Leonardo DiCaprio is a man that needs little introduction. Actor, philanthropist, pursuer of super models, determined eventual Oscar winner and now selfie-taker.
He has the world at his feet. A world that to him will always be gold paved beneath a shimmering Malibu sunset, where he always gets to sleep on the cold side of the pillow and in which he is Leo DiCaprio.
Imagine, for just the briefest of seconds, waking up as Leonardo DiCaprio. You’ve got a day off from some intense new movie role that the press will refer to us ‘self-inflicted torture’, and you want to kick back, relax, get a bit of you time. Maybe you’ll pop around Marty Scorsaysays house for a glass of muse juice, perhaps you’ll go and hit up some cool-dude bar with Tobey Maguire in a tatty baseball cap and rag-tag clothes that are not befitting of such an A-lister. Maybe you’ll do all this and in-between it arrange your carousel of dates with Victoria Secret’s models and Rihanna.
What a life. What a bloody way to live. But it’s not all jet setting Hollywood wonder parties, it’s also giving it back. Putting your moral heavy sleeves into the public fora and commenting on the big stuff like global climate change and giving a speech at the UN General Assembly in New York. Just like last week, talking about saving the world, spreading some of the Leo Love. Sure, you might be the biggest star in Hollywood, with a gang called the Pussy Posse, the actor of your generation even, but you’re also a regular guy.
A regular guy with hopes and dreams. Alright, following his inevitable Oscar win, Leo’s dreams are probably not as crowded and consistent as they were, he is after all, a man that regularly does things like this:
Every moment of his life is a dream.
But he definitely has hopes. Hopes on the most basic of levels. Hopes that money can’t buy, the hope that he can be happy in himself. That Leo DiCaprio can stare at a picture of himself, this picture, that he took himself in full view of someone else taking a picture of him, and he can know that this picture is good.
That he looks OK, that despite the inevitable signs of age, the dented creases on his forehead, the uneven distribution of his beard and combed back hair threatening to go wanderlust, he looks great.
Here he is just moments before, a thousand worried thoughts rushing through his perfect weathered head.
He worries about the outcome of his selfies, a man that has a bazillion photos taken of his face every single day. Photographs that are taken at opportune moments to show that hanging gut, receeding hairline and warbling chin.
But not this photograph, this selfie of the gods taken by DiCaprio’s own hand. This one is his and his alone, and he looks good. Today is a good day, he is Leo Dicaprio and he looks pretty good.
Not great, not incredible, not like the misty eyed androgynous DiCaprio of youth, but one who has seen disappointment, victory and a lot of a super models. He looks OK. Sure, he's not dissimilar looking to this Russian guy, but he looks OK.
And, despite the briefest moment of doubt where Leo was compelled to check the front-facing camera snap, it all came good. Leo aced it. And boy is he happy, one more victory for the DiCaprio Crew. One more day of dreamlike success. One more day...
Fulfilment of being, appreciation of self worth and happiness in his own gravity-fighting body. He is one, he is Leo and he is like us. Like me, like you. He woke up and he had a good day, one where his hair did what it should and none of his shirts needed ironing.
We all deserve days like this, and when they come along we should grasp them with both hands, take a picture and say: this is good, for that is what they are and though life may only be a fleeting grain in the cosmic shifting of sands, these moments are true.
Love yourself, love Leo.