What does the future hold for metrosexuals, other than steadily-declining fashionability and vague, doomed, and renumerative jobs in the Middle East? Oh, if only there were an oracle, a source of the wisdom and self-knowledge for which metrosexuals are so very not renowned.

Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting:

The Metrosexual Tarot Deck.

The Barista

The fool who makes your coffee languishes at the bottom of the metrosexual heap — shaggy hair, shabby chic, non-existent manicure. So why does he seem so serene and self-actualized? He makes a hundred drinks in a morning, yet he always remembers to make yours extra hot, with soy milk. At first you dismiss him as an overeducated joker. Before long, you realize he’s a nurturer, cheerleader, caffeinated shaman. What is it with this guy? Is he a graduate student? Does he play in a band, or what? You ask him, but he only smiles, and pulls another shot.

Meaning: Vision, flexibility, resourcefulness, travel.

Reversed: Indecision, with a change to come.

Go on, go on. Deck yourself out; deal yourself in. You know you want to. The Clubs are represented by Martini glasses, and the suits are Shoes, Potions, Forks, and Clubs! That is what I call playing with a full deck.

The Major Arcana, as if you pampered city dwellers couldn’t have already guessed, are:

The City (Seattle), The Loft, the Gay Pal, the Closet (no reason these are adjacent, none at all), The Personal Trainer, The Salon, Fabulousness, The Diet, The Gym, The DJ, Abs, the Designer, Therapy, The Barista, The Manicurist, Age, The Partners, The Sale, Prescriptions, Cocktails, The Stylist, and The Decorator.

Now I need a Ketel One Martini; I feel as if I just finished a Bret Easton Ellis novel. Do they still make those?

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::