So, another Eurovision has been and gone, and the doppelganger of Rylan
Clark in a dress had an equally loquacious reaction to being told that her
country Austria had won the crown. And so
begins the rise of Conchita Wurst, the bearded lady. And in all the 45 countries the estimated 180
million viewers who watched the show were asking, ‘Who is Conchita Wurst?’ It was a fairytale ending to a very much fabricated
story.
You couldn't make it up. Or could you? You see, Conchita Wurst is a fictional character – a stage presence if
you will. A persona formed and created
by Tom Neuwirth, a shop window decorator who after coming 6th in 2007
in a singing competition called Starmania, decided to reinvent himself and try
for Eurovision. And this entailed having a unique look, and dressing as a
woman. But a woman with a beard.
There is something very odd about a woman with facial hair –even if you
know that she isn’t a woman. As Western women we spend so much time on
epilating, waxing or shaving, or undergoing the more medical routes of
electrolysis or hormone tablets, that we kind of feel cheated in seeing a woman
sporting full facial hair and people love it.
By the same token, we would expect nothing less of the Eurovision song
contest. It’s always had the oddballs,
and we love it. In this year alone we
had a human hamster wheel, the obligatory tornado that plays havoc with the
contestants hairpieces, an ice rink, a trampoline, a whistling folk rock band
and some rather eye catching outfits (some of which were barely there much to
the joy of all the husbands who had been forced by their wives to sit through
several hours of varying standards of pop songs).
And of course, the highlight of Eurovision has always been the
voting. There we get to see the
representatives of all of the participants, and predict who is going to vote
for who (it never changes, and is more indicative of politics than any EU
conference round up I have ever seen on the telly). And like any good TV talent
show, it’s not necessarily about the best song, or the best act, or even the
best singer. It’s about who appeals at
the time.
Off the top of my head I can probably reel off five or six Eurovision
winners. And their names. Other than that it’s just ‘Whatever happened
to that bloke from Ireland that won it twice?’ Or ‘How old do you think the
woman is now who sang ‘99 red balloons’?’
You see, the beauty of Eurovision is that it’s a moment in time in which
this madness takes over – poor countries suddenly spring for expensive gowns
and special effects, we are all Googling San Marino because no one knows where
it is, beautiful presenters amaze us with their multilingual talents, Graham
Norton’s narrating ramps and camps onwards and upwards to a crescendo, and a
bearded lady sings.
So when Conchita Wurst said, on accepting her prize ‘We are unity… and
we are unstoppable!’ it was pretty much spot on. Of the moment.
Until the next time.
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