JO ELVIN’S NOTEBOOK: Who knew I’d become a gay icon with butch vibes?
There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.’ I’ve been leaning heavily on that famous Oscar Wilde quote over the past week after my daughter revealed that she and her friends have been discussing me on their WhatsApp group chat.
Why? One of the teenage wags proclaimed me a ‘lesbian style icon’. Something to do with my very short hair and penchant for colourful jumpsuits, apparently.
Lesbians, style and icons are all great. But there’s not much cross-over with me and any of them. I mean, when I think ‘lesbian style icon’, I think of people such as the coolly beautiful Spencer actress Kristen Stewart. A 52-year-old mother, married to a man, who buys her bell-bottomed dungarees from Zara? Not so much.
David Beckham, pictured, has worn his ‘gay icon’ status with pride for many years, milking his metrosexuality – flogging fashion, fragrance and gracing many covers of gay magazines – to the tune of millions. Maybe now really is my time to shine
But hey, if it’s good enough for married father-of-four David Beckham, who’s worn his ‘gay icon’ status with pride for years, it’s good enough for me. The man’s milked his metrosexuality – flogging fashion, fragrance and gracing many covers of gay magazines – to the tune of millions. Maybe now really is my time to shine.
As luck would have it, last week I got the chance to seek certification from a bona fide, world-famous expert in all things queer: Jonathan Van Ness. One of the stars of Netflix’s phenomenally successful show Queer Eye, Jonathan was in town to launch JVN, his eponymous haircare range. The TV show’s resident hairdresser and grooming expert has, since 2019, identified as non-binary, and is happy with he, she or they pronouns.
On this occasion, they were their usual six feet of pure fabulousness; burly, bearded and resplendent in a Norma Komali silk slip dress and killer heels.
Over steak and roast potatoes, I couldn’t resist cajoling the whole table into laughing at my supposed ‘lesbian style icon’ status.
‘OK, here’s my take,’ said Jonathan. The room fell silent as he gave me that laser-focused once-over I know so well from my Queer Eye binge-watching.
‘You’re definitely totally femme in my eyes, for sure. But you do give off some… I’m gonna say soft butch vibes.’
I burst out laughing. And then I gave him a big butch punch in the face. No, I’m kidding.
‘Lesbian style icon with soft butch vibes’ is going straight on my CV. And if someone could arrange for it to be on my headstone, that would be pretty great too, thanks.
Polo-neck Matt’s a fashion killer
Earlier last week, I read with a sinking, horrified heart that polo necks for men are back on the fashion radar. This is bleak news indeed for anyone who has eyes. I’m sorry guys, but there is something really, unpleasantly phallic about a middle-aged head popping up through chunky fabric clinging unflatteringly to your neck folds. Especially if that middle-aged head is also balding.
It’s also telling that when I Googled the trend, one of the first hits was an article entitled: ‘How to wear a polo neck without looking like an idiot.’ (The last man who managed it, to my eyes, was Steve McQueen.) But it turns out there was no need to panic because who should pop up, so to speak, and instantly annihilate the polo-neck market all over again? Matt Hancock. Yes, the former Health Secretary slithered into the hot seat on Steven Bartlett’s hit podcast Diary Of A CEO.
I’ll be honest, I haven’t listened to the interview because from what my friends tell me, I’ll turn inside-out from cringing. But somehow I failed to avoid the accompanying video of Matt in a polo neck.
One can only assume he was going for that ‘visionary maverick’ vibe, the trademark look of the late Apple founder Steve Jobs.
But with Steve sadly no longer with us, I’d politely suggest that you don’t really want to share any common interests with the likes of some other famous polo-neck fans – namely, one Vladimir Putin.
BBC was crazy to ditch TikTok Vic
My daughter is nearly 17 and currently very engaged with her A-Level politics studies. This has been quite the turn of events because – and I’m sure she won’t mind me saying this – she’s not exactly passionate about schoolwork.
Unsurprisingly for someone her age, one of her primary sources of news is the social-media giant TikTok. But what has surprised me is that her favourite TikTokker is Victoria Derbyshire.
‘She’s quick, informative and to the point,’ my daughter says – which, let’s face it, is how all impatient and ‘concentration-challenged’ Gen Z-ers like their content.
The BBC were crazy to axe Victoria Derbyshire’s award-winning news show
But I think my daughter also likes Victoria’s authoritative and measured delivery. When I forwarded the compliment to the woman herself, she said she loves using TikTok because its short video format demands that you keep the information clear, straightforward and calm.
‘There’s a huge appetite for this stuff on TikTok,’ says Victoria. ‘People tell me they don’t understand other sources.’
It’s clear from the unbearable scenes being streamed via TikTok from Ukraine that, in 2022, this is no peripheral, ‘alternative’ news source. The fact that Victoria, 53, and a mainstream media journalist, is at the forefront of understanding this just shows yet again what a crazy decision it was for the BBC to axe her award-winning news show.
Hamlet has nothing on my valiant man
What would you do for love? Georgia Tennant, as in wife of actor David Tennant, has revealed that she wooed him by watching him on stage in Hamlet a staggering 27 times. ‘I put the work in,’ she told the Mirror.
Yeah, that’s a lot of Hamlet to handle, but I’m sure the incredibly handsome David was mesmerising every single time.
The ‘work’ my now husband of 22 years put in wasn’t as involved but I’d argue even more valiant.
What would you do for love? Georgia Tennant, as in wife of actor David Tennant, has revealed that she wooed him by watching him on stage in Hamlet a staggering 27 times. ‘I put the work in,’ she told the Mirror
We’d been dating for about two months when I fell ill with the worst flu I’ve ever had. When I begged him not to come anywhere near me in my hideous snotty state, he turned up anyway with a full arsenal of medicines, chicken soup and DVDs (it was the 1990s).
If someone can cuddle you on the couch when you’re looking your absolute worst, that’s love. I was smitten.
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