I accept these men can secure me, and that is not something Ive was just thinking about anyone from reality TV, ever
Summer of play this may well be- World Cup to the left of you, Wimbledon to the right- but I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really saw. And I’ll be even more honest, the working day England played Panama and 99.9% or whatever of the British public was watching the game, I was the 0.1% “whos not”- the defiant resister, the maverick without much of a cause. And it’s not because I was busy carpe-ing the freak out of the diem, bouncing through wall street like a woman advertising panty liners in the 1990 s. No, I was up in my bedroom watching the brand-new series of Queer Eye.
Articles about the joyousness of Netflix’s reboot, in which five homosexuals husbands with different specialisms give a life and form makeover to someone in grim require, are so numerous they have become a journalistic category unto themselves. When the first sequence came out earlier this year, I myself realise lofty pretensions about how the show is” what our age needs “. I possibly even proposed it was the anti-Trump depict, knowing me. But as I sit in my dark chamber, screens shut against the sunshine, inclination over my iPad, waiting for another thumped- merely one!- of Tan persuasion some pot-bellied American dad to swap his baggy sweatshirt for a fitted polo in a quality” that pops”, I’ve had to accept that my obsession has nothing to do with the world and all is do with me.
The normal stream of consciousness that organizes the muzak in my manager (” Don’t forget the dry-cleaning oh God let there be a seat on the bus should I know more about North Korea mmm quite thoughts some cheese “) has been fully replaced with imaginary conversations with “the mens” from Queer Eye. On some profoundly interred, unexpected and highly indigent stage, I guess these men can secure me, and that is not something I’ve was just thinking about anyone from world Tv, ever. And this is because the men from Queer Eye seem( abnormally) genuinely talented, and come across( uniquely for reality TV) as entertaining and wise and lovely.( The obvious exception to this is Antoni, the nominal chef of the indicate, who is lovely to be addressed but I strongly suspect doesn’t even know how to turn on a stave .) This is what we talk about 😛 TAGEND
Tan is the easiest-going see, which is why I suppose he is the most liked in the working group.( Go on, ask me who on the show is really friends with who. I have minds !) I talk to Tan about how sometimes I buy clothes not because I like them, but because I think they’re these kinds of thought beings expect me to wear, even though I know everyone is too busy “ve been thinking about” their own lives are concerned about my full-dress. So do I suppose my defining feature is my wardrobe because I absence confidence in the actual me? Tan and I talk about this a lot on the bus.
Bobby( interior design)
I am currently doing up my living room, so Bobby and I have been in constant contact this summer. He reminds me that a chamber has to be practical and can’t precisely be about fun wallpaper, and that there is a fine position between a area that says,” This maiden represents bold, stylish evidences !” and” This female likely maintains dried pampas grass in a monstrous Chinese urn .” I tell Bobby that, even though he is the least charismatic shed member, I know “hes working” the more difficult, and while all Karamo has to do is give pep talks in a automobile, Bobby has to carry literal roofs on his literal back. He seems down, touched, and tells me he appreciates that.
Jonathan and I talk a lot about politics. I tell him how righteous it was when he shot Antoni down in a recent interrogation, after Antoni advocated it might be helpful for them to give a makeover to an all-out homophobe. Jonathan replied, in essence,” This is 2018, Antoni, and we don’t have time for your kumbaya politics, so stop divulging your back to accommodate haters, and fight for your truth instead .” As Jonathan would say, Y tush ruler .
But I also talk to Jonathan about my fuzz. I tell him that most of it fell down as a girl, due to anorexia, and never grew back properly, and while most online notes don’t bother me, when people snark about my whisker I have- stack dishonor upon shame- screamed. Jonathan tells me I’m fabulous and those people are the literal worst, and he is right.
Karamo ( culture , whatever that signifies)
I think of Karamo as a constant, messianic, ridiculously handsome existence in “peoples lives”, who gazes upon the choices I make and occasionally calls me out on them. A little like God, yes, but I think of him more like the Patrick Swayze to my Whoopi Goldberg. He’s proud of me when I go to yoga. He benignly wheels his eyes when I drunkenly feed an entire birthday cake in front of an occurrence of Frasier I’ve seen four times at 2am.
I never talk to Antoni.
Read more: www.theguardian.com