Tears of a Clown: The Trixie Mattel Story

RuPaul’s Drag Race is perhaps the most convincing argument for owning a television.  Drag Race is a reliably entertaining program but its greatest service to humanity is its yearly introduction of fabulous new entertainers who would otherwise be ignored by the mainstream media.   Each year Drag Race presents us with an intriguing mix of the extremely glamorous and the mentally ill.  The illustrious lineup of RuPaul’s Drag Race is generally comprised of a steady stream of washed up reality stars and amateur porn stars, but this season they gave us sometime truly special.  I refer to none other than the supreme ingénue of The Cream City, Miss Trixie Mattel.  Behold:

For those who don’t know, Trixie Mattel is a drag vixen, a comic, a supermodel and the world’s whitest Indian.  Trixie is acclaimed for all her talents, but she is perhaps most revered for her masterful visual artistry.  Trixie Mattel is essentially the aborted aesthetic lovechild of Lisa Frank and Bozo the Clown.  We’ll never know if Bozo ever discovered the erotic allure of cross dressing, but if he ever did, chances are he would sport a very close resemblance to Trixie Mattel.

The artistry of Trixie Mattel is so great that it defies classification.  It’s hard to pin her down.  I could say that Trixie resembles a partially deflated heat damaged blow up doll, but that doesn’t quite encapsulate her powdered, pulpy essence.  I could say the she resembles a My Size Barbie doll that’s been weathered by the elements, but I’m still not quite there.  I could even go so far as to proclaim that she is the realization of Tim Curry in It as styled by Betsey Johnson, but that still doesn’t quite nail it.  Words can’t do Trixie justice.  You simply have to experience Trixie Mattel firsthand.  It’s a terrifying spectacle but one that you’ll never forget.

I thank RuPaul for finding it in her infinite wisdom to introduce Miss Mattel to the masses.  The world needs Trixie Mattel.  Not since Monique Alan have I witnessed someone so completely devoted to the pursuit of glamor.  We live in a world soaked past saturation in pretty and it’s nauseating.  Our culture is drowning in Kardashian cute, Katy Perry pretty, Taylor Swift fluff… and it’s totally gross.  The tropes of contemporary fashion do nothing to move my spirit, although they regularly move my bowels.

Trixie Mattel represents pure, unbridled glamor and we should revere her for all that she does.  What’s more, Trixie doesn’t merely titillate, she teaches.  Her coloring book, available for free at www.TrixieMattel.com, is an invaluable tool in educating small children about the glories of transvestism.  Furthermore the stylistic sample set by Miss Mattel can elevate anyone’s fashion game.  Trixie shows us that one’s lips can never be too big, nor their ass too padded, and her fearless use of fascinators is the most inspired use of a headpiece since Aretha Franklin’s iconic headpiece at Obama’s 2009 inauguration.

It would seem that Trixie Mattel has lead us to a new stylistic golden age yet suddenly, a mere four weeks after discovering her, tragedy struck.  Somehow, someway, in some terrifying alternate reality, RuPaul saw fit to send Trixie Mattel home after her 4th week on Drag Race.  This is incomprehensible given her awe inspiring artistry.  We can only imagine how Trixie feels about being defeating in a lipsync battle by a partially sedated woman in a shapeless onesie, but the sting of rejection will not be soon forgotten by her legions of fans.  The twittersphere was quick to declare its outrage, with the hashtag #JusticeForTrixie blowing up the twitter feeds of homosexuals the world over.  I fear that this outrage will burn out and fade away all too quickly.  We must hang on to our anger and never let it go.  I believe it was Edmund Burke who said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of busted drag is for good queens to do nothing.  If you are a true student of glamor, I implore you, grab your pitchfork and flaming torch and storm the offices of Logo TV.  Let them know that we demand vengeance.  We demand justice.  We demand Trixie.

If you’ve ever been scorned for your fashion principles, Trixie knows your pain.  For those that have been mocked for wearing that extra coat of lip gloss, that extra set of falsies, or half a couch worth of padding, Trixie is your redemption.  She represents victory over a sad, drab society.  Following Miss Mattel’s example, we will be lead not into trendy temptation, and delivered from busted evil.  Trixie, show us the way.

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