It used to be my one and only holy idol of all times was John Galliano, the charismatic, long-haired Ultra Gay with spray tanned fashion pecks. I cut every single photo of his shows out of the stacks of fashion magazines my mum got me and stuck them on my wall and in my scrapbooks. I thought it all looked "absolutely fabulous!" However, having seen his latest collection on the last Paris fashion week, I found myself just plain saddened and disappointed.
I was not only starting to extremely dislike my former guru, I was also having doubts about my own taste as an 11-year-old. Obviously I had to get that out of the way as soon as possible, so I did a little research to remind myself why, in my pre-pubescent years, I liked his stuff so much. Let’s do this chronologically. Born in 1960, having moved from Gibraltar to London, Mr. Galliano (or Juan Carlos Antonio Galliano Guillén if you will) graduated from Central St. Martins in 1984, with a fabulous collection based on "Les Incroyables."
Then he kind of started doing these, but I could still live with it:
But, would you look at this! Summer 2010:
Fine, 25 years of designing is a long time--I’m sure it’s not always as easy to give the best of yourself every season. But hey, isn’t that why top designers are top designers? Isn’t that where all their fame and mountains of cash comes from? Maybe the recession has infiltrated into John’s Gibraltarian brain. Imagine celebrating your 25th anniversary with this outfit:
I could maybe imagine that this kind of apparel/airbrushed muscles would appeal to our gay fellowmen. Not wanting to leave anything up in the air like that, I immediately called my best friend, who studies fashion (and who coincidentally also happens to be a homosexual) to ask for his opinion. I called him up, made sure he was in front of his computer, then asked him if he was attracted to the following men in a fashionable OR physical way and I sent him the photos above. There was a long silence and then there was this outburst of hysterical, girly but strangely evil laughter. Then it suddenly stopped and he replied in his straightest possible voice: “NO. They look like characters from Streetfighter 32, in a future where gay Guidos hold a monopoly on beauty ideals. Don’t ever send me something like that again. Send me some hot boys next time. OK, I have to go now, see you Saturday!” So, there you have it, John Galliano is officially dead, (to me). Even the gays think so.