When I was 13 years old, I was really into Michael Hutchence. I would cut photos of him into heart shapes and then sticky tape them to my skin, where I approximated my own heart to be. I would secretly wear him like that all day, under my school shirt.
This is a mildly mortifying memory, but having a crush on a celebrity heart-throb is the kind of thing you do when you are 13. Many of us have a Michael Hutchence in our past. Then you grow up, peel off the paper hearts, pull down your posters, and donate all your embarrassing band T-shirts to Vinnies. You age out of the depth of feeling that can inspire you to stick someone’s face to your body.
