If thosepictures of Matt Hancock had threatened to send your Hot Girl Summerstraight to the deep freeze and put your libido on the bench, a saviour: England footballer Jack Grealish.
Until a few weeks ago, the 25-year-old was best known to football fans as one of the Premier League’s brightest stars (a ‘creative, talented playmaker’ according to my dad, although I don’t really know what that means). Now, after England’s winning streak at Euro 2020 (and in particular his post-match interviews following the team's victory over Germany), he has also been anointed an accidental object of lust for many in the nation, at least according to the thirsty social media reactions to his post-match interview. It's like Connell's chain all over again.
Not everyone agrees, of course: New York magazine's long read on England's prospects for the finalhas raised some eyebrows with its slightly scathing assessment of our hopes and motivations - and, not least, its description of Grealish as a 'a b-list version of David Beckham'. To which, I retort: how dare they? Footballing skills aside - many have pointed out that the two are very different players - some (me) feel that the article has overlooked his unique appeal.
The charm then? His legs, some say. His rapscallion, Jack the Lad demeanour, say others. I say all of the above, but Grealish’s crowning glory is, irrefutably, his hair. My avid research reveals he often wears it slicked back, which he apparently achieves using a combination of Moroccan Oil, wax and hairspray (Schwarzkopf got2b’s Glued Freeze Spray, apparently). Heartthrob hair takes work.
As John Lewis beauty buyer Joe Coggrave advises: 'To achieve this look, one would need six to eight inches of hair on the top with a grade one undercut on back and sides. I would suggest using a pomade with good hold such as Aveda Men Pure-Formance Pomade or Murdock London Vintage Pomade, a dash of shine and a hairdryer to dry it in place'). But it is in its floppy curtained form – so gloriously bountiful that it must be tamed by a hairband when he plays and flecked with what looks suspiciously like Sun-In highlights – that us 'geriatric millennials' are getting really worked up about.
A throwback to the 1990s , Grealish’s ‘do evokes memories of my OG crush, Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic, and the same desire to stick pictures of him all over my bedroom wall . It’s Paul Nicholls, David Beckham, Jared Leto and just about every boyband member from the decade (Marc Owen! Nick Carter! Stephen Gateley!). It’s the swaggering, popular boys on the back seat of the school bus with names like ‘Lewis’. That hair is my Proustian madeleine; it takes me straight back to my burgeoning, confusing, adolescent sexuality. When my mum texted me to inform me 'your boy is coming on' during the Denmark match, I replied to tell her 'I admit I just leapt up off the sofa like the horny teenage girl I still am'. What can I say? I can almost smell the Lynx Africa from here.
A modern-day Samson in child-sized shin pads, Grealish is the ultimate basic crush. He is the opposite of what I pursue in real life (which is, men at least double Grealish’s age, with half as much hair). But the basic crush is not someone you can actually imagine yourself dating - and, yes, I do imagine myself dating my celebrity crushes, it's only a matter of time Jeff Goldblum. Part of the charm is that you should, and probably do, know better (I hear I am not the only woman with a therapist and a degree and a fondness for tasteful mid-century furniture who’s fallen for The Curtains). The basic crush is just pure, unadulterated fit - and I do blame Grealish entirely for my sudden and liberal use of the word ‘fit’. Anyway, after a year of being strict and sensible, the sexy simplicity of the basic crush is more desirable than ever.
They say you should never meet your heroes and I don’t think you should know too much about your basic crush. I have scant biographical information about Grealish, and zero desire to acquire it. A friend sent me a TikTok video in which he appears not to know what an encyclopedia is. I don’t care! He appears to dress from the Love Island playbook off the pitch. I don’t care! He currently plays for Aston Villa. I don’t know where that is, but I don’t care! Most troublingly, Grealish broke coronavirus restrictions (not once but twice) and has pleaded guilty to careless driving, indisputably idiotic, reckless and selfish moves. My advice would be to save your off-pitch admiration for Marcus Rashford.
Still, none of this diminishes Grealish’s basic crush status, nor his formidable contribution to the ye olde footballing tradition of headline-grabbing hair. For your consideration: David Beckham’s Hoxton fin (and man bun, and mohawk, and skinhead, and, well, every hairstyle he’s ever had). Paul Pogba’s leopard print locks. Antoine Griezmann’s ‘Griezmannia’ and French plaits. Ronaldo’s bald head and oddly isolated fringe. All manner of outlandish colours (Djibril Cisse’s lime green; Freddie Ljungberg’s red). Grealish isn’t even the only one on the current England squad at it; Phil Foden has bleached his in tribute to Gazza.
For a footballer like Grealish, talking point hair isn’t just savvy (a way to stand out on a pitch with 22 men on it; 23 if you include the referee - important for endorsement potential) it’s a flex. Even if the ‘do does take hours in the salon and dozens of products to pull off, it always has an air of a spontaneous decision made on a stag do about it (worth it for the LOLs, probably). It says: I’m so fit, I don’t need to take myself too seriously. And that’s the beauty of a basic crush, it’s something you don’t need to take it too seriously either.