The 'Daddy' of the Metrosexual, the Retrosexual, & spawner of the Spornosexual

Johnny Does Gaga

I’ll admit to being more or less criminally ignorant of Mr Weir before I saw this clip of his interpretation of ‘Poker Face’ last year.

I also know very little about ice skating, but I know one thing: this isn’t ice skating.  This is energetically sliding around in a kinky catsuit while shimmying and gesturing and pulling coquettish faces, and generally flickering around the ice like a low blue flambé.  And I’m all for it.  I don’t know about you but it brought me out in goose-pimples.  Even better than the climax to Baz Luhrman’s best film Strictly Ballroom, not least because unlike the protagonist of that film Weir doesn’t have to pretend he’s dancing with anyone else but himself.

It’s like watching a humbling evolutionary leap of the human species and the vindictive triumph of an impossible seven-year-old’s desire to make everyone look at them at the wedding reception disco – all combined in one glittery package.  Seldom have skater and soundtrack been better matched.  In fact, it deserves a (possibly) new noun.  This is… Gagacity.

I think this kind of performance shows what fearsome things today’s generation of young men are capable of.  Flamboyance can be a very powerful, very liberating quality and doesn’t have to be something just for flamers.  Or Lady G.

I wish I were capable of it.  But I I’d probably have to have Weir’s figure, not to mention his youth, to pull it off.  That and a hefty pair of cojones.