#so grandpa can mark the foundation and have it signed off

[icryyoumercy]

it's half past noon, and i've done the dishes and moved a literal ton of paving stones

i feel very accomplished

[rawiswhore]

Triple H x Fem Reader- “My Heart Belongs To Daddy”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

________________________________________________________________

The year is 2003.

The former World Wrestling Federation has now changed its name to World Wrestling Entertainment, all thanks to the World Wildlife Foundation.

While the most famous wrestling company in the world, the company people ALWAYS think of when people think about pro wrestling or even wrestling in general, has changed its name, it hasn't changed the way it's been for the past couple of years, at least for the most part anyway.

It's still bloody and violent, it's still okay for wrestlers to swear, and it's still okay for divas to rip their clothes off until the only thing they're wearing is lingerie.

Speaking of lingerie, you were a top star during the late 90's Attitude Era, however, you left the company in the year 2000, due to suffering from a real life sex addiction and depression.

What does this have to do with lingerie, though?

In 2002, before you made a huge comeback to the WWE which would increase a huge boost in the ratings, you sang and performed at the Pussycat Dolls burlesque show, alongside other female celebrities like Christina Aguilera, Gwen Stefani and Carmen Electra.

Much like Christina and Gwen, you sang some of the same "burlesque"/"old school hoe anthem" songs they had sang (Peggy Lee's "Fever" and "Big Spender" from "Sweet Charity").

And not just that, you also had sang and performed some other 20th Century songs that some other female celebrities would sing there, some of which didn't sound very vintage burlesque-like, but they were your idea.

When you returned to the WWE in 2003 (that rhymed), you kept your slutty nymphomaniac gimmick during the late 90's Attitude Era, however, since you were a talented singer and performer and previously a Pussycat Doll, one thing you did during the WWE was sing.

Yes, sing.

And have little musical numbers where you would sing to some pro wrestlers.

And tonight, you were going to sing to a certain pro wrestler.

Who was that pro wrestler?

The one responsible for giving you a career, Triple H.

Speaking of Triple H, many pro wrestlers go through several gimmick and character changes. Just ask Stone Cold Steve Austin. Just ask Mick Foley. Just ask Billy Gunn.

And Triple H is one of them.

He went from a classy, haughty 1800's blueblood gentleman to a 1990's frat boy making obscene gestures (complete with an equally obscene and now iconic catchphrase) and blatant sexual innuendo to a denim clad biker, now his latest gimmick seems to be a rich "Entourage"-esque playboy accompanied by someone he's influenced by (Ric Flair) and two up and coming WWE stars (Randy Orton and Batista).

Looking at him now, dressed in those JC Penney's pantsuits and sunglasses, being shown walking out of limos with his entourage dressed in similar attire, surrounded and smothered by sexy women in skimpy cocktail dresses, or even backstage in the WWE drinking champagne and buying expensive cars, he looks all the most like a sugar daddy.  

And tonight, you were going to sing an iconic sugar daddy anthem that you used to sing at the Pussycat Dolls burlesque show.

While Triple H and his team known as Evolution were in the ring, dressed in those pantsuits and just talking, some music started playing.

And it wasn't your entrance music the crowd recognizes.

A silhouette of a sexy female figure was shown underneath the titantron, the figure had a body similar to early 90's supermodels like Claudia Schiffer and Naomi Campbell.

Despite not playing your entrance music, the audience knows about your whole gimmick of showing your silhouette and singing a big band-esque song.

Your gimmick now is basically a Pussycat Doll, and not a Pussycat Doll that would become a hugely popular girl group years later, but rather the burlesque show Pussycat Doll.

This got an immediate "pop" reaction from the crowd, all of the men immediately standing up from their seats; cheering and lauding you on, some of them holding up signs and posters related to you.

You then turned around, showing your face and front part of your body.

You were dressed in a short, slinky silver dress, similar to the one Roxie Hart wears in the movie "Chicago", holding a microphone in one hand.

Jerry Lawler of course was going absolutely nuts, that pervert.

The song was perfectly and sexily arranged, sounding slightly similar to the one you sang when you performed at the Pussycat Dolls burlesque show.

While sauntering across the little catwalk many wrestlers either march or run through, you held the microphone up to your lips.

"I used to fall in love with all those boys who'd maul the young cuties" you crooned and sang.

Indeed, you did used to fall in love with boys who'd maul young cuties, be it during your wrestling career (*cough Shawn Michaels cough*) or even before your wrestling career.

Unlike Jillian Hall or most other female pro wrestlers or even some pro wrestlers in general, you were someone who can actually *gasp!* sing.

And are a talented singer.

Not quite Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey or Christina Aguilera, but a talented singer nonetheless.

"Boys who'd maul the young cuties?" Jerry Lawler asked, looking at Jim Ross sitting next to him. "She talkin' about Shawn Michaels? Or me?!"

Typical Jerry Lawler.

You could nearly roll your eyes over Jerry exclaiming this.

"But now I find I'm more inclined my heart belongs to daddy" you sang, pointing your index finger to Triple H.

