The Victorian era is the sexiest age for me, but I also like a

"The Victorian era is the sexiest age for me, but I also like a woman in a pair of jeans." – Dylan McDermott

In this statement, Dylan McDermott captures a truth about the timeless nature of attraction—how it is shaped by both history and individual preferences. The Victorian era, with its layers of mystery, elegance, and restraint, is seen by many as the epitome of a certain kind of sexiness—an allure that is both subtle and provocative. It is an era where beauty was as much about what was hidden as it was about what was shown, where modesty and suggestion carried a powerful, almost magnetic energy. McDermott's words speak to the mystique of the Victorian woman—a woman clothed in layers, her beauty not on display, but carefully concealed, inviting curiosity and intrigue.

Yet, McDermott also embraces the modern woman, one who wears jeans—the quintessential symbol of contemporary freedom, comfort, and confidence. The woman in jeans, in contrast, is uncomplicated, direct, and authentic—she is a far cry from the heavily adorned, constrained beauty of the Victorian age, yet no less captivating. McDermott’s appreciation for both embodies the duality of attraction—how our desires are shaped by both the past and the present, and how beauty can be found in opposing ideals. The Victorian era, with its emphasis on restraint, contrasted by the modern woman’s straightforward allure, exemplifies how attraction transcends specific periods of time and becomes, instead, a reflection of our individual perceptions and cultural contexts.

In ancient history, attraction was often defined by contrasts—the alluring beauty of a woman’s virtue was as much about what was hidden from view as it was about what was visible. The Greek myths were filled with tales of goddesses like Aphrodite, whose beauty was not simply in her outward appearance but in the power that her allure held over gods and men alike. She was a symbol of mystery and power, traits that, when combined with her physical beauty, made her irresistible. Similarly, Helen of Troy, whose beauty was so profound that it sparked the great Trojan War, embodied the idea that beauty and attraction often lie in what is not immediately accessible to the eye. Helen, like the women of the Victorian era, was both a vision of purity and a hidden temptation, an idea that powerfully resonates with McDermott’s appreciation for the mystique of past beauty.

Yet, as the centuries passed, the ideal of feminine beauty began to evolve. The Renaissance marked a shift toward celebrating the human form with greater clarity and expression, with artists like Leonardo da Vinci capturing both the beauty and complexity of the human body in ways that brought vulnerability and authenticity to the forefront. The modern woman, symbolized by McDermott’s love for a woman in jeans, echoes this shift—her beauty is no longer hidden behind layers of fabric and convention, but instead is seen in her freedom, her self-expression, and her ability to live authentically. McDermott’s words suggest that true attraction is not bound by the constraints of any particular era, but rather by how one presents and lives in their own time.

The tension between these two forms of attraction—the Victorian allure and the modern, liberated woman—reflects the duality of human desire: our longing for mystery, but also for authenticity. The ancients understood this tension well. The Romans, in their lavish festivals and artworks, often depicted women in various stages of undress or with an air of mystique, showing a desire to capture beauty both in its hidden and exposed forms. Yet, they also revered virtuous women like Lucretia, whose strength and virtue were more important than her outward appearance, showing that attraction to a woman’s inner character and integrity transcends physical beauty.

The lesson McDermott’s quote offers us is not just about appearance—but about the broader idea of embracing contrast and complexity. Just as the ancients celebrated both mystery and virtue, so too should we appreciate the multiple dimensions of human attraction. A woman, like all people, is a complex mix of history, personality, and choices—sometimes veiled in elegance and restraint, other times boldly walking in jeans, unapologetic and free. Beauty exists not in one fixed form, but in the interplay between the past and present, the visible and invisible, the restrained and the bold.

In practical terms, the lesson here is one of balance. Attraction is a reflection not just of outer beauty, but of inner strength and authenticity. We should not judge others—or ourselves—based on a single moment, but rather embrace the full spectrum of what makes us beautiful, whether it’s the quiet allure of mystery or the confident, unfiltered expression of modernity. Let us learn to appreciate the complexity in all people, and to see the beauty in both the subtle and the bold. This, after all, is what makes the world a truly beautiful place—where the essence of attraction lies in our diversity and our ability to express it in every era.