Naturally Tan Read online

  Tilda Swinton

  Whenever there’s a red carpet, she’s the one I’m waiting for. Very few women but many gay men find her super stylish. I don’t know what the problem is or why the rest of the world doesn’t love her, because I think she is so cool. She can be androgynous, and she can go from super feminine to über, über masculine. I love that she’s not following what everyone else is doing. She comes up with her own look and does her own thing, which is why she’s a muse for so many designers.

  Cate Blanchett

  After I’ve seen Tilda, Cate is the next person I look for. She doesn’t have to make a massively bold statement, because her elegance and sophistication are unlike anyone else’s on the planet. She does occasion wear better than anyone else. In my opinion, she is the queen of the red carpet.

  Cheryl Tweedy

  As far as I’m concerned, she may be the most beautiful woman in the world. She encouraged and empowered women in the UK to dress more interestingly. She has a more playful, interesting version of style that isn’t just supertight nightclub wear, but also rocking trainers and track pants.

  Actually, side note, come to think of it, the most beautiful woman in the world is the queen of Jordan. That shit is insane.

  Gigi Hadid

  Her style is cool, and I admire that she changes it up every day. The luxury for women is that they can reinvent their look every day and be a new version of themselves all the time. Gigi takes advantage of this, and I really respect that.

  David Beckham

  I think he’s one of the most relatable fashion icons for men. He’s sort of an everyman, even though his beauty is otherworldly. He’ll wear a simple jumper and boots and jeans, and he always looks chic as fuck. If you’re a man and you don’t know who to look to for inspiration, he’s a really safe option.

  Zayn Malik

  When it comes to my own inspiration, I really prefer someone like a Zayn, who can do street wear really well and can do ’90s grunge one day and a Balenciaga moment off the runway the next. It doesn’t hurt that he looks incredible in everything he wears.

  Justin Trudeau

  As far as politicians go, he looks fantastic. He’s showing men in politics how to wear a really well-fitting suit and how to command a room instead of looking like you’ve worn your granddad’s clothes.

  Russell Westbrook

  Russell is an NBA player, but until literally a few weeks back, I didn’t even know what sport he played; I just followed him for his fashion. He’s like no one else. I love that there is someone in this totes masculine sports world who is saying to men, “You can care about your appearance, and you can use fashion to express your personality.” Expressing your creativity doesn’t make you queeny or gay; it just means you care about how you’re presenting yourself to the world. He’s breaking down barriers when it comes to the intersection of fashion and sports.

  CROPPED SHIRT

  A few years ago, I was watching an interview with old-school Marky Mark, who obviously everyone has had a crush on at some point over the past twenty-five years. Even now, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t think he’s a little bit sexy. In the interview, he was wearing a sweatshirt that was cropped, and I thought, I haven’t seen a good crop in a very, very long time.

  Crops used to be everywhere. Can we please take a moment to talk about how bros were wearing crop tops in the ’80s? How was that not more talked about? How was that not seen as gay then, but it is now? You mean to tell me that nobody thought it was strange that all these jock bros were running around wearing crop tops, back in the ’80s and ’90s, when people were even more backwards than they are now?

  Anyway, back in the present day, I was looking at Marky Mark’s sweatshirt and wondering how I could incorporate that into my own look. So I found a sweatshirt and cropped the bottom of it. I left the sleeves long, as I didn’t want it to look too costume-y. I didn’t have the confidence in my torso to wear it sans undershirt, so I layered the crop top with a tank top underneath and was living for the layered proportions.

  One day before our press tour, I stumbled across a picture of me in that sweatshirt, and it inspired me to start doing it again. I wore a cropped shirt once to a photo shoot, and since then, it has exploded.

  Antoni was obviously super jealous (as he always is of me) that I was wearing a crop top, because he has that insane six-pack and wanted to show it off. So he started to crop his sweatshirts. I’m using this book to set the record straight: that bitch stole my look. Everyone’s acting like he came up with it, when it was really mine (and the ’80s’) first. We can’t treat me like I didn’t come up with something just because I don’t have abs like Antoni Porowski. I wore it first. I’m sick of this racism and preferential treatment.

  One day, we were in New York City doing press, and Antoni and I went shopping. We were each buying sweatshirts, and I said to the sales associate, “Do you have a pair of scissors? We’d like to crop these before we leave the store.” So we did, and then we posted a picture on Instagram of us in our cropped shirts, saying we were twinning.

  Jonathan saw the photo and was so mad and immediately FaceTimed me. “If you don’t bring me a cropped shirt, I am going to kill myself, and then come back to life to kill you both before killing myself again,” he said. So we brought him a crop of his own. At this point, all three of us were wearing our cropped shirts on the way to dinner in an always-packed New York City. As we started to walk down the street, so many people kept running up to us and saying hi. It was a lot of attention.

  Jonathan grew frustrated. “What is going on? This is very much, very much.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “We’re walking down the street in matching fucking crop tops. You can’t complain that we’re getting too much attention when you are literally the reason it’s happening. We have to stop twinning-tripleting.” Since then, I have needed to remember that I can’t twin with either of them anymore, or that if I do, we can only do it when we are not walking the streets of any major city.

