Celine!
I am a fan of the queen of beige! This started in the 90s, before My Heart Will Go On. I love French and French pop crooners, particularly those from the 1960s. Celine sings in Quebecois. Every song was a swirling, epic, romantic cliche.
Then there was René. This made no sense, but okay. I watched clips of the wedding - another swirling, epic, romantic cliche. I watched documentaries and snippets of Celine's Vegas shows. Eventually I dubbed her The Queen of Beige. She's often in beige chiffon dresses and custom suits. Sometimes she switches it up with cream. Then she's tanned and bronzed, from the top to toe in luminous shimmer. No one does this dull color palette quite like Queen Celine. She is also relentlessly positive, even in her grief after René passed. Her heart did indeed go on.
' Celine lives there!' I said, excitedly.
' Who's that?' He asked. He was young, born in the 90s.
' Who is Celine?!' I gasped, hand to my chest in dismay.
I bought a t-shirt from an LA goth artist that expresses my ironic love for Celine. It's a satanic image with her name and My Heart Will Go On in a dripping blood font.
The other over-the-top diva I adore-annoy is Barbra. This goes back to my childhood. My folks had People on vinyl mixed with Marvin, Stevie, and The Beatles. At 7 years old, I was fascinated with Babs voice and range. Then I saw a TV screening of Funny Girl, and became obsessed with how chic she was and the clothes (a 1960s interpretation of early 20th century fashion).
Hello, gorgeous!
Into my 1970s kidhood, Barbra exploded into corny camp films, vanilla love songs, and disco. She was the femme equivalent of Barry Manilow. She permed her hair and hooked up with a lot of babes and heads of state of that time and into the 90s. In my teens, she made Yentl, a film with one good showstopper at the end that, as a whole film, has not stood the test of time.
She is a legend for her perfectionism, glam nails, and the nose she refused to modify in her youth, but has since into her twilight years.
And then there is Miss Ross. From Motown to Central Park in the rain. I have loved her for many years. Miss Ross is the original mother. The wigs! The bodysuits! The way she took over that Thierry Mugler show in 1991, into her late 40s. Her greatest camp achievement is the really awful film Mahogany, but she looked fabulous doing it.
My love of these queens cements my identity ( and enduring aesthetic value ) as that of a punk gay man in La Cage aux Folles.
I am a fan of the queen of beige! This started in the 90s, before My Heart Will Go On. I love French and French pop crooners, particularly those from the 1960s. Celine sings in Quebecois. Every song was a swirling, epic, romantic cliche.
Then there was René. This made no sense, but okay. I watched clips of the wedding - another swirling, epic, romantic cliche. I watched documentaries and snippets of Celine's Vegas shows. Eventually I dubbed her The Queen of Beige. She's often in beige chiffon dresses and custom suits. Sometimes she switches it up with cream. Then she's tanned and bronzed, from the top to toe in luminous shimmer. No one does this dull color palette quite like Queen Celine. She is also relentlessly positive, even in her grief after René passed. Her heart did indeed go on.
Celine has a place in Miami on Star Island, which is off the Macarthur Causeway. I passed Star Island with a friend on the way to Miami Beach.
' Celine lives there!' I said, excitedly.
' Who's that?' He asked. He was young, born in the 90s.
' Who is Celine?!' I gasped, hand to my chest in dismay.
I bought a t-shirt from an LA goth artist that expresses my ironic love for Celine. It's a satanic image with her name and My Heart Will Go On in a dripping blood font.
Barbra!
The other over-the-top diva I adore-annoy is Barbra. This goes back to my childhood. My folks had People on vinyl mixed with Marvin, Stevie, and The Beatles. At 7 years old, I was fascinated with Babs voice and range. Then I saw a TV screening of Funny Girl, and became obsessed with how chic she was and the clothes (a 1960s interpretation of early 20th century fashion).
Hello, gorgeous!
Into my 1970s kidhood, Barbra exploded into corny camp films, vanilla love songs, and disco. She was the femme equivalent of Barry Manilow. She permed her hair and hooked up with a lot of babes and heads of state of that time and into the 90s. In my teens, she made Yentl, a film with one good showstopper at the end that, as a whole film, has not stood the test of time.
She is a legend for her perfectionism, glam nails, and the nose she refused to modify in her youth, but has since into her twilight years.
Miss Ross!
And then there is Miss Ross. From Motown to Central Park in the rain. I have loved her for many years. Miss Ross is the original mother. The wigs! The bodysuits! The way she took over that Thierry Mugler show in 1991, into her late 40s. Her greatest camp achievement is the really awful film Mahogany, but she looked fabulous doing it.
She bagged the babes too and had all kinds of mixed kids. I'm also a fan of Tracee daughter, with her wit, natural beauty, and style. Pattern is dope, but expensive at those Ross ass prices. If I buy it at all it's thru eBay for the sample sizes.
My love of these queens cements my identity ( and enduring aesthetic value ) as that of a punk gay man in La Cage aux Folles.
