Let’s take a little walk down memory lane—preferably shirtless and in metallic shorts—because once upon a very sweaty, very extra time in the early 2000s, Ryan Phillippe had the girls, gays, and anyone with a pulse collectively gasping for air.
Before Instagram filters and TikTok thirst traps, there was Ryan Phillippe’s Flaunt Magazine photoshoot—shot by none other than the king of surreal pop-glam photography, David LaChapelle. Yes, that shoot. The one that practically melted magazine pages and awakened something very primal in all of us.
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In one particularly unforgettable shot, the Cruel Intentions heartthrob serves his best “aw shucks” innocent boy face while rocking a sleeveless cropped jersey and metallic shorts so shiny they could probably be seen from space. The abs? Flawless. The smolder? Lethal. The energy? Pure Y2K chaos meets angel-faced sin.
And the lips? Oh, honey—the lips were juicy. The kind of glisten that makes you pause and wonder: was it lip balm or divine intervention? Probably strawberry ChapStick, the kind you panic-bought at your local drugstore after gym class. Glossy, plump, and just kiss me under the bleachers enough to ruin your entire week in the best way.
But wait—there’s more. In another shot, Ryan wears a hot pink button-down… that, thankfully, is not doing its job. Not a single button is in place. Not one. The shirt hangs loose, framing a smooth, dewy chest and barely covered legs with the sort of casual sinfulness usually reserved for fan fiction. It’s a vibe that says, “Oops, did I just roll out of bed like this? Too bad.” And we, the collective audience, said thank you.
Back in the late ’90s and early 2000s, Ryan was the it boy, sliding into our daydreams with his boy-next-door charm and bad-boy jawline. Cruel Intentions solidified him as our collective obsession, but this Flaunt shoot? This was the moment the fantasy became fashionably unhinged. And we ate it up.
In today’s world, Gen Z would be dissecting every inch of that shoot—zooming in on the sweat beads, creating fan edits with Doja Cat songs in the background, and debating in the comments whether Ryan walked so Timothée Chalamet could run. (He did, by the way.)
So here’s to Ryan Phillippe in 2000: a glistening, crop-top-wearing fever dream of Y2K lust and innocence, forever immortalized in a shoot that reminds us all—some things were just too hot for their time.
And if you’re wondering if we still have those photos saved somewhere? Yes. Yes, we do.
REFERENCE: FLAUNT Magazine