"Daddy?!" Jerry Lawler cried. "She singing about her father?"

A smile broke out on Triple H's face, while this was rehearsed, even he couldn't resist this.

Neither could Ric Flair, whose gimmick was always a playboy, but Ric Flair has always looked like someone's grandpa trying to be a wrestler, and now he really looks like an old grandpa.

Not sexy.

Batista and Randy Orton were enjoying this too.

I'm sure some of the women and especially teenybopper girls watching this wish you could be singing about Randy Orton and flirting with him instead of Triple H, but you like who you like.

Some of the males in the audience and probably watching this on TV were disgusted at you calling Triple H "Daddy" since they find daddy fetishes disgusting, what with the incest factor.

You strolled to the ring, where you crawled through the ropes a la Stacy Keibler, trying to look sexy.

Once you were inside the ring with Evolution, you began singing again.

"If I invite a boy some night, to dine on my fine finnan haddie" you sang and crooned, your head turning and looking at Randy Orton.

While you were singing this, you were sexily sauntering and walking up to Triple H, all while looking at Randy.

Randy couldn't help but break out into a smile, his eyes were eying you up and down, checking you out.

So were some of the other men in the wrestling ring.

Randy started walking up to you.

"I just adore his asking for more" you sang, your eyes looking at Randy, head tilted back and hand sitting on your heart. "But my heart belongs to Daddy".

While you sang the "but my heart belongs to Daddy" part, your straightened your head up and turned it towards Triple H, looking at him and curling up next to him, wrapping one of your arms across behind his neck and atop of his shoulders, the other hand was on his chest, drawing circles on his chest.

One of your legs was slightly bent and nudging against his leg, trying to flirt with him.

"Shouldn't she be singing about Ric Flair?!" Jerry Lawler cried out.

That's meant to be a terrible sugar daddy joke, since Ric Flair is an old man, and there's the stereotype that sugar daddies are these old, rich men.

Some people wonder if this idea was Vince McMahon's idea, considering he's old enough to remember this song, so is Ric Flair, for that matter.

But this was your idea since you were previously a Pussycat Doll, the whole idea of you singing these big band-ish songs was your idea.

"Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy, so I simply couldn't be bad" you sang, drawing circles with your index finger on Triple H's chest.

You were still holding onto Triple H while you were singing.

"Yes, my heart belongs to daddy" you crooned, "da da da, da da da, da da daaaaaaaaaa..."

"So I want to warn you laddie" you sang, looking at Randy Orton and interrupting him walking up to you by holding your index finger up at him. "Though I know you're perfectly swell..."

When you sang the "though I know you're perfectly swell", your head tilted back and you put your hand on your heart, gushing like you're in love.

"But my heart belongs to daddy" you sang, your head turned towards Triple H now and looking at him "because my daddy, he treats me so well..."

You smiled while looking at Triple H, running your finger up and down his chest, flirting with him.

"Stop the music!" Randy Orton interrupted, holding the microphone up to his mouth.

The instrumental music you were singing to completely haulted, where you and Triple H both looked at Randy, so did Batista and Randy Orton for that matter.

Your facial expression went from flirty to shocked.

"Indeed, your 'daddy' treats you so well" Randy stated, crooking his fingers like quotation marks when saying "daddy". "Your sugar daddy Triple H is the only reason you're in the WWE".

Your jaw dropped, your face looking disgusted.

"Hey Randy" you quipped back, holding the microphone to your lips. "Didn't your daddy teach you not to throw stones in glass houses? Because if it wasn't for YOUR father and YOUR grandfather, you wouldn't be in the WWE either!"

The audience got a huge reaction out of this, going "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!".

Randy basically got served and you beat a man during this argument.

What you stated is something many pro wrestling fans say.

Not to mention, to add to you covering a song most famous for being in a Marilyn Monroe movie...

In 1999, when you were popular, but not as hugely popular as you were in 1998, you did a WWF commercial, that parodied Marilyn Monroe's musical number in "Let's Make Love", where she sang? "My Heart Belongs to Daddy".

However, in your commercial, you slid down a stripper pole and stated in the commercial "My name is Dita, and I'm not supposed to play...with boys!". You didn't sing "My Heart Belongs to Daddy".

Where it cut to footage of you either flirting or getting sexual with WWF stars (Triple H, Shawn Michaels,  Billy Gunn, even The British Bulldog and Bart Gunn) in the ring or backstage (that was scripted) or footage of you actually wrestling and beating the crap out of male wrestlers.

Some of the footage was even from photoshoots you did for wrestling magazines where you're surrounded by amorous male wrestlers looking at you like they're checking you out.

Your wrestling name was Dita after Madonna's alter ego during her early 90's "Sex"/"Erotica" era.

Though, if you got famous as your wrestling name being Dita, the WWF wouldn't have Lita (which isn't her real name and she didn't even like the name "Lita" given to her), they'd probably have to give her a different name.

