Читать книгу Gok Wan - Emily Herbert - Страница 9

When the definitive book of unexpected consequences comes to be written, perhaps one of the oddest entries will be that involving the 1988 Writers Guild of America strike, a TV show called COPS and Gok Wan. But there is a direct link between the three. While Gok was still a surly, fat teenager with attitude in Leicester, events were going on across the pond that would have a direct effect on his future. Back in the late 1980s, there was no such thing as a television stylist, certainly not in the sense that we think of it today, but it was then that the train of events was set in motion that led to Gok’s future success.

Indeed, that writers’ strike was to change the face of television, little did anyone know it at the time. Contrary to popular belief, there had been some form of reality television stretching back through the decades, with perhaps the most well known being Granada Television’s Seven Up, a documentary series following the development of seven-year-old children from different socio-economic backgrounds, which began in 1964. But the explosion in today’s reality shows goes straight back to the events in 1988.

To put it bluntly, with all the scriptwriters on strike, there was nothing to put on air because nothing was getting written. So it was the future producers of reality television’s great good luck that a producer called John Langley, who had gone on raids with drug enforcement officers for a series of programmes about drugs, had a novel idea. Why not make a programme following the police in their work and at home? This had never been done at any length before: putting real life people in real life situations on prime time television. Along with his producing partner Malcolm Barbour, Langley pitched the idea to Stephen Chao, an executive at Fox.

A less far-sighted man than Chao might have rejected the idea without a second glance. But the pitch had quite a lot going for it at a time when the writers were striking. It was exactly what was needed: it required no script, no actors, no music, no planning and none of the standard paraphernalia required to make a television show. If timing is everything, then this timing could not have been more right. The writers had shot themselves in the foot: they had caused the creation of a new type of television that didn’t need them – and they had paved the way for people like Gok.

On 11 March, 1989, the first episode of COPS came out. It was totally revolutionary. The producers had dropped the idea of following the policemen home in favour of concentrating on their work, but this was more than enough to grip the viewers. What you saw really was what you got: the policemen and their work were portrayed without any editorial voiceover: their actions spoke entirely for themselves. It caused an immediate and lasting sensation, proving once and for all that the ordinary Joe in the street could be as fascinating on the small screen as any highly paid actor. This was television showing real life.

The series, which airs to this day, has been a spectacular success. The first episode featured the work of the Sheriff’s Office of Broward County in Florida, and locations all across the United States have appeared in the series. The people who actually make the programme have sometimes had to get involved: on one occasion a sound mixer had to help a police officer perform CPR (resuscitation after a heart attack). On another, a cameraman (who was also a Las Vegas reserve police officer) had to drop his camera and help another officer wrestle with a suspect. His camera was picked up by the soundman, who went on filming the scene. Viewers loved it and television executives realised they had a format that could make them a fortune. Other versions have since been filmed in London, Hong Kong and Russia.

Of course, COPS as a programme bears no similarity whatsoever with How to Look Good Naked, but it was the start of what would one day become a massive trend. A long way from the glossy production techniques associated with so much of 1980s television (such as Dallas and Dynasty), COPS came across as some kind of cinema verité. It introduced the viewing public to a totally different kind of viewing than anything they had seen before, and was eventually to make stars out of the unlikeliest of people, including, of course, Gok Wan. Reality television still provokes a curled lip in some quarters, and there are clearly some programmes that have not entirely been thought through, but the public clearly adores shows like Gok’s.

That, however, was still to come. After the United States had led the way, it was Holland that took up the baton, with a series called Number 28. This was in many ways a foreshadowing of Big Brother, yet it ran for only one season. Named after the house in which it was filmed, Number 28 took seven complete strangers, all students, and followed their lives for several months. It debuted in 1991, but unlike the programmes that were to follow it, the strangers were not kept in isolation and were not set tasks. It didn’t set the world on fire, but it was to prove hugely influential. It aired when Gok was still living in Leicester, and although he didn’t see it, it was to shape forces that had an enormous impact on his life.

It might not have lasted that long, but someone took notice, namely, MTV, which devised a similar format that went on to become a hit. In 1992 another show that runs to this day premiered: The Real World, in which seven strangers moved into a house together and were filmed inter-reacting, as well having their adventures in the outside world put on the screen. The show’s producers, Mary-Ellis Bunim and Jonathan Murray, originally toyed with the idea of some kind of pre-scripted format, but eventually dropped this in favour of allowing the participants to behave totally naturally.

The people involved were 18-25, mirroring the age of the audience they were looking for, and, foreshadowing Big Brother nearly a decade later, the house was furnished with a pool table and Jacuzzi. It also contained a fish tank – a metaphor for the show. Shades of Big Brother also arose through the use of the ‘confessional’, a soundproof room into which the cast were invited once a week, individually, to talk about their experiences of being on the show. It was another sensation and another step along the road of reality television: traditional viewing was changing beyond anything anyone could have imagined before.

The programme made a huge impact in the United States, and quite a few of the participants went on to become stars in their own right. (One, Kevin Powell, was a candidate for the US House of Representatives – Gok, take note.) The third season, set in San Francisco, made particular waves as it contained the AIDS activist Pedro Zamora. This generated huge publicity about the plight of men living with AIDS, and after his death in November 1994, just after the series ended, he was praised publicly by President Bill Clinton. Zamora had made one friend in particular during his time in the house: Judd Winick, who became a comic-book writer and penned the graphic novel Pedro and Me. It was also this series that revealed for the first time the true full potential of reality TV. Earlier participants had not become public figures who stayed in the headlines even after their time on screen had ended: now they did. More important still, viewers couldn’t get enough of it. People began to realise that not just this format but any number of other reality programmes could have a huge impact if they were shown on TV.

