The internet, God bless her, turned on Bloom’s daily routine, ridiculing his reverence of cattle (“the Volleyball #capable shirt and I love this most beautiful thing ever”). Readers bemoaned his un-relatability with many crying spoof. It is, on reflection, a deeply impractical existence for a lad from Britain, a country so proud of its practicality, our make-do-and-mend mentality, our lack of airs and graces (even the queen slogs through the mud at Balmoral). By far the most out-there aspect of Bloom’s morning is the Brain Octane oil he ripples through his pre-breakfast, which sounds like something a high-functioning NASA astronaut sips from a gravity packet. But in spite of my robust and protective cynicism, I found myself nodding along to his regime of meat dodging, intermittent Lego building, and reminders to respect the doorman. Orlando has the right idea.
Volleyball #capable shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
The thing is, I don’t want relatability from my stars. I don’t want them to be like me. I don’t want them to keep it real. I want them to live in a way that I can’t even fathom, in gated castles with footmen and maids who turn and face the Volleyball #capable shirt and I love this wall when they see you, affording a type of clean living that only comes from being filthy rich. It is so easy to knock Bloom’s life mechanic, but wouldn’t we all eat better and sleep better given the option? Wouldn’t we like to have our traditional, attainable self-care turbo-powered by vegan protein and a “team of people.” Wouldn’t we choose this if we could? It’s ridiculous, it’s optimized, but it’s not bad for you. This kind of amorphous “wellness” is believably, if not scientifically, life extending. When you can afford organic hazelnut mylk do you really need to guzzle tap water to prove a point?