AKA William

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Because the old school gay is fast becoming the new modern man, AKA William theater contributor Ben Rimalower will, every Thursday, document exactly how, when, and where everything old becomes new again.

Straddling the line between old school showbiz cheesiness and contemporary short attention span whateverness, Ben is the New Old Gay. He loves Patti LuPone.

[Ed.: Because the site upgrades were being implemented over the past few days, this week's "The New Old Gay" was moved to today, Friday.]

Wednesday night, I saw Justin Bond’s brilliant concert at the Highline Ballroom. He sang his face off, though still managing to look fiercely like Julie Andrews’ head on Madonna’s body in a David Bowie/She-Ra Princess of Power costume until the near-end of the show when he left musical director Our Lady J alone onstage for a solo number before returning to the stage in a hot, hot, hot Betty Rubble as Liza Minnelli dress for the final songs.

Discussion of these icons as inspiration for more than just fashion, more even than just style, but for substance, actually, was Justin’s theme. He sang and spoke elegant poetry about how we look up to stars. I think about this a lot as I read around the internet everyday, a good deal of the time to follow my various and sundry celebrity obsessions and fascinations. Since the rebirth of my interest in Michael Jackson, he has been high up on the list of topics I’ll click anywhere for, alongside my usual Liza and Patti LuPone. To the extent that we emulate our heroes, or at least view our identities in their context, what these people represent to me and the world is not just important, it’s necessary.

Justin Bond, like Michael Jackson in some ways, embodies a kind of whimsical gender-play defying category or classification. Of course, in Justin’s case, this is something he embraces and celebrates, and it is key to the power and integrity of his work and working environment. His collaboration with, almost a mentorship of, Our Lady J, the shimmering trans singer-songwriter behind Justin’s piano is a perfect example of this. Last night Justin called her, “The most glamorous woman on Earth.” With something like a peacock feather daringly perched in her peaches-and-cream pile of platinum hair, effortlessly banging out her dynamite and popular pastiche, “Pink Prada Purse,” piss-elegant and swanky, Our Lady J more than justified the compliment.

I couldn’t help but think back to the boy in a dress, who started subbing for Justin’s regular accompanist a few years ago. Our Lady J was always a virtuosic musician and the work has never been anything but inspired, but this gorgeous lady has flourished as some of Justin’s stage charisma and comfort have clearly rubbed off during this sensitive period of Our Lady J’s increasingly public transition.

In thinking of how Our Lady J has taken inspiration from Justin, although the two divas are at distinctly different places on the gender role continuum, I think about how we are instructed by people who are different than we are. Most gay people are products of this, having been raised by straight parents. I got a little weepy this week, sitting at my day-job when I got an email from my (straight) dad telling me how moved he was by my blog last week about my desire to be a (gay) dad.