Gay Man Don’t Get Fat } 'Simon Doonan'
Simon Doonan is an amuse-bouche of a fellow - slight in stature but surprisingly satisfying once consumed. His deliciously mischievous wit is an ideal serving size of cheek. Also, as Doonan would probably argue, an amuse-bouche is the perfect serving size for a gay gentleman’s meal.
Doonan is the David Sedaris of the style universe: a self-deprecating, effete window dresser from Barneys New York who dons fabulous floral blouses and totes an oversize, monogrammed Goyard messenger bag stuffed with life stories. Born into a family even more gleefully deranged than those of Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs combined, he not only embraces that craziness, but also playfully emphasizes his grown-up nancy-boy persona with the unrelenting force of a tornado blowing through Oz.
For fans of Doonan’s previous books, “Wacky Chicks’’ and “Beautiful People,’’ it will come as no surprise to hear that “Gay Men Don’t Get Fat’’ is not a self-help diet book along the lines of Mireille Guiliano’s 2004 book, “French Women Don’t Get Fat.’’ He does, however, brazenly step into the ring to challenge Guiliano’s assertion of French femme superiority. He asserts that French women simply can’t compete with gay men when it comes to matters of taste. He strongly argues that despite
similar attitudes and airs, gay men are more than French women with an additional appendage.
“If you want the skinny on style, then ditch the diluted frogs and follow the gays,’’ says Doonan, who has no qualms about offending anyone standing in his sashaying way. “We, not the Françoises and Solanges, are the true oracles. We are the chosen people. We, and only we, know how to enhance your tawdry, lackluster lives.’’
Doonan does offer advice, but this is sandwiched in cashmere-rich tales of his own history. He doesn’t linger on dietary suggestions, just enough to note the differences in eating habits between straight and gay gents. At an all-heterosexual barbecue where the only designer duds to be seen were an ocean of Tommy Bahama, Doonan had to restrain himself from screaming, “Stop it, girls! Just stop it’’ as the tropically attired slubberdegullions emptied calorie-laden bowls of guacamole.
Regardless of how sharp Doonan’s words appear, his observations are never more than fun raillery. He’s part of the joke - and often the butt of it. Doonan fully understands the ridiculousness of the topics he’s addressing or the advice he’s dispensing. Although one hopes that he is serious as he tells readers that if they are “working in a bank or a Hertz Rent-a-Car office’’ his long list of must-watch gay films and gay cultural references “will add a little je ne sais quoi to the je ne veux pas of your otherwise mind-numbingly tedious lives.’’
“Gay Men Don’t Get Fat’’ is a celebration of the prissy, the nellie, and the dainty. These are qualities that are often derided in men - both straight and gay. But Doonan’s compendious essays on the merits of these qualities are breezy and effortless, not defensive or snippy. Reading the book is a bit like sitting beside the ghost of the late Quentin Crisp, if said ghost were a bit tidier, displayed a penchant for referring to everyone by the name Mary, and was more Charles Nelson Riley than Maggie Smith.
A chapter on moobs (that’s man boobs for the uninitiated) should be a tip-off to the book’s penchant for all things frivolous. But Doonan’s silliness is a delight. This is not a rote throwback to the “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’’ advice of yore. There’s no dumbing down for the booboisie. In Doonan’s world, we’re all bright, but we can all still use a bit more fabulous in our lives.
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