[nfl2sevensummits]

Never Give Up, Never Quit... Army Staff Sergeant Travis Mills was sure that he would become another statistic when, during his third tour of duty in Afghanistan, he was caught in an IED blast, four days before his twenty-fifth birthday

175: Travis Mills: Former U.S Army Staff Sergeant, President of Travis Mills Group, Travis Mills Foundation, New York Times Best-Selling Author, Veterans Advocate, and Public Speaker discusses his triumphant recovery and successful life after becoming an amputee during combat.

  Travis Mills 

  Did today’s guest Travis Mills grow up with his glass-is-half-full positive mentality? “Yeah, I’m pretty sure my parents called it stubbornness. It got me in trouble a lot. But I’ve always been the same way that I am today, going forward with life after everything that happened to me. The best compliment that I get and the most organic one that they give me is, ‘Wow Travis. You are the same person. I didn’t think you were going to come out of it the same.” 

  On this episode of Finding Your Summit Podcast, we talk with Travis Mills, Former U.S Army Staff Sergeant, President of Travis Mills Group, Travis Mills Foundation, New York Times Best-Selling Author, Veterans Advocate, and Public Speaker, about his unwavering desire to achieve his goals. “I was always on sports teams. So there was that camaraderie. You had to go that extra mile, and do that extra rep, and go the extra hour, and workouts, and things like that just to achieve the goal. How my motto came around, I was actually doing recovery at the hospital and the occupational therapist asked me if I wanted to take a break, and I said, ‘I am never going to stop. I’m never going to quit.’ She said, ‘That was a silly question, wasn’t it?,’ and I said, ‘Yes it was.”

What You Will Learn:

  What was the drive for Travis Mills to go into the military? “I realised I didn’t like school. It wasn’t for me. My dad was in the Army. My grandpa was in the Navy. A lot of my family members were in the service, and I thought, let me take a look at this. Then I got talking more and more, and I got really excited about the idea of the Army and the Airborne Infantry, and the signing bonus, and all of that. I had bills to pay. I also had to try something different. I didn’t want to live at home. No offense to my parents. I love them very much. But I want to get out and do my own thing.” 

What is the whole objective when you sign up for the Airborne Infantry? “Airbourne was started in World War II. It was you can basically be anywhere in the world in 18 hours. We are supposed to be anywhere in the world and then you are supposed to be ready to jump into combat so that you can get behind enemy lines or do whatever and jump, and hit the ground running and they called it Light Infantry because you are not in tanks. You are not in vehicles. You jump in with a rucksack and your weapon and you just go into the battle.” 

  Travis Mills explains what happened on the day of his accident in Afghanistan. “I set my backpack down on an IED. It was about a 120-pound backpack and it set off the bomb and when it went off it took my right arm and right leg off automatically.They actually never found those pieces of me. Then the left side of my body, my left arm and my left leg were kind of there, and I don’t know. I got thrown to the ground, rolled over, and saw the aftermath of what happened. My metic and my platoon sergeant started working on me and I told them don’t worry about it. You are not going to save me. They went ahead and worked on me.”

  What was going through Travis Mills’ mind after sustaining his injury? “Actually I watched a lot of war movies. I still do to this day. I love them. The only thing I saw in my head was the movie Saving Private Ryan, when the medic gets shot in the stomach and he cries out for his mom and he begs not to die, and says, ‘I don’t want to die.’ He starts yelling for his mom, you know? I’m like, my guys will never see that. I always exuded confidence. I led from the front. never showed fear. So, when I got blown up, I was just like, it is what it is. Whatever happens, happens. I realised, nothing I was going to do right in that moment was going to change the outcome of what was going to happen.” 

  What “The only reason I woke up in the middle of the night sweating is because I had the meat sweats from smoking meat. I ate too much. No, I don’t suffer from PTSD. People always wonder if I am lying or how can that be. I have shot people. I have killed people. I have blown people up with grenades. I have watched buddies die. I couldn’t tell you why it hasn’t affected me. It doesn’t bother me. I think the more crude sense of humor is, the first thing you feel when you shoot somebody is the recoil of your rifle, and that is just kind of how it is. I was there to do a job. I did my job, and I can separate the two. I can separate Afghanistan from my home life. I have a wife and two kids, and life goes on.” 

  Life After the Injury 

 What “Nope, I had 19 months recovery at Walter Reade, and then they discharged me and I went to work out with a personal trainer for a little bit. I need to get back in the gym if that helps. This whole COVID thing. But, no, I live a pretty normal life. I own four businesses, either solely or partnerships and then I also run a big nonprofit up here in Maine. So, life goes on. What are you going to do?”

  Travis Mills Foundation

During this episode of Finding Your Summit Podcast, Travis Mills t, “I thought the only reason I want to get better is for my wife and my daughter. So, I might as well figure out how to help people. At Walter Reade, there are so many people doing awesome things. You want to start giving back some way, some shape, some form. We started the Travis Mills Foundation and we were doing care packages, and then we decided to bring families out to Maine that had been to a physical injury, a paralyzation, amputation, spinal cord injury, something along those lines due to service, not necessarily combat, but service-related.” 

