I love watching, say, an old Gilda clip on YouTube, because you know half of the comments are going to be variations on “Women were so much sexier Then…Women are dreadfully unsexy Now…Nothing was more exciting than a fully-dressed character actress in her forties, with a deeply tragic home life and tumultuous series of international marriages, slightly raising an eyebrow before hurling a witticism at you.”
The sexiest woman is when you try to look at her your eyes can't focus and a chittering sound fills your ears, and you can't see anything and you can't hear anything and you feel like the sexiest woman is standing right behind you but when you turn around she's not there but she's still behind you so you're turning and turning and you can smell her and she smells like a very, very ripe banana, and you have her, you almost have her, the sexiest woman.
The sexiest woman is a distant memory.
The sexiest woman is a whisper on the wind.
The sexiest woman is when you try to look at her your eyes can't focus and a chittering sound fills your ears, and you can't see anything and you can't hear anything and you feel like the sexiest woman is standing right behind you but when you turn around she's not there but she's still behind you so you're turning and turning and you can smell her and she smells like a very, very ripe banana, and you have her, you almost have her, the sexiest woman.