I tell the Queer Eye guys everything: from politics to dresses, they have the answers

I believe these men can fix me, and that is not something Ive thought about anyone from reality TV, ever

Summer of sport this may well be- World Cup to the left of you, Wimbledon to the right- but I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really noticed. And I’ll be even more honest, the day England played Panama and 99.9% or whatever of the British public was watching the game, I was the 0.1% who was not- the defiant resister, the rebel without much of a cause. And it’s not because I was busy carpe-ing the freak out of the diem, skipping through the streets like a woman advertising panty liners in the 1990 s. No, I was up in my bedroom watching the new series of Queer Eye.

Articles about the joyousness of Netflix’s reboot, in which five lesbian men with different specialisms dedicate a life and style makeover to someone in dire need, are so numerous they have become a journalistic genre unto themselves. When the first series came out earlier this year, I myself constructed lofty asserts about how the show is” what our epoch needs “. I probably even suggested it was the anti-Trump show, knowing me. But as I sit in my darkened room, curtains closed against the sun, bent over my iPad, waiting for another made- merely one!- of Tan convincing some pot-bellied American papa to swap his baggy sweatshirt for a fitted polo in a colour” that pops”, I’ve had to accept that my preoccupation has nothing to do with the world and everything to do with me.

The normal stream of consciousness that kinds the muzak in my head (” 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 fancy some cheese “) has been entirely replaced with imaginary conversations with the men from Queer Eye. On some deep buried, unexpected and highly needy level, I believe these men can fix me, and that is not something I’ve thought about anyone from reality TV, ever. And this is because the men from Queer Eye seem( remarkably) genuinely talented, and come across( uniquely for reality TV) as funny and wise and lovely.( The obvious exception to this is Antoni, the nominal cook of the demonstrate, who is lovely to look at but I strongly suspect doesn’t even know how to turn on a stove .) This is what we talk about ๐Ÿ˜› TAGEND

Tan( way)
Tan is the easiest-going eye, which is why I suspect he is the most liked within the group.( Go on, ask students who on the show is really friends with who. I have opinions !) I talk to Tan about how sometimes I buy clothes not because I like them, but because I think they’re the sort of thing people expect me to wear, although there is I know everyone is too busy thinking about their own lives are concerned about my gowns. So do I guess my defining feature is my wardrobe because I lack 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 are currently in constant contact this summer. He reminds me that a room has to be practical and can’t simply be about fun wallpaper, and that there is a fine line between a room that says,” This woman stimulates bold, stylish statements !” and” This woman probably maintains dried pampas grass in a giant Chinese urn .” I tell Bobby that, even though he is the least charismatic cast member, I know he works the hardest, and while all Karamo has to do is give pep talks in a vehicle, Bobby has to carry literal roofs on his literal back. He seems down, touched, and tells me he appreciates that.

Jonathan( grooming)
Jonathan and I talk a lot about politics. I tell him how righteous it was when he shot Antoni down in a recent interview, after Antoni indicated 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 transgressing your back to accommodate haters, and fight for your truth instead .” As Jonathan would say, Y as queen .

But I also talk to Jonathan about my hair. I tell him that most of it fell out as a adolescent, due to anorexia, and never grew back properly, and while most online comments don’t bother me, when people snark about my hair I have- piling disgrace upon disgrace- cried. Jonathan tells me I’m fabulous and those people are the literal worst, and he is right.

Karamo ( culture , whatever that means)
I think of Karamo as a constant, messianic, ridiculously handsome presence in my life, 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 rolls his eyes when I drunkenly eat an entire birthday cake in front of an episode of Frasier I’ve seen four times at 2am.

Antoni( food)
I never talk to Antoni.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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