On the (F) train to a private collection visit downtown, I stood next to the straight guy from Queer Eye, the rocker with the skank girlfriend (“the one with the hooker boots?” is how a friend remembered her). Net net: it didn’t stick. He looked as dissheveled and style-free as he did at the beginning of his show.
For some people, it turns out, metrosexuality is nothing more than a phase, something they experiment with in college. Or summer camp.
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the making of, by greg allen