st

leahbou:

Rob dancing in the water in panties ! :p

leahbou:

Young Robbie <3

leahbou:

“Kids”

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

SMILE!

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

perfectiongonewrong:

My mother and I share a crush on this man.

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

Impressed (rockDJ)

‘rw:Sepia’

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

Obsessed with RW

youknowme-rw:

Foreword
For the last twenty years - ever since a sixteen-year-old boy called Robert Peter Williams, fresh from a short and disastrous double-glazing apprenticeship, joined a boy band and was told his new name - he has been Robbie Williams. And here, laid out in frony of him, in his Los Angeles home, is the photographic evidence.
  Twenty years of singing, songwriting and performing. Twenty years of adventure, mischief, hiding and self-exposure. Twenty years of triumph, mishap, uncertainty and irrepressibility all staring back at him. To be honest, for him it’s a little odd. He is not the kind of man who surrounds himself with photographs that remind him who he is and what he has done. He is baffled when he visits someone else’s house to discover that they are decorated with multiple images of themselves. So he finds it strange, and surprising, to do what he is now doing. To spend weeks looking at photographs of Robbie Williams, and remembering who he has been.
  We are all separated from who we once were. By time. By our own best or worst effects. By Biology. By fate - or, if you prefer, the random aggregation of events that impact  each one of us differently. But for the famous, there are other kinds of separation. There are all the ways in which who you are - and so who you were - is distorted as it reflects back at you by the world. There are also the ways - through performance, acting, self - mythologising, self-protection and so on - in which you do your very best to distort who you are. (To succeed as an entertainer, and to be beloved, seems to require a delicate, curious and individual balancing act between the parallel skills of being who you are and who you are not.)
  To look back across everything that has separated us from our former selves can be unnerving for any of us, but for the famous maybe more so. Especially as, for the famous, photographs have so many more uses and misuses. They are not just visual memos - they are a part of how you invent yourself, they are  part of how you sell yourself, they are part of how you are harassed, and they are a part of how you are judged. 
  So when he takes the time to look back over the twenty years he has been photographed as Robbie Williams, there is occasionally the fond rush that comes when buried happy memory is triggered and exhausted, but as a rule his reactions are more complicated - the kind of reactions that feed this book’s content, but also to some extent form its subject.
  After one particularly long day reflecting on escapades, glories and missteps of someone who look exactly like him, but younger, he notes this:    ’It’s like it happened to someone else.’
   He knows very well that it didn’t. But I also think he needs to remind us, and himself, that it did.

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

Matured.

hellyeahrobbiewilliams:

towel