Trudeau and Perry’s Youthful Aspiration

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As is often the case these days, it unfolded on a luxury vessel. Last weekend, the Daily Mail disseminated a sequence of images revealing the American vocalist Katy Perry locking lips on the top deck of her ship, the Caravelle, with her newfound romantic companion, the former Canadian Head of Government Justin Trudeau. Perry, who earlier in the year concluded her relationship with her longtime associate and the father of her child, the thespian Orlando Bloom, donned a somber, single-piece swimsuit, her locks arranged casually in a chignon. Trudeau, having parted ways with his spouse and the mother of his trio of offspring, Sophie Grégoire Trudeau, in 2023, appeared bare-chested and clad in denim, in the vein of R.F.K., Jr., fitness apparel. The somewhat blurred snapshots were allegedly captured off the Santa Barbara coastline by an individual aboard a neighboring whale-watching craft, and seemed to decisively validate an affair which had, up until then, been solely the subject of conjecture, spurred by a July encounter of the duo dining tête-à-tête at a Montreal eatery, succeeded shortly thereafter by Trudeau’s presence at a Perry musical performance.

Yacht dalliances and the tabloid outlets that enjoy showcasing them are by no means novel: in the nineteen-sixties, we witnessed Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor luxuriating on their yacht, Kalizma, off the Sardinian shore; in the nineteen-seventies, we saw Jacqueline Kennedy and Aristotle Onassis traversing the Greek isles on the stately yacht Christina; and, in the early two-thousands, we were treated to Jennifer Lopez’s playful music video for her track “Jenny from the Block,” which featured her then fiancé, Ben Affleck, having his photograph snapped by paparazzi on a yacht’s patio while applying sunblock to his beloved’s bikini-clad posterior. (Within literature, the heritage of the yacht as a focal point for amorous entanglement and hearsay extends even further back, to Edith Wharton’s 1905 tome “The House of Mirth,” wherein the captivating yet unfortunate Lily Bart sails the Mediterranean with the scheming Bertha Dorset and her betrayed husband, George.)

Of late, however, the renown of the celebs-on-a-yacht genre has attained unprecedented levels. Following their reconciliation in 2021, Affleck and Lopez were seen essentially re-enacting the “Jenny from the Block” sun protection factor visual on a stately yacht off the coast of Saint-Tropez, but this represented merely the initial fraction of what has since evolved into a comprehensive phenomenon. Within 2025 alone, we have observed, amidst numerous other instances, Leonardo DiCaprio and Vittoria Ceretti unwinding on the deck within sight of Formentera; Dua Lipa and Callum Turner exhibiting affection off the Amalfi Coast; and Nina Dobrev and Zac Efron “igniting romance whispers,” according to TMZ, in Sardinian waters. This profusion bears some connection, I believe, to the rise of the definitive masters of yachting and romance: Jeff Bezos and his spouse, Lauren Sánchez. During the past couple of years, it has almost felt as if one could not scroll through one’s social-media stream without encountering fresh portraits of the scantily clad couple frolicking about the Amazon magnate’s five-hundred-million-dollar megayacht, Koru. Buttock-slapping, picture-taking, foam-partying: it all transpired on the vessel.

Katy Perry is acquainted with Bezos and Sánchez and has herself indulged in time on Koru. In April, she also boarded another craft linked to the pair, when she accompanied Sánchez and four other women on Bezos’s Blue Origin space-tourism rocket, for an eleven-minute suborbital excursion. This was presented as a feminine-empowerment-themed, “Taking Up Space” endeavor, and Perry articulated, with a touch of humor, her aspiration to “put the ass in astronaut.” (“Space is going to finally be glam,” she predicted.) The voyage, however, garnered considerable criticism (the Guardian asserted that it signaled “the utter defeat of American feminism”)—a response that followed on the heels of other public Perry disappointments. The previous year, she unveiled the single “Woman’s World,” which was broadly derided for its outdated girlboss communication—the song, Pitchfork penned, sounds like “its author had to have feminism explained to her by the top half of the first page of Google”—and which peaked at No. 63 on the Billboard rankings. (None of the other selections on her latest album, “143,” made any noteworthy chart impact.) Despite her ongoing Lifetimes global tour reportedly faring commendably from a commercial standpoint, Perry is evidently no longer the culturally relevant, multiplatinum-selling performer she once was during the earlier phases of her vocation.