  Since then, I have seen raw-edge crop-top sweatshirts everywhere, and I’d like to believe I had some influence. Yes, my inflated sense of self is back with a vengeance. But I really do think that I helped propel this trend forward. So there.

  Even if crop tops aren’t your thing, cropped items can actually be very flattering. If you’re vertically challenged, most stores sell items that cater to the average-sized person, and it can be difficult to wear them. Longer items will morph your proportions and distort them into things you don’t want them to be. Wearing a longer jacket, for example, will make you look shorter and wider than you have to.

  Getting dressed is all about tricking the eye. So, when I’m choosing lightweight jackets, I’ll choose jackets that don’t hit past my hip bone, which helps make legs look taller and leaner. If I’m wearing longer winter coats, I’ll layer a couple of shorter items to counterbalance. As a five-foot-nine person, I’m actually average height, but my castmates are white giants and one Karamo, and I am dwarfed by them. So I have to use every trick in my arsenal that I can.

  Here’s how it usually goes: gays will start to wear something, it becomes a trend, and then ten years later, brosefs will co-opt it, and I’ll be like, “You’re behind the times.” Perhaps this is what will happen with cropped shirts.

  This is what happened with T-shirts. Gays started wearing tight T-shirts, but now meatheads have adopted that as their official uniform. Don’t get me wrong—they’re usually very buff and nice to look at from afar, but you wouldn’t want to date that. There is something about a supertight T-shirt that screams, “Look at me!” It’s a bit tool-y.

  Whenever I see people in tight T-shirts, it’s usually not forgiving. Gone are the days when sexy-sexy sells. I prefer a looser fit. I like when your features are highlighted, but don’t show it all off. Maybe show off one thing. That is all. Something loose and only slightly suggestive is much sexier than wearing skintight clothes.

  I think our preferen
ces around fit, for anything, evolve over time. Sometimes the trend is for things to be more fitted and sometimes looser. When I was in my twenties, I would put darts in the back of all my tops so they would fit me closely. But over the last few years, I’ve loosened up, and so have my tops.

  PSA: T-SHIRTS

  When in doubt, always go for a crew neck. This is especially true for men.

  The one exception to this rule is if you are heavier set or if there is no true definition at your neck. If you are one of these men where your head and neck sort of blend together, then you should go for a V-neck, which will give you the illusion of a neck and balance out those proportions.

  If you are not one of these men, do not wear a V-neck. Douchebags (especially in Las Vegas and New Jersey) seem to gravitate toward a V, sometimes even a deep V. You look like a tool. No woman wants that V-neck guy. When I see your deep V, I know who you are without you having to say a word. I know that you are someone who is single and isn’t a great date—though you believe you are, just as you also believe that you’re dynamite in the sack.

  A deep V had its place ten years ago, and if it ever does come back, run a mile.

  The wearer of the deep V sometimes teams the shirt with bedazzled jeans, or jeans with white contrast stitching on dark blue denim. If you see that combo, run.

  For any men mourning their V-neck, sometimes people tell you things you don’t want to hear. Sometimes your family and friends aren’t strong enough to tell you, so Tan France has to do it. I’m doing the work of every single woman out there who’s had to go on a date with someone dressed like a tool and is like, I knew I should have swiped left.

  For women, I don’t have a hard-and-fast rule. I still usually prefer a crew neck, but a V-neck can be nice with décolletage. With women, your neckline doesn’t make as much of a statement of “tool or not a tool.” You are the lucky ones who aren’t defined by your T-shirts.

  LEATHER JACKET

  My very first fan interaction was with Jon Fucking Bon Jovi. He was literally the first famous person who knew my name. I cannot tell you how weird it is when you go from having absolutely nobody know who you are to suddenly being recognized by Jon Bon Jovi.

  Our show came out on a Wednesday. Two days later, we pretaped The Today Show. At this point, the show had only been out for like forty-eight hours, and nobody knew who we were. On the streets of New York, there was no recognition. Even the people in the green room who were prepping us to go on air had absolutely no idea who we were. It had only been two days; of course no one knew our names yet.

  I stepped out of the green room and into the hallway, where I started chatting with a producer named John. That’s when I saw Bon Jovi and his entourage walking down the hall. He looked slick as shit with his leather jacket and salt-and-pepper mane. To be honest, I’d never considered myself a fangirl for him, as he wasn’t as big a star in the UK, but he is a legend and his songs are iconic. Everyone knows who he is. I hadn’t really met anybody famous at that point, and this was a huge deal.

  I had never been one to stalk a celebrity before. I stood there talking to John the producer, thinking, Ignore Bon Jovi. You have no right to say anything to him. You are not his friend. You do not know him. He doesn’t care that you’re on a show. Why would he? Let him go on with his life, and act like he’s not there.

  I had my back turned to him at that point, because I didn’t want him to think I was staring. I heard his footsteps stop.

  Then he kind of touched my arm and said, “Do you mind if I get a picture?” I thought he was asking me to move out of the way so he could take a picture with John. I stepped aside.

