This Month's:

May's theme has been 'Outsiders' - here are a few of our faves...
Boy George was a trail blazer of the 80’s, a revelation for masses of queer young men and women throughout the country who were still in the closet. With a band name that directly referenced the diversity of his group, and a personal image that enticed the audience with its striking androgyny and vividness, he caught both the people’s and the media’s attention.

Of course, it was this media obsession that he came to be more synonymous with as the decades went on and whilst I can’t remember the exact headlines, I do remember the feeling that I was being told that this was a bad man. It was an idea that clashed with the picture in my head of that beautiful guy from the cover of my parent’s Culture Club vinyl’s, whose songs and voice made an eight year old girl extremely happy. 

But the reason he wins a highly contended place on Heaux Culture’s ‘This Month’ list, is his importance to my mum. Moving from the West Indies when she was eighteen, she was slapped in the face by the contrast of her life in the UK to her original home. 

As a child, if the subject of Boy George ever arose, or one of his songs came on the radio, she would begin her well rehearsed speech on his eloquence and strength, how she’d always been impressed and comforted by how he and his fans rejoiced in the opposition of the norm. He essentially made a young and fresh immigrant feel safer and more robust in what was to become her permanent home, and for that, he’s what academics term: a babe. 

“If you go back to the beginning, part of my whole plan was to create this universal family of disenfranchised people. It wasn’t just about sexuality; it was about anyone who felt odd.”


Tilda Swinton is one of those wonderfully weird actresses that have somehow managed to stake their place is the formulaic bore that is Hollywood. That isn't to say that T-Swizz can't act, by God she can, it's just that she seems to dot the 'T's and cross the 'I's of A-list etiquette. Tilda basically doesn't give a shit about to conforming to the preened china doll ideal perpetuated by the business - she'll say what she thinks, she'll choose unexpected projects and she'll wear whatever the hell she wants - and I love her for it.

Oh the Oscars are rolling around, you say? Nah I don't feel like wearing make-up tonight...and when I win, I'll manage to work George Clooney's nipples into the acceptance speech. 


How best to celebrate the life of long-time fan (and friend) Roger Ebert?  Guess it's time to whip out the Barry White and lead a dance tribute.


I want to dabble in perfomance art...MoMA do you have a glass box I can sleep in?


Tilda has also been the muse for the 2003 Victor & Rolf Autumn/Winter line; amongst other languages, has learnt Italian and Russian for a film she and a friend worked on for eleven years (I am Love), she's even fit in being a mother to twins. 


My earliest film memory of Tilda is being wholly disturbed by her character Sal in The Beach (2000) starring Lovely Leo. I didn't really understand the film but I remember being taken aback by how much Sal unnerved me. Back then I would have said I didn't like Tilda Swinton, because how much her character had freaked me out so much that SURELY she couldn't be normal herself. Well I was half right, Tilda is by no means 'normal' - she is a phenomenal actress. Her nuanced performance in We Need To Talk About Kevin alongside the equally promising Ezra Miller almost single-handedly convinced me that there was no way in hell that I was ever going to become a mother. This is the power of Ms. Swinton's acting. You never know what you're going to get with Tilda; she's unpredictable and effortlessly cool - a few months ago she was starred alongside fellow androgynous icons/mates Andrej Pejić and David Bowie in his music video The Stars (Are Out Tonight), who knows what she'll do next? One thing is for certain, I'll be waiting to see it. 


John Wilmot, better known as the Second Earl of Rochester (1642-1680) was quite a guy. He embodied the licentiousness of King Charles II’s reign, when the court was overtaken by a raunchiness that compensated massively for the dry, dry years of Puritan England.

He led an eventful 33 years of life; famous for his drinking, womanising and writing, him being the enigma upon whom the term Libertine was created. Instead of giving a history lesson, I’ll just suggest that for a pretty historically inaccurate but Johnny Depp filled portrayal of the Earl’s life, see The Libertine.

Instead here’s an extract from one of his poem’s to give you an idea of why his wit and writing was and still is so applauded; the words of a man who constantly waved two fingers at anything and anyone that tried to tell him what to do, even if you were the King of England.

Extract taken from The Imperfect Enjoyment

Her nimble tongue, love’s lesser lightning, played
Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul, sprung with the pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o’er her balmy brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid raptures I dissolve all o’er,
Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore.
A touch from any part of her had done ’t:
Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt.


Illustrations by Tamara-Jade Kaz