Eurovision: There's a Reason it's Called Euro-trash

A streaker (center, wearing a red cap and a t-shirt reading “Jimmy Jump”) appears on stage as Spain’s Daniel Diges performs. (Photo credit: DANIEL SANNUM LAUTEN/AFP/Getty Images)

So last Saturday I put on my sparkliest pair of pink hot pants, paid a cab with a three dollar bill and sat under a tree full of parrots in the gayest celebration ever.  Truly, it was fabulous in only a way that Cher and Barry are — I went to a party for the Eurovision song contest at my friend Ben Widdicombe’s apartment.  I was pretty much one of the only Americans in that apartment. There was Silka, the German, Caroline, the Dutch woman, a Norwegian man — who was once a contestant in the competition for a song called “Mr. Pitbull” (he was the resident celebrity, as last year he actually styled the Norwegian singer who won the whole damned thing). His boyfriend brought a huge rubber dildo as a party favor — it smelled like a Strawberry Shortcake doll. A gaggle of Australians and a Brit rounded out the crowd.

For those of you who are unaware of the fabulosity of Eurovision — it’s kind of the precursor to American Idol but with all the countries in Europe competing for the most original song. In the worst outfits. You had countries like Spain who had a contestant that looked like Malcolm Gladwell — surrounded by a sad harlequin clown dancer, a ballerina, a Raggedy Ann doll and something else odd — singing a song called “Something Tiny.” I don’t know about Spain, but here in the States, a man doesn’t brag about shit like that. For reals!

There was Moldova, whose entrants looked like Abba on crack singing “Run Away” (I wanted to!); Turkey with it’s “alt rock” band maNga — we all have a different idea of alt rock, I suppose; Greece with its singer Giorgios (“& Friends”!) stomping to the oh so original tune of “Opa!”; Belarus with it’s song that would make Mariah Carey weep — “Butterfly”. (At the end — as the women belted out, “I am a butterflyyyyyy”, they slapped their sides and wings sprouted from the back of their prom dresses! I love a Mime-eoke!). There was oh, so much more, including an entry that looked like twin-cest, one country with a clear Lucite piano, another with a clear Lucite violin (Lucite is HUGE in Europe) and a lot of explosions.

Germany ended up winning with their Anna Paquin/Katy Perry-esque singer. But it was hard to ignore the politics that invaded the contest. Turkey ended up coming in second (WHAT!? OVER MY SAD CLOWN?!) — and Israel came in a sad 14th place (question: Why is Israel in the EUROvision contest? It’s not in Europe! I get it — it’s full of former Europeans, but so is Australia, Canada and America! So not fair. I better be invited next year)… Two days later Israel stormed the Turkish aid ship to Gaza. Coincidence? I don’t think so… Then, there was Greece. Who can apparently take Germany’s relief money — but won’t give it any votes for the German entrant, Lena. Oh, snap!

Afterwards, I had to tear myself away from the international frivolity and head down to Tribeca to my pal Theano’s big gay blast — where, the one heterosexual man in attendance looked at me and said, “Your girlfriends are so nice, but they’re all straight, right?” (yes); “So. How do they meet men to date if they always hang out with just gay men?” An apt question. I told him to be on the lookout, as he’d be paid in gold coins for intros to his straight friends. Heh.