WSJ Magazine recently featured a story titled, “Death of a Playboy”, in which they report on a time when globe-trotting men with a certain swagger and privilege didn’t feel the need to advertise their status to everyone around them. the whole piece is worth a read, however the following excerpt sums it up pretty nicely:

Perhaps the phoniest version of the jet-setting “good life” appears in Sean “Diddy” Combs’s TV ads for his Sean John I Am King cologne. Diddy rides a jet-ski in a full tux, arrives at a helipad armed with body-suited supermodels Bar Refaeli and Ana Paula Araújo at his side, and strides through the Mediterranean in full black tie. If he saw it, Gunter Sachs, the impeccably dressed, tousled-haired heir to Germany’s Opel automobile dynasty, might shoot himself all over again. In his day, a playboy didn’t shout he was a “playah”—he just . . . was. What the deuce did he care if anyone else knew it?