  Links to Additional Resources:

Mark Pattison: markpattisonnfl.com

Emilia’s Everest - The Lhotse Challenge: https://www.markpattisonnfl.com/philanthropy/

Travis Mills: Linkedin Instagram Twitter

Travis Mills Foundation: travismills.org

Mark Pattison: Instagram

Check out this episode!

[souslejaune]

GeeMaa took the onions I chopped... (Folio 1: Part 5)

GeeMaa took the onions I chopped and put them in a pan of warm palm oil. She turned the heat up on the hob and turned to look at me. Most people have eyes the colour of their skin or slightly darker; GeeMaa’s were a light shade of brown. Lighter than her skin. They had a hypnotic quality about them. 

“When was the first dream?” She didn’t seem as surprised as my father was to hear about the dreams. In her right hand she held a wooden spoon steady over the pan of whispering onions, but her attention was rooted on me. 

“After Auntie Dee Dee died. I saw her cooking on a kind of stage.” 

“Hmm.” She turned to stir the onions. She was making kontomire stew with agushi. “Sit down,” she said. 

I pulled a kitchen stool and sat down. She took an earthenware grinding bowl full of melon seeds, placed it on the floor, pulled another stool and sat facing me. She sprinkled some water on the seeds and began to crush them with a wooden pestle. She exuded the silent calm of Jaggers’ Molly – Estella’s mother. “My child, a crab does not give birth to a bird.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Do you know who an okomfo is?” 

“Like Okomfo Anokye?” I knew the name from my history lessons. He was the sorcerer who helped build the Ashanti Kingdom. Like Merlin of Camelot he had rooted a sword that could only be removed by a chosen person. 

“Yes. Like Okomfo Anokye.” She paused. “The dreams are signs.” 

I shook my head. “Daddy said it was shock.” 

“Hmm. What about the dream with the empty plates?” She continued to crush the melon seeds into a fine paste. I scratched my head and looked at the pan on the stove.

“I didn’t tell him about that.” 

“And after that the drought came.” She smiled, catching my eyes. 

It was like a secret code. It unlocked me. Scattered points of confusion began to stand in line. All I had to do was join the dots. Straighten the question marks. Make them point somewhere. Like Pip finally making the connection between Jaggers, Molly, Magwitch, Miss Havisham and Estella over dinner. I considered myself smart for a ten-year-old but it had never occurred to me. Foresight. I felt GeeMaa stand up and tip the crushed seeds into the muttering oil. Heard the hiss of the union of oil and water. Saw her reach for the chopped kontomire and tuna. Smelled the fusion of sweet aromas as she stirred the stew and lowered the heat on the gas cooker. New questions simmered in my mind. 

“It’s from my mother’s side of the family. The mountain dwellers.” GeeMaa spoke as though she could hear me. “The gift is stronger in some than others.” 

She looked at me as though she was telling me something with her eyes. All I saw was the pale brown ring around her pupil changing colours with the intensity of her thoughts. Her pupils widened as she broke a smile. 

“We all have it… but to get the best fruit from a tree you must shake it.” 

I nodded. Speechless. Still puzzled. Stumped by the way answers to old questions brought new uncertainties with them. Like a price to pay for answers; was it worth knowing the truth? 

GeeMaa continued. “It’s up to you how much it will affect your life. There are those who make a living from it.” 

“I want to be a journalist, not a fortune teller.” Petulance crept into my voice. 

She laughed. Loud. Bubbling like stew as she reached out to hug me. Her white hair was tied back in a bun; her skin yielding beneath the faded orange and green tie and dye cloth wrapped around her waist. 

“Mi bi. The gift is strong in you. You may not pursue it but you will always have premonitions about the people you love.” 

My grandmother was a big woman and I was a small ten-year-old; I heard her through the vibrations of her rib cage. She held me close to her chest. The dark brown skin of her arms had begun to sag. 

“So I will always have these dreams?” 

“People may think you're odd, but remember that everyone is odd – otherwise we would all be the same. You're not odd, you're sensitive.” 

I sighed. “Will I always have the dreams?” 

“Oh no! Not always dreams; anything that happens in your life could be a sign. Anything.” She hugged me tighter, then held me away, her upper arms rippling with the sudden motion. “Go and play with your friends. I have worried you enough.” 

I walked towards our burnt orange metal gate to look for Tom Brown and Table. Kofi Fagan, the last of our four-corner fraternity, was a year older than us and was away at boarding school in Cape Coast. We had begun to splinter. Partly because of the drought, which had rationed our energy for boyish exploits and made us still. Partly because Tom Brown’s father didn’t like him to play with us because we spoke a mixture of Ga and Twi with Pidgin English. His father only wanted him to speak English. 

He had come to drag Tom Brown home on several occasions. He always stopped to serve me a special reprimand. “And I don’t understand how you, a son of such educated people, can be allowed to speak as you wish!” 

