The New Gentleman

The metrosexual, you’ll recall, was a term coined by Mark Simpson, a British journalist, in 1994 that identified a narcissistic segment of the male population that was the antithesis of the Marlboro Man. They highlighted their hair, pampered themselves with manicures and spa treatments, and fussed over the latest fashions.

Clooney, however, embodies a fresh approach to style — what I call the New Gentleman — and it’s a trend that’s gaining ground fast.

Clooney, more than any other actor, has been heralded as the next Cary Grant. To his credit, he does not show the slightest interest in becoming a carbon copy of any actor, not even the iconic Grant. He might learn from Grant and other paragons of Hollywood’s Golden Age, but he has not sacrificed his individuality by making a fetish of aping another man’s style.

And it shows in his work. Both A-list and independent, he astutely rattles the last dime out of the box office with commercial films like “Ocean’s Eleven” — and “Twelve” and the forthcoming “Thirteen” — and then uses his box-office clout to direct smaller, riskier films with a more artistic bent, some less than enthralling to critics, like “The Good German,” a stylish retro-noir thriller shot in black and white.

Still, he goes his own way, undiscouraged, admirably adhering to a personal vision, regardless of the critical or commercial reaction. Last year, of course, it paid off with a best supporting actor Oscar for his role in “Syriana” and a best director nomination for “Good Night, and Good Luck.”

Offscreen, Clooney alternates between a sporty elegance and more formal Armani suits and dashing Covert coats; he’s well dressed but not too well dressed. You don’t get the sense that he has a lot of skin moisturizers in his bathroom or fusses with styling gels to perfect the warp and woof of his hair. He leaves all that to Ryan Seacrest, the metrosexual poster boy.