James Franco is the gayest thing in heels right now, folks. Even if he’s really straight (and I don’t even think he knows any more at this point, God bless him — I think he’s just sleep-deprived), he’s delivering more diva and major gender-bendy drama than I’ve seen served in a while. Attagirl!
Big props to Candy Magazine (which I live for and wrote about last year) and Terry Richardson for capturing this. The lips! The eyebrows. The chunky jewels. The snarly pout and the perfect shrug. The Marianne-Faithfull-meets-an-extra-from-The Damned vibe is thrilling me.
Franco’s a hot mess, but a benevolent, fabulous, complicated, friendly one in these crazy knee-jerky gay-baiting times.
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