In a vibrant economy, they’d be traded in for younger faster models; but in these dark times of financial uncertainty and economic downturn, some kept boys are holding on -- and don’t plan on being gone tomorrow.

[BEL AIR.] CROW’S FEET should have been a sign of the End of Days.  Time to move on.  Forget about nips and tucks.  “You’ve got to be the mother of his children,” says “Brad,” a ruggedly handsome man in his mid 40s, “to get him to pay for major body work.  Otherwise it’s cheaper to trade you in -- unless you’ve got a real bargaining chip, like you've given him an heir, and hello, that was not gonna happen.   Anyway, I figured I’d hit my expiration date long before I needed more than regular maintenance.   I used to say, when working out every day and all the skin and hair care products don’t do the job?  Pack your bags.  But then it like hit me: dude, what if he can’t afford the upgrade? 

And that, explains Brad with a sigh and the flash of a very white smile, was when he realized the cloud of the New Great Depression might have a silver lining.

“At first of course it was just his Jewish friends, and he’d scoff and laugh and be all anti-semitic,” Brad explains.  “But I could tell he was nervous.  Then in December he decides to cancel our trip to Greece and the cruise and we end up spending Christmas at the ranch in Santa Barbara.” Which turned out to be convenient for the financial advisers, personal bankers, trust officers and lawyers Brad's keeper kept in business since it meant they didn’t have to use the private jet to deliver the bad news.  “The whole day was a nightmare – the phones did not stop and every time I looked out the window there’s another Town Car coming up the drive.  In the end, though, he didn’t lose nearly as much as a lot of people, thank god. The bright side, though – for me at least – was how much it scared him.  That night?  After everyone had gone he clutched my hand and with tears in his eyes – I swear, real tears! -- begged me not to leave him.  He said he could lose it all but he couldn’t do it alone.  Lucky for me he didn’t lose everything – trust me, the man is definitely not someone you’d ever want to be poor with, and I've been poor with some real scumbags.  But at least now I knew I was safe -- and comfortable." 

Brad’s story is confirmed by other men in similar positions.  “Rex” thought it was over when the Ferrari he’d been promised failed to arrive.  “I called the dealer and he told me the order had been cancelled.  The next night, the old boy's buddies come by for dinner and bridge and at one point we’re out by the pool having drinks and one of his hateful old chums turns to me and says, sotto voce, “I can’t believe you’re still here.”  I actually started to panic.  And then, you know what?  I just laughed.  What was I thinking?  If he tried to get rid of me I’d end up being his third palimony case. Third. And I knew the old bastard wasn’t going to waste his money.  So that night I flat out asked him.  How bad was it, you know?  It wasn’t about the Ferrari – I know how to economize.  When I met him I was turning tricks in the back of my GMC pick-up truck, you know?  I could live with a Porsche.  I just wanted to know where I stood.  Plus I still know a trick or two.  What can I say?  We reached an agreement.  I’m not going anywhere.”

"ONCE A GREAT BEAUTY"

You see them on the streets of every major city in the country, although they tend to be more prevalent on the coasts: the formerly beautiful down on their luck, the once perfect bodies ravaged by drugs and alcohol, the features and attributes which used to incite desire now either ffaded or abused into exhausted un-loveliness. 

But a new generation, born shortly after the Summer of Love and used to being objectified (and paid for it), isn’t content to be cast aside so quickly.  Not yet, at least.   And the current economic situation is persuading some consumers that shopping around is not necessarily a good idea. Sometimes it pays to stick with what you’ve got.    

“Frank” is a breathtaking 40 year-old actor/personal trainer/model/former realtor and someone who’s reached a lucrative understanding with the man he calls his “benefactor.”  “Sure,” he replies calmly when asked about competition.  “I see the new kids on the block, swaggering around at the gym, thinking they’re all that.  And yeah, some of them are young and hungry enough to think they can sell their bodies and not their souls and get away with it, and they say they’re willing to put out for financial security.  But it takes more than flawless abs and an ass you can slide a credit card down.  There’s more to it than kicking back and closing your eyes.  It's called earning your money the old fashioned way, and it isn’t all fun and games.  When Daddy’s Viagra won’t kick in and the old boy is playing pool with a piece of rope, you got your work cut out for you, I can tell you that.  These things can take hours.  And you don't get to just suffer through or act like you're doing him some kind of favor either.  You gotta make him feel every time like he’s the best you have ever had.  The. Best. Ever.”

Rex agrees.  “ Being kept is not for amateurs.  These kids today, they see some high-powered high-rolling silver-haired gentleman pull up in a Bentley and they think, hey, how bad could it be?  What they don’t know is the old boy has sexual tastes which require a room with a drain in the floor.”