#racing drivers

[favourite-canadian-polls]

Tumblr's Favourite Canadian: Round 1, Poll 3

Lance Stroll vs. Avril Lavigne

Lance Stroll

Avril Lavigne

Voting ended onApr 13, 2025

Information below the cut.

Lance Stroll (b. October 29, 1998) is a Formula 1 driver originally from Montreal, Québec. He drives for Aston Martin alongside Fernando Alonso, and has gotten one pole position and three podiums.

Avril Lavigne (b. September 17, 1984) is a musician originally from Belleville, Ontario. She is a major figure in pop-punk music, and her 2002 album Let Go is the best-selling album by a Canadian artist of this century. She is best known for her songs "Girlfriend," "Sk8er Boi," and "Complicated."

[sugar-petals]

Hi caro, hope you're doing well ⚘️ here's a photo of Charles leclerc with his hair up ( this is like the holy graal, so difficult to find pics of him like this) . Looks great on him ! Better than his curls ,it suits his DC type . You said beards/mustaches are N/R but can be adapted to fit any type . I still really like Charles' facial hair , is it because he's not 100% symmetrical like a pure classic and is it because he's closer to soft natural? ( I want to see him without the facial hair too ) . Have a nice day ☀️

an important factor for beards: in seasonal color terms, charles leclerc is a winter. look how delicately cool-toned this man is, and how much he pulls off ridiculously bright colors... seeing charles is like spotting a flower in a desert 🥲

his appearance has so much chroma, it's insane. never seen anyone like it. chroma = dial up the color to full saturation, resulting in extreme, bright intensity of the hue, like the new superman or fantastic four movie.

so, charles belongs to a season that can handle even the heaviest colors of them all. the more intense you go, the more beautiful he looks. winter men need popping color in their style.

putting charles in low contrast orangey/banana warm tones is like switching the lights off. terrible effect on his complexion. my boy looks green! 😭😫 a miserable palette choice by the designers. when will ferrari stop making their drivers look like mcdonalds ads ffs 🙄 (charles is still gorgeous anyway)

it's more than obvious that adding depth to his styling makes his face look amazing. it's defined, not green (lmao), healthy rosy glow... look at how dark this hue is ⬇️ the market is full of black clothing but only few people can go this dark without being overpowered. for charles it's the other way around. he's the important one here, not the fashion item. that's the goal of color analysis.

now, what does that all mean for beards, though?

as we see, winters thrive on contrast - and since charles' hair is so beautifully dark, the stronger beard style fits perfectly into the black & white color palette that this season is all about.

as with kibbe, to style someone well, we only add what's already there. we'd do the opposite for a light summer type man, give him a close shave to reduce disparity. if you look at bnw pics of charles, we see how distinct his features are. and a defined beard belongs to that level of contrast.

yes, a too-long beard is too untidy imo, he's not a natural kibbe type; classics like him ideally wear their beards neat and geometric.

(his brother arthur is the N type. taller, the shoulder shape is blunt, not rectangular like charles. in many families, we find completely different kibbe types. arthur has a strong FN vertical, not compact.)

winter is such a mesmerizing season... surround charles with the hues that contradict him the most, dress him in the deepest black, photograph him, his face gleams. most men can't wear black unless they're deep autumns, but winter guys... you see how well this works.

(add that ferrari always puts VERY glaring colors on their drivers as if they're goalkeepers, which would humiliate 80% of us mere mortals, but it benefits charles tremendously. winter has the most screaming color palette. the patriarchal standard says bright tones belong to women as a marker and guys should dress plain, but both the animal world and color analysis say otherwise.)

most of men's fashion is muted in color 🙄 boring and ugly! i hate it. winter guys can do clear, intense hues. crisp and cool! winter is the brightness of the snow and the dark of the night. contrast also means introducing super icy colors. it's especially fantastic on him!

autumns like his new team mate lewis hamilton also fall into the high-contrast seasons, and thus can pull off stronger beards well. lewis as a theatrical romantic body type does the softer-outline (=yin) style best, with slight structure, so cute on him. ferrari truly never had a single ugly driver they are all so handsome

the transformative power of beards and longer hair is insane. lewis often dresses his type at big events and i love his take on formal, genderless menswear. perfect for TR. and warm purples on autumn types... wow.

see how the beard doesn't even grab attention while being shaved lacks the contrast that his eyes/brows already hint at on the left? whereas, on the right, they don't stick out and we look at lewis as a whole:

bonus :: why beards work for dramatic classic men!

