Inside Style by Annmarie O'Connor
as featured in The Dubliner magazine - November 4th
X Factor has a lot to answer for. Despite the fact that my foreseeable weekends are now indentured to the talent show, I’ve also developed an unlikely style crush on its underdog Wagner. The ironically hairy Brazilian may have been sheared from the show by the time this goes to print but something tells me there’s life in those snake hips yet.
Maybe it’s the J-Lo hoop earrings, the Hugh Heffner smoking jacket, the way those grey chest hair ripple over his open shirt but Wagner (or rather “V-AH-G-NAIR, Louis!”) has my vote; not to mention my unmitigated attention. Let’s recap.
Week 1 – Wagner slaps some naughty bongos to a ‘She Bangs’ / ‘Love Shack’ mash-up in a velvet jacket, open shirt, hermetically-sealed jeans and winkle-picking boots, clad with enough chains to conduct a current of electricity through that glistening hot sweat.
Week 2 – Wagner channels fellow gyrator Tom Jones in a rendition of ‘Just Help Yourself’ dressed shirtless in another velvet jacket and sperm-suffocating trousers, this time with enough chains to rival Mr. T in a chain-off. Who’s the fool now?
Week 3 – Wagner unleashes his Latino love machine in a Spice Girls / Ricky Martin mash-up rescinding the ‘no white after Labour Day’ rule and looking hot in dream catchers and a mesh wife beater. Phwoar!
Back off Judgy Mc Judgersons. I can peer up your curled nostrils from where I’m sitting and it’s not pretty. Dare I say, I’m not alone in my style crush. Just ask Henry Holland who recently tweeted of the Mr. Carrilho’s boho sensibilities “Can't wait to buy some incense and a sarong off Wagner next holiday” and quite astutely likened him to John Galliano (albeit after eating carbs).
Sure, the Dudley domicile may be the 159-1 rank outsider to win the ITV talent show but I’m really not too bothered as to whether he can sing or not. Personally I’m more curious to see if rose-embroidered cowboy shirts, Cherokee chokers and Tom Selleck moustaches will make resurgence at next season’s Dior menswear show.
As for Louis Walsh, it’s time to get that advertising deal in place before our crooner is sent packing. That fulsome ponytail has cash cow written all over it; and is a damn sight easier to manage that the Jedward coif. Make haste Louis; fashion waits for no one.
