“Frenchwomen with penises.” That’s how Simon Doonan characterizes gay men. This morning at a breakfast to launch his new book, Gay Men Don’t Get Fat (Blue Rider Press), a retaliation to the French bestseller, the Barneys Creative Ambassador-at-Large said women should “ditch the frogs and follow the gays.”
Dressed in a trademark floral shirt and a skinny tie, Doonan told a room-full of fashion bloggers, over oddly large bowls of berries, that we (meaning: women) should look to the “poufters” for guidance on style, food, and pretty much everything else.
Dressed in a trademark floral shirt and a skinny tie, Doonan told a room-full of fashion bloggers, over oddly large bowls of berries, that we (meaning: women) should look to the “poufters” for guidance on style, food, and pretty much everything else.
“If I were a chick, I would have a velvet entourage.” In case you don’t know what a “velvet entourage” is—I didn’t—it’s a synonym for gay men; Doonan has a lot of those synonyms. His point? The “gays” have the originality and insight of social outsiders. They live with fearless bravado with a bit of panache thrown in. And more to the point: they are the “bloodhounds of fashion.” (The analogies go on longer than a Barbra Streisand concert.) Here, a few highlights from his book, and oh, there are so very many:
On prissiness: “Whether scraping my bathroom cabinet, or fragrancing my undies drawer with Sables by Annick Goutal, I see prissiness as a life-enhancing force. This is doubly true for you chicks … Mommie Dearest was right. There is nothing great about hanging an organdy party dress on a wire hangar. No wire hangars! Ever!”
On child pageants: “Whenever I watch a child beauty pageant—it happens more often than I care to admit—I am always impressed by the up-an’-at-‘em spirit exhibited by those bejeweled munchkins. Yes, I realize that my opinions on this subject are utterly unacceptable … A child-pageant childhood develops skills which are strong indicators of future professional success. This small community may not produce a ton of Nobel Prize winners, but neither is it producing toothless crack hos and glue huffers.”
On moobs: “The mooblessness of gay men is entirely and utterly and simply attributable to their gym addiction. Straight guys, with the exception of the Guido Steroid Gorilla genre, rarely share this addiction … How can Mr. Straight Stuff develop this kind of jolly, kicky attitude toward his gym? How might we get him to the point where he pops in, à la Cheers, and finds a place where everyone actually knows his stupid name? There is only one way: start serving alcohol.”
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