Never one to bandy about certain terms loosely, I have been careful to minimize my use of one particular term… The A-List. One must go through hoops to become a member of the fabulii. It is not for the faint of heart. Clawing ones way up the ladder, be it in Hollywood or marrying into Royalty, the fact remains, there are very few ways to achieve such status. There are those certain editrixes such as Anna Wintour, Grace Coddington and Arianna Huffington that are there for life. And boy did Arianna fight her way up that ladder. You gotta hand it to her though. When you sit down and are forced to make an A-List, be it for invitations to a major event or who to consider for an ad campaign, suddenly that list is trimmed down to a choice, select, stunning few. (With the exception of the occasional meiskeit*, thanks to the success of Boardwalk Empire.)
Today’s New York Times Style section has a piece on the Logo reality show The A-List, and never has their been a bigger oxymoron in that these girls are in fact on a list. It’s just that the list itself is just a list, not an A-List, per se. The Times does not consider these boys real A-Listers, but what we learn in the article is that these queens actually do think of themselves in that way. Them AND the new cast member, that hair extension maven who is all sorts of The Bronx. We can only show compassion for those who are so misguided. The A-List gives vanilla queens their moment to strut like peacocks and show the world the two-dimensional aspect of gay culture. Sorry kids, but going to a disco does not make you “A-List”. Like the Real Housewives of New York or Orange County, this lot is loud and pushy like those people that you see out socially and avoid. In this case we get to see the underbelly, rather, the chiseled 6-pack underbelly of New York gay socialistas. For someone who did what they are doing now back in my youth at Studio 54, I look at the places they go to and conversations they have and go tsk-tsk.
(* Meiskeit – An unattractive person in Yiddish)