Ripped From the Tabloids – Yahoo Lifestyle

Fame, at least the good kind, is a great sacrifice—one that demands hard work. Part of the hard work is making it all appear effortless: When we see celebrities, they’re almost always immaculately groomed, with implied Adonis bodies lurking beneath expensive clothing someone else chose for them to wear. Celebrities embody that tired old mantra “Never let them see you sweat.” Indeed, you might say that celebrities, whose work takes place in closed studios, private gyms, and gated homes, live by those words. The less they look like they’re exerting themselves, the more superhuman they appear, and the further we fall under the spell of their fame.

The magnificent exception to this rule is the occasional, glorious moment when a photographer catches a celebrity in-medias-workout. This is especially true in the vintage-celebrity sphere: When Madonna is caught running in a purple Asics tracksuit, she radiates star power. But it can also be seen today: Check out Jonah Hill with his fists plunged into two bulbous yellow boxing gloves—a man who burst out of his horny, pubescent cage and became a sinewy director with an admirable wardrobe. It isn’t that they’re putting in more effort than we are: Is Adam Sandler leaving it all on the court? Probably not. But his looks aren’t merely about exertion—it’s about style. Like Keanu lacing up his skates, his face a red-carpet-worthy expression of calm elegance. Their love of performance is tempered with a self-consciousness that only the truly famous possess, like a rare jewel or a member’s card to the San Vicente Bungalows.

The internet has changed how we think a person should look while working out. Consider influencers who appear to be glowing during yoga the way celebrities glow on the red carpet. With a light sheen of sweat, they are sculpted, styled in all the right brands—aspirational but somehow impossible, just like the bod of our dreams. Celebrities don’t have to try so hard—not even John F. Kennedy Jr., shirtless and chasing something (as he so often was) in Central Park. And that indelible X factor is what ultimately distinguishes the truly famous from the influencers. There’s Sean Combs, crossing the finish line of the New York City Marathon, arms raised in victory. He’s just like all the runners around him, with one key difference: He’s Puff Daddy, baby.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2020 issue with the title “Ripped From the Tabloids.”

Originally Appeared on GQ