The guys of Esquire magazine have finally returned to New York and released their findings after a year of arduous travels that involved journeying across the world like the early explorers. They searched every jagged and icy crevice of this challenging blue marble of ours, looking not for beauty but for sexiness. that most precious of goods! They made contact with hitherto unexplored tribes in the Amazon and demanded, “Show us your women,” before being justifiably sent away with arrows and spears. They rushed heedlessly into dirt homes while peering behind burqas. At Harrods, they pounded on dressing room doors. At Bondi Beach, they looked at every sheila. The world’s sexiest woman, according to Esquire magazine’s men, is Penelope Cruz.
Really, you say? What remains after all that is Penelope Cruz? A year of extraordinary travel, including sailing over rough waters to the farthest Tristan da Cunha, confronting Komodo dragons in Gili Motang, seeing Pittsburgh, and only Penelope Cruz is present? So all the Esquire guys had to do was fly from JFK to Madrid for seven hours? Or, even simpler, why don’t they just watch Vicky Cristina Barcelona on their work computers? That makes me unhappy.
But regardless of how discouraging, we cannot contest science. Cruz has been named the sexiest woman in the world, and as such, she is required to be that woman. There are probably a lot of women that are dissatisfied right now. A figure skater from Belarus lowers her head as she enters a graceful Salchow. In order to go home and pout, a young waitress in Colombo who serves tea wants to terminate her work early. Heidi Klum smashes a plate-glass window with her Emmy. But I have no doubt that they will all soon get over their irritation. They received a fair shot, were examined, and evaluated by the Esquire specialists just like any other lady on the earth.