Perry’s new beau, for his part, has also been navigating alterations. Trudeau, with his esteem as P.M. waning, subsequent to an escalating shortfall and tariff menaces from Donald Trump, tendered his resignation in January as the head of the Canadian Liberal Party—a role he had occupied since 2013. In March, following a decade in governance, he relinquished his position as Prime Minister. Abruptly devoid of political office, he became a private citizen for the first occasion in a prolonged span. Irrespective of being in civic duty or not, however, Trudeau has invariably embodied one attribute: an inherent celebrity. With his matinee-idol handsomeness—imposing stature, broad shoulders, azure eyes, and a cascading coiffure—Trudeau remains a Prince Valiant-esque character whether wielding power or not. (In 2017, a pervasive meme dubbed him “Mr. Steal Yo Girl,” owing to the lovestruck reactions he seemingly elicited in Ivanka Trump, the Duchess of Cambridge, the actress Emma Watson, and even President Trump.)

As the progeny of Pierre Trudeau, Canada’s Prime Minister from 1968 to 1979, and, again, from 1980 to 1984, Justin Trudeau likewise constitutes a political beneficiary of nepotism. His intrinsic allure does not solely originate from Pierre’s past station, however, but also from the circumstance that both his progenitor and his mother, Margaret Trudeau, were themselves natural celebrities who shone brightly beyond the political domain. This was manifest, for one, in their amorous lives: Pierre, whose advent into the Canadian political milieu triggered a fanatical frenzy recognized as Trudeaumania, courted Barbra Streisand in the late nineteen-sixties; and Margaret, subsequent to separating from the considerably older Pierre, proceeded to be romantically associated with Jack Nicholson, Ryan O’Neal, and, perhaps most infamously, the Rolling Stones’ Ronnie Wood. (In her 2010 autobiography, “Changing My Mind,” wherein she openly examines her struggle with bipolar disorder, Margaret composed of those years, “I became a cover girl, a celebrity in an age before the celebrity culture, famous for nothing except for my scandalous behavior.”)

Trudeau’s glittering heritage might have primed him for what the existence of an out-of-office politician increasingly resembles in the present day. It’s a role that an individual such as President Barack Obama, for example, has executed impeccably. Since departing the White House, in 2017, Obama has been committed to establishing the Obama Presidential Center, in Chicago; he has additionally undertaken some campaigning for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris during their respective races; but he has predominantly, as USA Today composed recently, continued “to keep his sight set on opportunities in media and entertainment.” He and his wife, Michelle, possess a deal with Netflix via the couple’s Higher Ground production enterprise; he has enlisted—as Harris and Biden also have—with the talent representation agency C.A.A.; and he has been a conspicuous presence within the pop-culture sphere, furnishing music, literary, and cinematic recommendation rosters to his followers on social media, and appearing as a guest on podcasts. (On Monday, he featured on the concluding installment of Marc Maron’s “WTF” podcast.) He’s furthermore socialized, frequently on holiday, on occasion on stately yachts, with the renowned and exceedingly wealthy: Richard Branson, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Hanks, Oprah, Steven Spielberg. His assimilation into Hollywood has manifested so profoundly as to render him the subject of unsubstantiated amorous speculation: Obama, a preposterous rumor circulated, was engaged in an extramarital affair with the actress Jennifer Aniston. (Aniston refuted the affair, and the Obamas conveyed on a podcast that they were still together.)

What has become increasingly apparent is that we no longer inhabit the epoch of the late Jimmy Carter, with his post-Presidency dedication to community service. Conversely, we now exist in an era of democratized celebrity, sprawled in the resplendent sunlight. This is at least partially the consequence of residing in Trump’s America: the incumbent President has been recognized throughout the duration of his civic life as, first and foremost, a conspicuously affluent and conspicuously famed individual, and, as Empire disintegrates, what other recourse remains but to emulate his example? One might be a reality personality akin to a Kardashian or a Jenner, or a billionaire in the mold of Bezos; one might be a performer such as DiCaprio or a media mogul along the lines of Oprah. One might even be a pop vocalist such as Perry or a political figure such as Trudeau. On the yacht, and within the lens of the camera, all are equivalent, and all are savoring their moment, merely endeavoring to navigate through another day. ♦

Sourse: newyorker.com

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