 My father laughed when I told him about it. He said it was sad that some people thought that education meant renouncing your own culture. You couldn’t build real knowledge if you destroyed your foundation.

When I reached the gate I looked back towards the kitchen. GeeMaa was silhouetted in the window. Stirring food and humming away. The image reminded me of Auntie Dee Dee. Our street was deserted. No children running about. No boys beside our wall eyeing the stunted oranges on our tree. No shoemaker. No Yaw Table. No Ato Tom Brown. Only Auntie Aba sat in her usual spot; presiding over her large basin of waache with faraway eyes. It was a strange moment in a normal day. I decided not to go looking for Tom Brown or Table. I wasn’t in the mood for play. I yelled ayekoo to Auntie Aba and sat on the edge of the gutter in front of our house. The sun was still high in the sky, accentuating the deep greens and rooted browns of the trees. Bearing down on homes. Slanting off aluminium roofing sheets in random shafts. Blinding all who dared to stare. Shadows played a game of catch with the objects that cast them. It was hard to believe that it would be dark in two hours. Four o’clock flowers had begun to withdraw their red petals for the night. There was an uncommon precision to our sunsets; the equator kept a mathematical balance. It was impossible to grow up with sunsets like ours and know nothing of change. Before your eyes, what was green turns black, invisible light become miniature beacons, what was shadow is swallowed into the whole. I swung my growing legs inside the gutter and considered my life. I was conscientious about the thinking process. I didn’t want to be light-hearted. I wanted to write down everything, explore myself. Like James Baldwin in Nobody Knows My Name. I had read the book two months earlier. I didn’t understand all that he wrote but I liked the serious passion of his writing. The desire to delve deeper than ever before. I pasted an intense look on my face and tried to become like him. With each new thought I inclined my head at a different angle. I thought about MotherGrandpa – Grandpa – who like my mother was an accountant – very shrewd, very observant. Could he tell there was something different about me? Would he treat me with the same indulgence if I were an okomfo? Would he encourage me to develop the gift? Had he already noticed something different about me? Did he already treat me accordingly? What about Grandma? Or FatherGrandpa? Maybe FatherGrandpa wouldn’t care; I had only met him twice. My legs oscillated with increased ferocity; the questions multiplying as the sun set. But what about my father? And my mother? And Naana? Naana who had no time for anything that did not have a life in books. She would probably laugh and make a joke out of the idea of my having premonitions; ask me the name of her husband or first child. The moon shifted into view, pale yellow in the wake of the retreating sun. I wondered if I could talk to the dead. If I could ask what the inside of a coffin looked like when it was covered with at least ninety-six cubic feet of soil. I delved until I could delve no longer, stood up with a handful of loose stones and threw them across the undulating brown expanse that was our street. Then I asked myself the obvious question. Did I want to be able to tell the future? Did I want to be an okomfo? If I knew the future whom should I tell? What could I change? What would happen if I told someone? Changed something? It was all too much. I didn’t want to know. I looked up to a horizon with pale saffron eyes – one moon, one sun – and remembered GeeMaa saying, you will always have premonitions about the people you love. My interpretation of GeeMaa’s message was to be my burden for many years. Like the signature in my passport, it would define the tone of my adult life. Maybe it is our nature to interpret what we hear in a way that appears to give us some control. Nobody likes feeling helpless. Pip assumed Miss Havisham was his benefactor because it made it easier for him to accept his fortune. It reinforced his belief that he would end up with Estella, and influenced his decisions until he knew the truth. To free myself from my gift, I resolved not to love anymore. Be immune. Be free from premonitions. Night embraced the sun like a fat relation; the moon hung alone.

—–

continued >> here << | start from beginning? | current projects: The City Will Love You and a collection of poems, The Geez

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The FashionBeans Menswear Awards 2017

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-fashionbeans-menswear-awards-2017/

The FashionBeans Menswear Awards 2017

Amidst the political upheaval and doomsday-mongering that we heard from all corners this year, one area that really benefitted from chaos in 2017 was men’s fashion. This was the year when designers rediscovered their courage, when long-lost trends were brought back from the dead and your wardrobe got more choice than it’s had in years. So, before we turn the calendar to 2018 and start making plans for the new year, let’s take a moment to look back on the good, the bad and the very, very ugly of 2017.

From the best and the worst of our wardrobes to the men we should all hope to be a bit more like over the next twelve months, these are the official FashionBeans Menswear Awards.

Breakthrough Brand Of The Year

Arket

For those not yet acquainted with the latest name in H&M’s burgeoning roster of brands, here’s a primer. Dubbed Arket, the ‘M’-less market-inspired retailer offers a curated edit of wardrobe staples that place an emphasis on quality over catering to trends.

The first men’s collection, which debuted in spring, is packed with the kind of handsome pieces the Swedish powerhouse is known to produce at mid-level price points – like sleek wool-blend sweatshirts and timeless trench coats – all housed within Instagram-baiting interiors with OCD-neat rails arranged by colour.

