Ah, Baz Luhrmann’s Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) ~ the ultimate life advice track disguised as a sunscreen commercial, narrated like your calmest uncle giving a TED Talk on how not to implode before 40. Released in 1998 on the album Something for Everybody, it’s the spoken-word equivalent of a self-help manual wrapped in Rozalla’s dance beat and dusted with a light SPF (sun protection factor) of surreal.
It all began, strangely enough, with a Chicago Tribune column. In 1997, journalist Mary Schmich wrote an essay titled “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young.” It was witty, heartfelt, and vaguely omniscient; the kind of thing that made you feel like maybe someone did leave a manual for life, and it was just printed in a newspaper between a cartoon about office cats and an ad for a used Chevy. Naturally, the internet got hold of it and immediately attributed it to Kurt Vonnegut. After all, if you’re going to get misquoted, at least make it literary.
Then Baz Luhrmann got involved. Yes, that Baz – of Moulin Rouge! and Romeo + Juliet fame – the human glitter cannon. He turned Schmich’s essay into a spoken-word track, added Lee Perry’s soothing narration, and made it sound as if the voice of God had suddenly developed a fondness for moisturiser. The result? A slow-burn cultural phenomenon that’s lived on graduation playlists and boomer Facebook walls ever since.
The opening line, “Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’99: Wear sunscreen,” is the gentlest threat you’ll ever hear. What follows is a buffet of wisdom: “Do one thing every day that scares you.” “Don’t waste your time on jealousy.” “Stretch.” It’s the kind of list you’d ignore completely in your twenties, quote earnestly in your thirties, and start preaching with slightly damp eyes in your forties.
And the real magic? None of it rhymes, similar to Talking Heads without the full on rhythm and it doesn’t need to. It’s not trying to sell you anything except common sense, humility, and maybe a gentle reminder to floss. And somehow, without rhyme or drum solo, it sticks.
What’s remarkable is how the song became a rite of passage. For many, it’s the unofficial soundtrack to the end of adolescence — a sonic time capsule that instantly conjures memories of awkward mortarboards and the scent of sun-warmed plastic chairs. Over the years, it’s been parodied, referenced, and lovingly memed; but the message endures: life is unpredictable, so protect yourself, literally and figuratively.
Baz’s version also set a precedent for the “advice song” genre, inspiring countless YouTube tributes, graduation speeches, and even advertising campaigns. It’s proof that a well-delivered truth, set to music, can become a generational touchstone — one that wears wraparound sunglasses and smells faintly of coconut.
A Note on Schmich’s Original Essay
It’s worth remembering that Mary Schmich’s essay wasn’t just a list of platitudes. It was a meditation on the fleeting nature of youth, the inevitability of regret, and the beauty of embracing imperfection. Schmich herself once said she wrote it as the commencement address she wished she’d received. In a world obsessed with certainty, her words offer a gentle nudge toward curiosity and resilience.
Author’s Notes
There’s something oddly comforting about being told to wear sunscreen by a man who once directed a movie where Ewan McGregor sings Your Song from an elephant-shaped nightclub. Life’s chaotic, and sometimes the most trustworthy voices come from the most glitter-covered places.
We’re both named Baz. That’s where the similarities end. He makes genre-defying art that dazzles global audiences. I once spilled sunscreen into a ukulele case and called it a “tropical accident.” Still, we both believe in the power of good advice, a decent beat, and not frying your skin like a chip.
If you didn’t hear this song at your high school graduation, were you ever truly sixteen? Bonus points if someone played it on a tape labeled “Summer 1999 – Deep Feels Edition.” Double bonus if you ignored all the advice and got sunburned anyway.
Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) is more than a quirky artifact from the late ’90s, it’s a reminder that wisdom doesn’t always come in rhyme or reason. Sometimes, it arrives in the form of a spoken-word track, a borrowed essay, and a gentle nudge to take care of yourself – inside and out. So, wear sunscreen and if you forget, at least remember to dance.
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