See Ya – Wouldn’t Want to Be Ya
Pride London had the full backing of the liberal-left establishment this year. The post-march festival was held in central London for the first time. The car bombs and the constant rain kept the crowds away. The politically correct stalls and entertainment scared off the party boys (the glamour boyz bunkered down in Soho). The only people left in Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square were lots of bemused tourists and the sort of people Diane Arbus liked to photograph (God bless them).
I arranged to meet TP in the National Portrait Gallery. TP was late so I wandered round the Tudor galleries (16th Century) and the excellent BP Portrait Award exhibition. The art on display in the NPG was everything Pride was not â€“ soulful, profound and sophisticated.
Of course, Pride is simply gay pop culture. Itâ€™s no more or less trashy than straight pop culture. This yearâ€™s festival was slightly different insofar as political activists dominated the planning committee (hence the 911 conspiricy stall above) but it was mostly the same old tacky gay nonsense.
Later in the day, I dragged TP through Soho to find out where all the buff guys had gone. On the way to Soho Square (which was party boy central) we stopped off at the Catholic Church of Notre Dame de France. I left the church thinking, “Goodbye gay world. It’s over.”
It might sound clichÃ©d but it’s true. We left “gay” behind because we grew up.