With a successful flagship up and running on London’s Regent Street, with more set to follow, and a digital presence in over 18 countries, Arket is one to watch (and wear) in 2018.

Most Influential Designer

Raf Simons, Calvin Klein

When Raf Simons debuted his first collection for Calvin Klein back in February, it marked the creative reboot of an $8 billion fashion empire seven months in the making. Charged with reviving the lethargic label, the visionary Belgian designer wasted no time fusing his modern-minimalist approach with American youth culture.

The result was a buzz about the brand not seen since the days of Mr Klein himself, wearable shapes and styles but with interesting pops of colour and material choices. In the months that followed, Simons asserted his vision for the brand, tapped Mahershala Ali and the Cast of Moonlight as underwear models, oversaw a logo redesign and re-launched one of the company’s most iconic fragrances. It’s safe to say, we’re Obsessed, too.

Unlikeliest Menswear Icon

Jeremy Corbyn

Who’d have thought it: 2017, the year Corbyn got cool. Did being thrust into the fishbowl of British politics during the general election prompt the 67-year-old to employ a stylist? Could it be that he started reading FashionBeans on the morning commute to parliament? Whatever is responsible for Jezza’s transformation from rank outsider to genuine contender, it worked.

His suits are better fitting, his Ralph Lauren Harrington jacket is a classic and that grey shell suit is straight-up athleisure at its finest. As one Twitter user commented after watching him on Question Time in June, the whole Corbyn aesthetic has gone from “freight train-jumping hobo” to “vaguely credible-looking adult”. But there’s also been a swing in perception. Corbyn’s normcore grandpa styling resonates surprisingly well in a world where unfussy workwear and seventies menswear are trending.

The rise of the famously tie-less “scruffy member for Islington North”, as he was once known, is now King Corbz in the style ranks, earning him the title of this year’s most unlikely menswear icon.

Worst Trend

The Muscle-Fit Clone

It’s no secret that silhouettes in menswear have been relaxing for some time now. The skinny cuts that men poured themselves into for the best part of a decade are no longer the only option when it comes to getting dressed. But it seems not everyone got the memo.

One contingent of distressingly preened and pumped guys has taken bollock-crushing legwear to a new level. Meet: the Muscle-Fit Clones. The overstuffed sausage aesthetic has permeated every conceivable corner of the high street, from tailoring to T-shirts and everything in between.

And if this trend wasn’t bad enough, it seems such pieces come only in a limited colour palette: white and black for jeans, olive for T-shirts and pastel-coloured going-out shirts. Wear them until you die or your balls fall off. Whichever happens first.

Most Wearable Trend

1970s

Ah, the seventies. A decade where disco hair and platform shoes reigned supreme. And in celebration of the era that spawned the Sex Pistols, Saturday Night Fever and Space Hoppers, designers this year chose to revive some of those golden years’ most iconic (and thankfully, wearable) wardrobe pieces – i.e., not disco hair and platform shoes.

From brown everything to checked blazers, wide-cut trousers to – despite initial reservations – corduroy, men have been readily adopting once-maligned trends and looking all the better for it, too. Freak out.

The Bastard Who Looked Good In Everything Award

Oliver Cheshire

It’d be easy to hate on a man with a model physique, popstar girlfriend and wardrobe that looks like it’s restocked nightly by the great and the good of men’s fashion. But it’s because of that wardrobe that we’re choosing to do the opposite. Throughout 2017, Oliver Cheshire has been one of FashionBeans’ most daring but consistent dressers.

The 29-year-old is a chameleon in every sense, capable of looking just as good in a dinner suit as he would a bin bag. Probably. This year he’s done smart sportswear, Riviera swag and exemplary smart-casual as the face of the M&S Autograph range. The former Calvin Klein frontman even confessed to once wearing a pair of Western boots when we caught up with him earlier this year. Though while the wardrobe is easy to mimic, the cover star jawline is sadly less so and it’s for these reasons, Ollie, that we love and hate you at the same time.

Style Move Of The Year

The Tuck

Not that long ago, the only guys who tucked their T-shirt into a pair of jeans were Napoleon Dynamite, Hank Hill and dorky dads from nineties sitcoms. However, if this year has taught us anything it’s that, in the right hands (and in the right waistband), it’s a move that can take bog-standard style to the next level.

And it’s isn’t just casualwear getting the treatment: rollnecks, track tops and knitwear are all fair game, giving countless options for creating a look that says “I’m casual, but I didn’t roll out of bed like this.” Anyone who says otherwise should get tucked.

Best Collaboration

Uniqlo x JW Anderson

He’s the young, forward-thinking, Northern Irish designer renowned for his quirky and innovative designs; they’re the Japanese high street retailer, revered for creating quality, minimal wardrobe staples at bargain prices. It doesn’t take a style expert to predict that bringing the two together would result in one of the best tie-ups of the year.

And that’s what they did. The 33-piece capsule collection, inspired by British heritage garments, delivered all the building blocks of a good wardrobe: from workwear staples like rugged carpenter jeans to smart un-stuffy overcoats, spliced with classic patterns like tartan, herringbone and collegiate stripes. Uniqlo may be king of the basics, but this collection is anything but.

