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In Defense Of Weird & Funky Men | Essay
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Kevin Bacon was my first celebrity crush at the ripe age of eight.
Sure, Chase from Zoey 101 was cute, and Austin from Austin & Ally was okay… Harry Styles would come along in a few years to really rock my world (along with my impending bisexuality, thank you, Miley Cyrus). But Kevin Bacon? The start of a girl’s yearning for the long-haired skater boy.
As a child, I watched Tremors, presumably with my father on a weekend cable binge (around the same time I was traumatized by The Good Son with McCauley Culkin). I was equally enthralled by the young, mulleted Bacon and his one-liners (“I found the ass end!”) and his love interest, sparkly blue eyes and brunette curls, and gulp, there’s Kevin cleaning her wounds. Clearly, this movie, thirteen years my senior, was a pivotal moment for little me.
I tried to recreate this feeling the only way I knew how — by finding and watching every Kevin Bacon movie. I grew up with the belief that Kevin Bacon was an A-lister, the best of the best; I also grew up being told by my dad (a different Kevin) that they grew up near each other and “probably passed each…
