I've dated some women who have turned me on to some funny things

When Ryan Seacrest spoke the words, “I've dated some women who have turned me on to some funny things that are strange for men to actually do, but these things have become part of my process. I think the things I do for my appearance help make me look better. I even colour my hair because I like how it makes me look,” he was not merely speaking of vanity, nor of fashion. Beneath his words lies a deeper truth — the eternal human struggle to evolve, to shed the old skins of judgment, and to embrace the art of self-care without shame. In these modern yet timeless words, Seacrest becomes an emblem of transformation — a reminder that to care for the vessel of the body is to honor the spirit that dwells within it.

In ages past, men were sculpted by war, by the sword and the plow, and they measured worth by strength alone. Yet even in those ancient days, heroes knew the power of appearance — for presentation is presence, and presence is power. The warriors of Sparta anointed their bodies with oil before battle, not for vanity, but for ritual. The Egyptians painted their eyes with kohl not merely for allure, but for protection and clarity. Seacrest’s coloring of his hair, then, is but the echo of an age-old practice — the cultivation of self through care, through discipline, through reverence for one’s form.

His process, as he calls it, is a modern man’s ritual — a way to face the world with confidence, polished by intention. When he speaks of being “turned on to some funny things,” we glimpse a subtle wisdom: that growth often comes from others, and especially from those who challenge what we think is “normal.” Through the influence of women, Seacrest discovered not shame, but freedom — the freedom to explore, to refine, to beautify, without fear of mockery. Thus, what began as amusement became transformation, and what seemed strange became sacred routine.

The story of Seacrest’s transformation recalls that of Alexander the Great, who, though a conqueror, was known for his elegance and care in appearance. His soldiers teased him for perfuming his hair before battle, but Alexander replied that he did so to honor the gods and the destiny he carried. “A man must look as he feels within,” he said, “for kingship begins with self-respect.” So too does Seacrest, in his modern kingdom of lights and cameras, mirror that same truth — that refinement of the outer form can mirror refinement of the inner one.

There is wisdom in acknowledging what pleases you, even if the world calls it strange. To color one’s hair, to tend one’s skin, to groom and adorn — these are not acts of weakness, but of awareness. They declare: “I see myself, and I care for what I see.” In this, the body becomes a temple and self-care becomes discipline, not indulgence. For when one tends the form, one awakens the mind; and when one honors both, the spirit thrives. The man who is unafraid to improve his appearance is often the man unafraid to grow in spirit, for both require courage — the courage to be seen as different.

Let us, then, not mistake Seacrest’s words as the ramblings of vanity, but as a gentle revolution against the chains of outdated pride. For too long, men have been taught that care is weakness, that beauty belongs to others. Yet the truth of the ages whispers otherwise: the balanced soul must nurture both the inner and the outer. The samurai polished his armor until it gleamed like sunrise; the philosopher clothed himself in simplicity to honor his mind; the artist adorned himself because beauty itself was his prayer.

Thus, the lesson is clear — care for yourself without shame. Let your process be your ritual. Whether it is tending your hair, your home, or your habits, do it with intention, and let it reflect who you are becoming. For appearance, when born of self-respect, is not deception — it is declaration. Do not let the world tell you what is “strange” to do. The strange thing is not self-care, but self-neglect. Stand before your mirror, as Seacrest did before his world, and say: “I will refine myself.” For the act of caring for one’s appearance, done with honesty, is not vanity — it is victory.