The King

Following the recent theme of this blog, I stick to the subject of certain men that make the heart flutter and the knees weak. This year Elvis Presley would have been 75.  Elvis spent time in Germany during the war. After that time things started to go badly. He made a number of terrible movies. Things picked up in the late 60s when he lost some weight and started wearing leather. Yet things began to get out of control when the 70s came along and left Elvis, ‘the forerunner of rock and roll’ in white jump suits with matching capes. TRAGIC. But before all the fame and glory, before he was crowned the King, a remarkable young man named Elvis was starting to sing rock and roll. He caught the attention of Sam Philips and was at the same place, at the same time as the likes of Jonny Cash. Back then he was beautiful. Forget the overweight, hairy, sweating man in Technicolor who we’ve all seen. Think, instead, of the black and white images of a thin, high-cheek boned, dark, mysterious stranger. When you see these images, you realise just quite how many men he has influenced, and indeed how much fashion he has influenced.  The King is dead. Long live the King

 

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