Biggest Comeback

V-Necks

To leave the house sporting a V-neck any time before AW17 was a surefire sign that, depth-dependent, you were either a golfing pensioner or the cast member of a reality TV show attempting to show off your he-vage.

Suffice to say, neither of those camps is a particularly desirable place to be. But such is the charm of the 1970s revival that menswear’s most reviled neckline has made a Lazarus-like comeback few saw coming.

From chunky designs inspired by vintage cricket and tennis sweaters to smart thin-gauge officewear, now is the time to flick the Vs at the crew neck and send your neckline south.

Woman Of The Year

Tarana Burke

Since October, a swirl of sexual abuse allegations has engulfed some of the most powerful men in politics, entertainment and media. What started with a series of revelations against Hollywood movie mogul Harvey Weinstein quickly swelled into an avalanche of frank and honest personal stories following a call to action by a group of women dubbed the Silence Breakers.

But the #MeToo movement, which garnered 12m posts, comments and reactions in the first 24 hours, began offline through the work of activist Tarana Burke. A three-time sexual violence survivor, in 2006 Burke founded the organisation that would become Me Too, offering support and advice to victims.

The foundations laid by Burke more than a decade ago have today paved a path that encourages discussion, sparks debate and fosters solidarity between survivors. Making Burke our deserving woman of the year.

Trainer Of The Year

Adidas Futurecraft 4D

Without designers, engineers and scientists (yes, actual scientists) working to create new and innovative sneakers, we’d probably all still be walking around with pieces of cowhide stuffed with grass strapped to our feet.

Ever since Nike debuted introduced its revolutionary Flyknit technology in 2012, footwear bods have been racing to come up with the next big thing and this year, Adidas cracked it.

Developed in Silicon Valley, the German firm’s Futurecraft 4D runner (5,000 of which will drop this month) bears more than a striking resemblance to the immensely popular Ultra Boost model. However, this new iteration is produced using a combination of recycled ocean plastics, 3D printed soles and ‘digital light synthesis’, resulting in something truly remarkable. Not to mention comfortable and wearable.

(Related: The Best Trainer Of 2017)

Best Hair Trend

Low-Effort Hair

Hair-wise, 2017 was fantastic news for both those who cherish an extra 15 minutes of duvet time in the morning, and those tired of shelling out on weekly trips to the barbers.

While painstakingly-styled pomps and sharper-than-sharp fades will never fail to look good on the right guy (see Messrs Malik and Beckham for proof), this was the year messy, easy-going barnets climbed to the top and offered a welcome breath of fresh ‘hair’.

With ultra-groomed out and textured, tousled tresses in, try a French crop (ideal for thicker or less obedient hair) or turn a gravity-defying quiff into something more loose and free-flowing. It’ll be the much-needed break your bank balance, and your alarm clock, have been crying out for.

Watch Of The Year

Tudor Heritage Black Bay Chrono

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This much is true. But that’s not to say you can’t make things better, which is exactly what Tudor did with the all new Heritage Black Bay Chrono.

A hybrid that fuses the aquatic heritage of the Black Bay family with influences from motorsport, the watch is the first of its kind to be powered by a Calibre MT5813 movement: an impressive bit of kit that echoes the technicality of Breitling (who it was produced in collaboration with), but retaining Tudor’s near world-beating value for money.

Swiss, in-house mechanics aside, as well as a riveted steel bracelet the watch comes with a navy denim-style strap that allows you to switch things up at the weekend, adding another level of cost-per-wear to an already versatile ticker. Gentlemen, consider this your go-to watch for 2018 and beyond.

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[junker-town]

Tiger Woods’ comeback lasted just 3 rounds before he got hurt again. Now what?

After another injury forces an early withdrawal, what’s next Tiger?

Tiger Woods may have another competitive decade in him but it’s hard to be optimistic just a week into what has been a discouraging, and at times alarming, comeback. After a week of three underwhelming rounds of varying ugliness, Tiger withdrew from the Omega Dubai Desert Classic on Friday with what his agent Mark Steinberg called back spasms. Tiger, via Steinberg, is downplaying it as an isolated spasm that flared up and unrelated to the very serious nerve pain he’s experienced over the last few years.

Tiger’s first week back playing on the worldwide tours could have gone worse, but not much worse. In the past seven days, Tiger posted rounds of 76 and 72 to miss the cut at Torrey Pines, carded his worst ever number in 29 career rounds in Dubai, and withdrew in his second start with back troubles. Before he made his first start, Tiger said he knew he was testing himself with a busy early season schedule but that his body was ready for it.

“It is a concern, no doubt about it,'' Tiger said last week of putting his health to the test right away with a rigorous schedule. "But I'm also looking forward to it. I sat out long enough. My body is in a pretty good state where I feel I can handle the workload. But I still have to go out and do it.”

That lasted only three rounds.

