Josh Hartnett Is Smokin’ Hot In ‘Corduroy’

Josh Hartnett on the cover of “Corduroy.”
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine

Holy smokes! Staring at this cover of Corduroy (and I mean STARING, dry gluey eyes, slack jaw, nerves taut and singularly attentive, THE WORKS), I’m overcome with so many…feelings. It’s like I’ve just seen a GHOST, y’all! Or my war husband who I thought was killed in battle but unexpectedly returned after I accidentally fell in love with his best friend (lots of gold star stickers for your Trapper Keeper if you got the Pearl Harbor reference before I told you just now). It’s just that Josh Hartnett has flown so far under the radar and paparazzi flashbulbs since those days I spent meticulously lining the inside of my locker with his white-tank-top-swaddled visage, I’m taken aback by all this MAN I see before me.

Josh Hartnett in “Corduroy” magazine.
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine/Peter Ash Lee

Josh shoots a smoldering glance at the camera lens while delicately letting smoke escape from his pillowy lips (merely a conjecture because if I actually knew fo realz, I wouldn’t be furiously typing about it here; I’d be lounging with Josh in a California king bed with pristine white sheets with THE BEST tousled bedhead and all NOMNOMNOM GIMME MORE, obvi).

Josh Hartnett in “Corduroy” magazine.
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine/Peter Ash Lee

This relaxed short-sleeve henley is what we imagine Josh opening the door in when we drop by his apartment on a Sunday afternoon to help him run lines for his next project. And he has a rose for us, too, NBD. And he playfully pretends to smoke it and get a headache from the fumes as he gives it to us. Also, yes, this is the entire staff of MTV Style’s collective daydream, and yes, we would ALL be there on his doorstep.

Josh Hartnett in “Corduroy” magazine.
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine/Peter Ash Lee

After we run lines, he retreats to his room to later emerge in an expertly tailored charcoal three-piece suit (are you SEEING how well those pants fall?). “We’re going on a date!” he says excitedly. A series of seven panic attacks occurs because we rolled up in casualwear (we’re not in sweatpants or anything, HELLO, we’re at Josh Hartnett’s place, but we definitely aren’t appropriately robed for any restaurant shenanigans). We mistakenly underestimated Josh’s preparedness, though, as he unveils hand-picked outfits for each of us, all just the right size!! *swoooooon*

Josh Hartnett in “Corduroy” magazine.
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine/Peter Ash Lee

And thiiiiiiiis is Josh’s face after having to sit through three hours of women getting ready. *winces* Oops! #sorry

Josh Hartnett in “Corduroy” magazine.
Photo: Courtesy of “Corduroy” magazine/Peter Ash Lee

As we say goodnight, he glances down at his feet sheepishly in an instant that we try to make last forever. We soak in that skinny lapel, the elegant knot in his striped tie, the subtle crosshatch of his vest. Even the trash ’stache has grown on us, and we joke that maybe we’ll let him keep it for another week. And then there are no more pictures from our make-believe date with Josh Hartnett in Corduroy and we cry and cry and cry and Google image search him for the rest of the night.

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