(...it's because of their D-type undercurrent)

DC is a type that doesn't have a lot of yin. they might appear smaller than other men, e.g. charles is medium height, but beards tend to be yang as they line the jaw, mouth, sideburns, and that V-shape or rectangle is often dramatic in its shape. not to mention that most beards would naturally be very elongated if guys never shaved. the FN or D type wizard in fantasy movies. elongation is never yin! yin would be: our pupils (rounded, small.)

also, beard hair is often rough, not fine yin like baby hair. romantic and gamine men might have curly beards. but DC's beard hair is coarse. the kibbe motto is: yin is detail you see up close. yang is what you see from a mile away. it's obvious where charles' famous musketeer-style beard falls on that spectrum. nothing about it is subtle. it's very masculine yang. the "M" outline above the lip is sharp.

if we go by kibbe's typecasting, DC women are the first ladies, so i propose that DC guys are the gentlemen. a gentleman comes along either silky smooth or with a nicely trimmed moustache. the reason why charles became famous quickly is because he so easily embodies his image ID. sophisticated, vintage cars, armani.

(kibbe never named his male types and that's a shame)

this subtype is influenced by the dramatic type's palette. extreme yang means extreme color difference. beards can often hit the spot for that. when done correctly, it lends a geometric shape to pick up on the other features.

a beard brings balance to the eyebrows (!) and classics do balance best. charles has such ridiculously strong brows, see how a patchy/less blocky beard leaves all the attention on them and his complexion pales a bit? that's because the balance is thrown off. he doesn't look bad at all, but the face does fade a bit.

however, classic men can do without the beard just as well. charles looks amazing all shaved (although 15 years younger lmao). look up his days when he drove for the sauber team. long as its well-kept and subtle. a bit of stubble going on doesn't distract from the face. that's where his balance shows. it does however put the focus on the surrounding colors, in this case, the cap.

i like the beard a little in between, classic is a golden middle ground after all, so we can still see his face pop. add a deeper shade of red and it works.

as for the curls, the hair pushed back is so good on dramatic classics, charles rarely does that style but yeah. it's better than letting the hair be fuzzy (N-type). a bit of a sleek gel doesn't hurt!

arthur as an FN type does the wild ruffled hair much better. natural men easily wear their style as if they just went through a storm. helmet hair is no enemy for this type.

doesn't work for charles. i'm sure he's a classic, not soft natural. helmet hair looks too funny on him lmao, the sleek look is much more adequate.

for romantics we do the opposite, freely bouncing beautiful curls above the shoulders. for lewis, i love his little dye gradients, those are perfect for yin types (gentle > hard color transition). again, we see the principle: yang shows at a distance, but yin is up close and soft in texture. 🥰

[moonyontrack]

"maybe try in spanish" oh, how i love you charismatic, determined, sharp-minded, impeccably stylish, beautiful, fiercely competitive, effortlessly charming, daringly bold, relentlessly passionate, breathtakingly talented, strategically astute, world-class, awe-inspiring, unyieldingly ambitious, 1.80m monegasque scuderia ferrari formula 1 driver you're so dear to me you ball full or rage 🖤

[dedeinthewild]

high school - ralf aron x reader no labels

I feel so high school every time I look at you. I want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you.

Italy had almost seen them grow up together, while he chased an almost unreachable dream, and she stayed behind the barriers with that adorable smile, carrying colorful signs and an air of lightness that contrasted slightly with the smell of tires and the sound of bolts falling to the ground. They had spent the day in the paddock, holding cups of ice cream and chatting with journalists who knew them and wanted to congratulate the Estonian on his successes in the new championship, and only in the late afternoon did they move toward the circuit’s exit. The Formula One flags were high in the sky, illuminated by that light that reminded him of her eyes, and all the fans leaned against the barriers with flags and caps, waiting for their favorite drivers to pass by, making the day almost unforgettable. And they would never have expected to be the main attraction, behind all those rising stars and the teams that made the racing world possible.

The first to recognize Ralf was a girl with long brown hair and a Ferrari t-shirt, who smiled and called out to him, waving her hand and tiny little bracelets while fans were everywhere.

“I have something for you!” she said as he approached. He had that mature air he had always had, along with a familiar face and confident steps. He was wearing an old dark polo shirt he had found that morning in his suitcase while his roommate brushed her teeth humming a song they had listened to together the night before in the taxi that took them to the hotel, and a pair of jeans that made her look effortlessly beautiful. She always joked that, since leaving the Italian team, he had lost a few curls, and his face had become less young and vigorous, but every time she looked at him, she felt exactly like the girl who had fallen in love with him years before.

