Figure skater Weir evokes lost era of glam

When American figure skater Johnny Weir glides onto the ice, people discuss more than his triple axel.

Yes, it’s not easy to ignore his outlandish costumes and rocky relationship with People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals because of his very public love of fur. But larger and louder than both of those is the endless, media-driven dialogue on Weir’s sexuality.

Weir, a three-time U.S. National Champion, has been the most compelling, electrifying and controversial athlete competing at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics — and mostly by default. NBC provided minimal on-air coverage of Weir leading up to the men’s figure skating events last week, excluding him from the heartfelt, tell-all segments the channel produced for fellow skaters Evan Lysacek and Jeremy Abbott. The NBC commentators, too, were restrained when speaking of Weir prior and during the events, treating the skilled skater as a peripheral member of the Olympic community.

Yet that didn’t stop Weir from making the pre-competition news more frequently than gold medalist Lysacek, whether it was about his beautiful-yet-underscored free skate, bedazzled corset or his unapologetic flamboyance and the continual taunts he receives for it.

This self-defined “pop star on ice” is a rare breed of performer in today’s world, even among those currently heralded as musical pop stars. Certainly numerous female musicians bare as much chest as Weir, but very few males swing the sexuality pendulum as much as he does.

Weir’s glitzy, unabashed bravado is not only akin to his idol and kindred spirit Lady Gaga but also many of rock’s top-tier performers from the days where drag queens in the East Village weren’t the only men parading around in shimmering paint.

In the early ’70s, a subgenre of rock music developed in the United Kingdom as a backlash to the scruffy hippie movement. Lead by the extravagant David Bowie, the appropriately titled glam rock was quickly characterized by stylized performances, outrageous outfits and gender-defying makeup.

This audacious trend that danced on the fringes of homosexuality inspired numerous American rock musicians, some of whom were already waist-deep in misogyny-dominated American rock ‘n’ roll.

Before a show in the early ’70s, The Stooges’ frontman Iggy Pop decided to shave off his eyebrows, slather Johnson’s Baby Oil onto his face and give himself a glitter beauty treatment. He performed splits and pelvic thrusts while topless and sported crotch-highlighting pants that have become his trademark.

But alas, something changed in the 1980s, and the aforementioned sexually open-minded musicians retracted their previous, homosexual-leaning statements.

As conservatism took hold and the first traces of the AIDS epidemic emerged, it became clear the tide had changed. Although hypersexual female musicians flourished toward the latter end of the decade, many male musicians became entrapped in rock’s alpha-male machismo.

Although it was once deemed OK for male rock stars to perform outrageous theatrics on stage, most played it cool: strumming guitars in plain T-shirts with deadpan faces. And while Bowie and Iggy were once looked at as visionaries, their larger-than-music, glitter-veiled performances are now seen as kitsch.

Perhaps it was the growing fear that Bowie’s theatrical (Ziggy Stardust) alter-ego was merely novelty over substance that convinced him to return a part of himself to the closet, lessen the eye makeup and marry a woman. And while Iggy still performs shirtless (but with a tad less glitter), a question mark still hovers over his sexual orientation.

Likewise, Weir is discreet when asked about his sexuality.

“There are some things I keep sacred,” Weir told the New York Times in 2008. “My middle name, who I sleep with and what kind of hand moisturizer I use.”

But despite his attempted secrecy, Weir’s blatant underscoring, apparent to even those with an untrained figure skating eye, further reinforces the notion that a heterosexual image is not only prized but a trait one must possess in order to be taken seriously in the public sphere.

Weir might not become the most decorated figure skater in history, but his exhilarating programs will continue to garner standing ovations and crowns of roses.

As he told reporters after arguably his best free skate last Thursday, “I have all my role models out there … judging by the audience reaction at the beginning of my program and at the end they go on my journeys with me.”

Glam or no glam, it’s clear wherever Johnny Weir goes, lights, cameras and his fans will follow.

Lauren Barbato is a senior majoring in writing for screen and television. Her column “Sound Check” runs Tuesdays.