  He was like, “No, Tan, can I have a photo with you?”

  I gasped. I was like, “Wait, what? You know my name?”

  And he was like, “Of course I do! My wife and I love you on the show!”

  I said, “Jon Bon Jovi, you can have whatever you want! Of course you can have a photo!”

  He told me to call him Jon, but I said that my mind simply wouldn’t let me do that, Jon Bon Jovi.

  I turned to John and said, “Can you take a picture of me and Jon Bon Jovi?”

  And so we took some pictures. There’s one photo where he’s putting something in his pocket, in between shots, and my mouth is wide open and my expression is one of complete and utter shock. What the fuck was about to happen to my life?

  “Since I can have whatever I want, can we FaceTime my wife?” he asked. “She would love that.”

  At this point, the other boys noticed what was happening, and then they wanted to get a picture, too. (Jon Bon Jovi forgot to FaceTime his wife, because the boys totally screwed that up, and I never got to talk to her. Did I mention that I hate my stupid boys?) We couldn’t believe somebody famous knew who we were. From that point forward, everything snowballed out of control.

  Those first couple of months, every time we would see famous people, they would be so excited we were there. I never in a million years expected these people would ask me for a picture. “Do you mind if we take a picture real quick?” they’d ask. That’s my line. I’m little Tan from fucking South Yorkshire, and this makes no sense. Why are you asking me for my picture?

  At this point, it happens virtually any time we go somewhere. It’s an incredibly strange feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever be regular Pakistani Tan from South Yorkshire again. It feels so surreal. I would love to be cool and act like, “Oh, it ain’t nothing.” But no. Freak your shit out. Some things are worth freaking your shit out over. I’ve trained myself to remain relatively composed. Know this is a lie. Inside I’m my teenage girl self, experiencing a full-on mind explosion.

  No matter how many times this happens, and no matter how weird my life becomes, I will never forget that moment with Jon Bon Jovi and thinking, My life changed today.

  It has just kept changing, ever since.

  CROSSED LEGS

  I’ve always thought of myself as quite effeminate. But as a younger person, it was something I really tried to hide for fear that I would be called out.

  The other day, I was having a conversation with Jonathan and Karamo in the trailer, and I mentioned how effeminate I was. They started to laugh. I said, “Obviously, JVN and I are the most feminine in the cast.”

  And then they played a little game. It wasn’t malicious; they were just trying to make a point. They said, “Let’s put everyone in order, according to how feminine they are.” They put me near the end, right before Antoni, who came last. Apparently, I’m not quite as effeminate as I thought.

  I think I used to give myself a harder time than necessary about it. Even as we discussed it that day, we talked about how insignificant that notion seems now, especially in this position we are currently in. I’m not trying to hide the fact that I’m gay anymore. So it doesn’t really matter if I’m feminine.

  In my early life, the only concern I had with seeming feminine was that people might know something I might not want them to know. Still, every now and then, a little voice rings out in my head: You are South Asian—this isn’t how you behave!

  The voice had a lot to say when we did the show Lip Sync Battle. We were told we could dress up however we wanted and sing whatever we wanted to do. The boys said they wanted to do a Britney number—to start with Beyoncé and then go into Britney. I would have gone with something hip-hop, because that’s what I prefer. Don’t get me wrong—I love me some Beyoncé; I just didn’t fancy doing a pop song. But I was outnumbered; we would do Britney. Then there was a costume fitting, and we were trying to decide which character I would play. This meant one thing: I was going to have to do drag.

  Until then, I never saw myself doing drag. I had never even considered doing it before. I’ve watched many a drag show, and I find it hilarious; it’s just never been something I have a desire to do. I’ve never felt a desire to wear a dress or a full face of makeup or a wig. So for me, it wasn’t something that excited me.

  I was hesitant.

  When i
t came to the costumes, we got to choose which version of Britney we wanted to be. Before anyone else could comment, I said I wanted to be Circus Britney, because she wore flat boots, and I didn’t want to dance in a heel. She was also relatively covered up. Of all the options, it seemed like it was as much like me as physically possible while dressed like Britney Spears.

  Our outfits were decided five days in advance. Then we turned up the day before the live show and the costumes were already made and fitted. They tested our wigs and makeup, and we danced in our outfits to make sure things didn’t fall off.

  I always thought you’d have weeks and weeks to prepare for something like this. You do not. We had three hours the day before to rehearse and then the next day we had one hour to prepare before they filmed. For me, four hours does not a dancer make. You could have given me four days and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I barely slept a wink the night before, because I wanted to make sure I knew the moves.

  When it came time to film, Antoni and Bobby screwed up the cue and did it way earlier than they were supposed to, which made me look like I didn’t know what I was doing. But it didn’t matter, because it was all so much fun. Everyone was lovely to work with and made us feel great. It was an incredible experience. If I could do it a thousand times over I would.

  Still, it’s weird looking at pictures of myself in that outfit because I’m not used to seeing myself in a full face of makeup. I would make a terrible drag queen. Antoni looked really pretty; he would make a great drag queen. But Bobby and I looked pretty damn scary.