We tried to recalibrate expectations and the bar wasn’t exactly high after Tiger’s 17-month absence from the tour. But this got dark pretty quick and rapidly devolved back into questions about what, if anything, is left of one of the two greatest golf careers of all time.

“He looks like an old man.”

More disconcerting than Tiger’s actual score of 77 on Thursday in Dubai was the way he looked. Not how the shots looked or the failure to make a single birdie in easy scoring conditions. But how Tiger looked -- the movements in between shots, the sighs, the disconsolate face, the slumped shoulders.

We were ready to accept another missed cut as part of a slow process of getting back on the most competitive tours in the world at 41 years old. Expectations were adjusted and patience was required, which can be a hard thing when a camera shows your every single shot in your attempt to getting back to competitiveness.

Something seemed off, however, before he even teed it up on Thursday. He looked stiff on the putting green and walked awkwardly to the first tee. A wince on his first drive, which we optimistically hoped was a squint into the sun as a badly duck-hooked ball sailed off the fairway, started setting off alarm bells on Twitter as the American audience tuned in from afar.

European Tour/Golf Channel

Tiger’s first tee shot in Dubai.

To put it bluntly, he then looked like an elderly grandpa trying to climb out of a greenside bunker on the very first hole.

Everyone watching and following on Twitter saw it. The Euro Tour broadcast saw it (“I don't think his back's right, he's very tentative walking”). It was troubling on the very first hole thanks to recent years of “Tiger Woods Withdrawal Watch” conditioning and warning signs. Even after being conditioned that way, to see it so soon after a 17-month absence that exercised extreme caution left us incredulous. Despite what seemed like easily observable discomfort, Tiger said after the round that he was in no pain at all. But he would never make it back on the Emirates course.

Tiger’s agent maintained on Friday that the back spasms that forced Woods WD did not flare up until late Thursday night. We’ll accept that timeline, but that doesn’t change how he looked in that opening round. Maybe the spasms weren’t there and his back felt fine but he still looked like an aging pro just trying to not get hurt. Earlier this week at a press conference, Tiger said his one major swing philosophy these days is simply to “play away from pain.” That looked like a struggle in his first and only round in Dubai.

Tiger should have never been in Dubai.

This brings us to another question that bubbled below the surface at the start of the week but boils now: why the hell was Tiger even playing this event? After a 17-month layoff that was, by his own admission, extremely cautious and deliberate, why fly around the world to play an event you don’t really need on your schedule? If you want reps in this pre-Masters first quarter of the season, the Phoenix Open was right down the road after missing the cut in San Diego last week. If you wanted to avoid the frat party circus atmosphere of the Phoenix Open, then play the Bob Hope earlier in the month and pile up birdies at that relatively benign and enjoyable setup.

Even if he was totally healthy and has a successful history here, it didn’t make sense to fly this distance and squeeze in this Dubai event, which he added as the final piece to a four-tourney-in-five-week stretch. We’re aware he was paid a nice seven-figure appearance fee to show up -- a practice that’s forbidden on the stateside tour but a tradition of Tiger’s (and other USA stars) patronage of these international events. But does he really need that money? Does that matter at this point? Maybe it does.

This may sound like unfair hindsight criticism but the question was there before he withdrew. It just seemed unnecessary to sprint to Dubai from San Diego and then back to the west coast where he’s hosting at Riviera. That would have been the same question had he played a fully healthy 36 or 72 holes. What we got instead was a Tiger that looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world from the very first hole on Thursday, slogged his way to an ugly 77 and then withdrew with an injury just a day later.

What’s next?

Those moments of brilliance we saw in that unofficial event in the Bahamas seem like so long ago. We were genuinely encouraged by his performance at the Hero World Challenge in early December, when his putting and ball striking looked fantastic and he led the field in birdies. That fleeting week of jubilation, orgasmic tweets, and excitement about Tiger’s game seems like it was from a different era, not two months ago.

Now we’re back to more of the same depressing cycle. These three rounds he played in the last week could have been plucked out of any of those tournaments from 2014 or 2015, when it was almost always ugly and never really fun to watch. It was like nothing had really changed during the 17-month layoff. It was back to being a grind, not a particularly happy one, mixed in with some health troubles.

Steinberg insisted on Friday that this is simply an isolated back spasm and not the kind of nerve pain that forced Tiger into multiple surgeries and months away from the game. The hope was that he’ll still be able to play in Los Angeles in less than two weeks. That event, the Genesis Open at Riviera, now benefits his foundation so he’d likely be there as the host one way or another. He has also committed to play the Honda Classic the following week at the start the Florida swing, the portion of the schedule when pre-Masters prep really peaks.

The optimistic view after such a discouraging week is that this is just a back spasm that came at a bad time on the other side of the world. He’ll be back at Riviera and hit the ground running again to get ready for the Masters. Given everything he went through during his strenuous rehab and how long it took to get back, this was almost certainly the final comeback of Tiger’s career. If this is more than some spasm, well ... we’ll leave the obvious unsaid right now and hope to see him in Los Angeles.