Contemplating the wonder that was Ed, dressed, I came to recognize that though looking amazing is usually thought of as either a mildly despicable self-glorification or a straightforward strategy to access sex, it can be a gift to the people around you, a sort of public art and a celebration, and, with wardrobes like Ed’s, even a kind of wit and commentary.
Yes, which is why I don’t mind that I am not aesthetically pleasing—I don’t have to look at myself, but I can enjoy the beauty of others. At least until the trends of beauty move far from what pleases my eye. But then I can marvel at the hideousness of them, which elicits a different kind of pleasure.
