To paraphrase Rod Stewart: ‘You may have heard of him, you may not of heard of him but if you haven’t heard of him I really don’t know where you’ve been.’
Well apart from the fact, I do – let’s face it - really know where you’ve been, I am talking of course about the one and only Joe Exotic.
And while he is a terrible person in all sorts of ways - you are a better person than me if you got more than half-way through the first episode without hoping one of his caged animals eats him whole - I have to say I’m quite glad he wasn’t gobbled up or else we wouldn’t have the world’s newest fashion icon.
It was at first, a hard thing to admit that I have never felt such an affinity with someone’s on screen-style in a way that I did with Netflix’s most problematic cowboy but then who can blame me? The silk shirts, the rhinestones, the his and his’ shirts and of course the mullet, all of it he pulled off with panache.
And where he goes, I’ll follow, follow, follow, or so the tune goes.
Go through my internet search history and you’ll be forgiven for thinking I’m planning a trip to Vegas. I’ve already bought a pink sequined t-shirt, scroll through my watch list and you’ll find no less than three embroidered silk shirts (one is turquoise dipdye), a pair of patent white cowboy boots and a leopard print mini skirt.
What started off as an innocent Netflix recommendation has turned into an obsession. A fire burns within me that I am helpless to put out. The more I watch, the more I am fascinated. And what has started off as a pink t-shirt will soon be runaway train. The internet is open for business and I for one am buying a £400 pair of pink love heart earrings – someone needs to stop me.
But then therein lies the problem – due to this self-isolation lark, I find myself in a rather sticky situation – I am living alone with my father. And while he humours me when I flounce down the stairs in a biker jacket and his old pink shirts, I know his seventy-year old heart isn’t really in it.
I usually welcome his unwavering devotion to stopping me tantrum ‘yes, yes darling you look fabulous.’ It is however, in this current crisis, proving unhelpful. But then again when quarantine is done at least I’ll be easy to spot.
When we are finally freed from our government-imposed cages you’ll know how to find me. At the pub, pinot in hand, looking like I’ve spent two years in Texas, swung by GAY Late before hopping on a plane to Berghain when I have, in actual fact, been in a cottage in the Cotswolds.
Written by Katya Edwards