“Are these all for us?” the fan handed him a small keychain full of tiny friendship bracelets, some made of thread and others with beads.

“Are there any for me?” the girl asked, moving slightly closer, looking at what Ralf held and realizing that, without knowing it, she had become part of that big motorsport family. She chose one that said “no1 supporters” with Paul’s little racing number on the side, slipping it onto her wrist and watching it dangle alongside all her other bracelets.

Ralf smiled, caught up in chatting with all those people, charming the younger ones by posing for photos, accepting a dozen bracelets which he carefully put on his arm, making happy all the girls who had spent days making them to then trade them at the track. They were the slowest to move on and were, to say the least, surprised by this. Behind them, the Formula 2 drivers passed almost unnoticed, while many were busy chatting with them and talking about Paul. She moved ahead, picking up another bracelet and exchanging a few words, often teasing Ralf playfully, who looked at each person as if they were his friend, but always reserved a softer, sweeter look for her, which made her smile like few things in the world could.

There was a pleasant breeze, softening the heat they had endured all day, and the light became increasingly golden as time passed.

“I’m really loving this,” he said when he reached her, bringing his wrist close to hers.

“They make a great matching set,” her voice was soft, low, as if she were sharing a secret.

They posed for photos together, Ralf always finding a new way to make her laugh and get the biggest smile ever in every shot, their arms looking like chaotic rainbows as he helped her put some of the bracelets on her wrist and then thanked the girls handing them to him. He sent a few winks here and there, chatting with fans and sharing some funny stories about Paul, as if persuading them not to follow him too closely, even though he knew how special his brother was and how devoted and convinced his fanbase could be.

She looked at him like she always had, like when she entered the Prema garages and got lost in the loud music and the sound of bolts dropping, while Angelina arrived to mess up her hair that he would later fix in the reflection of the trophies. And then he turned, giving her a playful kiss just below her jaw, making her squirm and wrinkle her nose. At that moment, he seemed exactly the same guy she had met, with a mature smile and ready sarcasm, while his blue eyes shifted from one fan to another, as they did from turn to turn when he was at the wheel. He seemed a bit shorter, a bit less muscular than usual when he looked at her that way. When she thought about how adorable and sweet he was.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she said jokingly as he passed behind her, brushing her side without realizing it while she spoke about the Formula 2 qualifying they had watched earlier.

“She just said we’re Paul’s parents, I feel like that’s our perfect title,” he replied, making the fan smile.

She pulled a banner from her backpack, which she had attached to the barriers in her grandstand that morning when the Estonian had driven the FP1 session for Alpine in front of the fans at the temple of speed. In large blue letters, it read: “The only thing better than Paul’s his special support crew,” and showed a photo of Ralf and her from the previous year, watching him win in Qatar and holding his golden trophy high.

“Too late then,” she smiled at him.

The sun caught in his hair, a stray strand brushing his forehead. His eyes met hers, and there it was: that quiet, undeniable, warm, ridiculous, perfect gaze that had made her stomach flip since the first time they met and he signed her little cap.

They continued walking slowly, promising each other to be truly the fan favorites, a few steps apart, enjoying that special, light atmosphere that felt impossible to translate or describe. Ralf’s phone screen lit up with his younger brother’s name, and, seeing the time, he realized he had lingered a bit too long in that corridor of people. He looked at the girl, seeing how happy she was in that moment, talking to the girls she met and somehow connecting with them, without having the heart to leave before saying goodbye so as not to seem rude.

He didn’t immediately realize what was happening when he felt the Estonian’s arm wrap around her legs, lifting her effortlessly, and then he turned, meeting Ralf’s smirk that seemed to say this was the only solution. There were only a few left, and she decided she could indulge in a little foolishness.

“Sorry, or we’re going to have to walk to the hotel, Paul’s quite impatient,” he smiled, taking a few steps with her on his shoulder while the remaining girls laughed and filmed the moment.

He set her down after a few meters, placing her back on the ground with that smile that made her pleasantly annoyed, running his hands through her hair while admiring how the sun had brought out a few freckles on her nose, and despite the long day, she looked so beautiful in those jeans and the shirt Paul had given them both when his collection was released. She laughed, looking adorable, the bracelets jingling softly on her wrist.

“You really can’t keep yourself from doing a number, huh?” he teased.

“Got me.”

