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When you see a fantastic colour or cut in a magazine, perched up on some famous so-and-so’s head, it’s tempting to ask your stylist for the same, but do not be fooled. The hair in those fancy photos can be very high maintenance.
I don’t feel famous and I didn’t want my autobiography to be like a Paris Hilton story.
My dad liked to boil a squirrel head and suck the brains out the nose. Smaller than a chicken, bigger than a rat.
For my group of friends is Lady Gaga eye-opening? No. She’s a less dangerous version of what was so cool about pop culture in the ’80s. Back then it was so gay and so punk in so many ways.
All this fashion stuff – who’s cool now – is just a bigger version of the cool kids versus the nerds.
I think it’s really cool that there are people like Adele on the cover of ‘Vogue’ and ‘Rolling Stone,’ and like I think it’s really important that people are talking about your body, because if they don’t, then you’ll never be able to break that barrier.
Thanks to capitalism, the importance placed on beauty has never been so manipulated. We are the guinea pigs force-fed ads that tell us how pathetic we are: that we will never be loved, happy or valuable unless we have the body, the face, the hair, even the personality that will apparently be ours, if only we buy their products.
I thought to be feminine was to give in to straight culture, or the beauty standard, but in my heart I had a flair for fashion and style. They were passions I kept secret because I didn’t understand I could love clothes and hair and makeup and still like girls.