The girl slipped into the passenger seat, next to Ralf’s younger brother, while he sat in the back seats and held her hand, running his fingers over each bead and stroking her skin.

“Yours are cuter than mine,” she said, with a playful pout. She took one of the bracelets, putting it on her wrist with the doe-eyed look of someone who knew she would win.

“Don’t steal them,” she pulled back her arm, moving to look at him as if challenging him. He looked at her for a moment, as if memorizing every detail of her face—the curve of her smile, the way the evening light lit her eyes, and the soft flicker of laughter in her gaze. He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark and warm, lips quirked into that quiet smirk only he could pull off. Then, almost without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. Softly, quietly, with that careful confidence that always made her heart trip over itself.

She froze for a moment, caught between disbelief and delight, before turning her gaze back to the road. The golden haze of the evening wrapped around them both like a private bubble. Paul drove straight to the hotel, while they listened and teased him, talking about their day and playing with what they had received from his fans.

They had gone far. The Free Practices in Monza had brought, along with their chaos, years of stacked moments, but everything still felt like the early days, when she was still afraid to look at him, believing it wasn’t real or that she would ruin everything with a word. When everything was too fast, their laughter too loud, and every little gesture carried the promise of something thrilling and forbidden.

They grew older, much more comfortable with each other, but that feeling of the heartbeat racing more than usual, of falling for someone over and over again, no matter how many years passed or how things changed.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm betting on all three for us two Get my car door, isn’t that sweet? Then pull me to the backseat No one’s ever had me not like you

A moot of mine has been going through a ralf phase (It's never phase) and after seeing an edit of him with So High School I had to write this. It's not what I had in mind, but it's cute so I'll leave it at that. And me listening to Taylor is the most rare thing you'll ever see in my life lol

[n0vazsq]

INTRODUCTION‎‎‎ .ᐟ

alexavia. ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎xvi.‎ she ! ‎‎her ― ‎ avid motorsport & football enjoyer

full blog inspo credits ― @suprclark !

MASTERLIST : CARRD : CURRENT WORKS : REBLOGS

REQUESTS ・ CLOSED ― requesting guidelines !

NOTICES ― i , ii

© n0vazsq. do not steal, copy, or translate my works without my knowledge. everything i write it my own unless mentioned otherwise.

[itzmaxiel]

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT IS FINALLY HAPPENING!!!

Arthur you made it! A dream is coming true🥹

Can't wait to watch you and enjoy this 60 minutes. I'm going to enjoy ever single one of it🥹

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Ayrton and I were born to compete with each other… He would leave no stone unturned to get the utmost out of his car and his team.

Nigel Mansell on his rival Ayrton Senna

In the annal of F1 racing the Mansell/Senna rivalry is less revered than those of Senna/Prost or Mansell/Piquet of that time. It might be because there was less sniping in between races, less for the press to write about. Occasionally the fighting spilled over into the pits but Mansell and Senna generally did their talking on the track (most of the time), creating great battles which have lived long in the memory.

The Monaco Grand Prix in 1992 was one of those races where that rivalry really rose to the top. Senna was renowned for dominating Monaco, winning there six times, but it was his defensive drive over Mansell which was possibly his most famous that lives in the memory.

Mansell was desperate to claim victory at a race he’d never won, and he got off to a good start by taking pole by 0.8sec and then converting this into the race lead. The Williams driver streaked away, leading by almost 30 seconds until lap 71, when Mansell thought he detected a left-rear slow puncture. A long stop for the Williams man meant that Senna managed to take the lead. Coming out 7 seconds back, Mansell easily closed up, and with three laps left he was all over the Brazilian’s gearbox. Mansell ducked left and right, but Senna was managed to make his MP4/7A as wide as possible, leaving no passing opportunity at all. After three furious laps in which Senna put on perhaps F1’s greatest ever defensive display, the Brazilian duly took the win, snatching the victory from an exhausted Mansell

Ayrton Senna in the McLaren MP4/7A having a heated battle with Nigel Mansell in the Williams FW14B, during the Grand Prix de Monaco in 1992.

[zingaplanet]

It was a warm blue sky in May, I remember.

Clouds rolling away in idleness and the road seems to stretch out forever

As I climb up that hill time passes by,

Nothing else matters and everything is as it should be

Don't worry about me, I am but a lap ahead

Don't wait for me,

I am already home.

Imola 1994

Ayrton Senna of Brazil lost his life racing through Tamburello at 191mph. He was 34 years old.