The changing face of technology also made this kind of programme possible on a widespread basis. The television commentator Charlie Brooker said that it was only because of the invention of computer-based, non-linear editing systems that it could be done. This meant that hours and hours of footage could be edited down very quickly, something that had not been possible before. But attitudes were changing, too. Purists might not have liked it, but this was a very democratic way of running television. Ordinary people were becoming its stars.

It was not until 1996 that British television finally woke up to the mainstream possibilities of reality television, although when it did so, it was an astounding success. The first of what can really be called the modern generation of British reality TV shows was a makeover programme, although it was very different from the ones Gok would go on to present. It was Changing Rooms, a show that inspired innumerable successors and fuelled a DIY boom.

The show, originally hosted by Carol Smillie and ‘Handy’ Andy Kane, used a format that had two couples swapping houses and then doing up the other’s property. It was bound to cause ructions and frequently did. There were more revelations for the programme-makers: it made very good television, provoking reactions from the public, who were either pleased or appalled by what they saw. The stars were important, but so were the participants, something Trinny and Susannah certainly cottoned on to, although in the end they might have gone too far. That was something Gok was to grasp with greater success, for unlike his two posh predecessors, he coaxed reactions out of people by using kindness. He became the face of reality television using gentleness, not strife.

Many of the designers who took part in Changing Rooms went on to become household names, including Linda Barker, Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen and Anna Ryder Richardson, all of whom had careers that extended far beyond the remit of the show. The programme also had its fair share of disasters, which also made for riveting viewing. On one occasion Linda Barker designed a room to house a valuable collection of teapots: the shelves collapsed, destroying them.

Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen was probably the most controversial in his designs: his modernism-meets-Versailles rooms did not always meet with their owners’ approval and provoked strong reactions, which also made excellent viewing. And on one memorable occasion, Anna Ryder Richardson decorated a room by placing undergarments in frames on the wall: ‘Why should I want this shit in my room? I’ve got children!’ shrieked the owner, before bursting into tears. But it all made great telly and the viewers loved it. Viewing figures soared: the producers had a hit on their hands.

As well as inspiring other home makeover shows in the UK, Changing Rooms gave rise to various overseas versions, including Trading Spaces in the United States. The original British version became cult viewing across the pond, too, featuring in the ‘Lights, Camera, Relationship’ episode of Sex and the City. By the time it came to the end of its last run in 2004, it had become an institution of sorts – and an example of what a really good makeover format could be. It was hugely influential in the number of programmes it inspired, and it’s not putting it too strongly to say that it changed the shape of British television. It was a revelation to everyone involved.

By the turn of the new century, reality television had become a staple of television life. Quite apart from the huge, albeit now diminishing impact of Big Brother, first shown in 2000, there are now whole channels that are devoted to reality telly: Zone Reality in the UK, and Fox Reality in the United States. But it was on 29 November, 2001, when the kind of show that was to make Gok a star finally came in to being:Trinny and Susannah first appeared in What Not to Wear on BBC2. A new type of television sensation was born.

The idea couldn’t have been simpler: take someone who was frumpy and give them a fashion makeover, proving that there are clothes for every shape. Specifically, participants (nominated by family or friends as being particularly unfashionable) were ambushed by our two heroines and, having received advice, given £2,000 to spend on new clothes. Both girls were happy to manhandle their subjects, and it was not unknown for a contestant to be reduced to tears. The public loved it, and the presenters: two rather bullying posh girls, who were not afraid to tell it like it is. By the show’s second run they were managing to get celebrities to appear, including Jeremy Clarkson, who memorably remarked, ‘I’d rather eat my own hair than shop with these two again.’

The duo, with their glitzy backgrounds – Trinny came from a rich family and Susannah had dated Viscount Linley in her youth – became unlikely folk heroes, but back then, at least, the public loved them. And a lot of what they said was sound common sense. The show received critical acclaim and the industry lauded them too: in 2002 Trinny and Susannah won a Royal Television Society Award for best factual presenters. The next year they did a spin-off called What Not to Wear on the Red Carpet; their celebrity guests were Jo Brand and Sophie Raworth.

The following year they climbed to greater heights still. Now on the verge of becoming national treasures (although some people loathed them for their perceived cruelty – Trinny and Tranny was one of the kinder nicknames they attracted), their show was switched to BBC1. The initial series of What Not to Wear had lasted 30 minutes with one subject; now it was extended to a full hour, with two. In later series, it was no longer family and friends that did the nominating: the would-be subjects themselves sent in videos, saying why they felt they should feature on the show. The manhandling continued, as did the blunt, tell-it-like-it-is advice.

The series continued to be extremely popular. More celebrities were enticed on screen: Trish Goddard, David Baddiel and Ingrid Tarrant all appeared. In 2005, none other than Britney Spears announced she was a fan: ‘The girls are so dramatic in the makeovers, you just get caught up in it,’ she remarked.‘Would I go on the show? Never say never.’ In fact, as well as spawning international version, the English show has been seen all over the world, and is regularly repeated on UK Style. At the time it seemed as if the girls were invincible: certainly no one would have thought that a half-English, half-Chinese man who towered over them and came from a rough council estate in Leicester would ever take their crown.

Proof, if it were needed, that Trinny and Susannah had made it big came when Alistair McGowan and Ronni Ancona took to spoofing them on their own show, Big Impression. Meanwhile, they gained the ultimate seal of approval from the children of the world when they appeared as two killer androids, Trinn-e and Zu-Zanna in an episode of Dr Who (‘Bad Wolf’). There was also an appearance on Children in Need in 2004, giving Little Mo and Mo Harris from EastEnders makeovers: they seemed to be on a roll.

With the benefit of hindsight, it is possible to see that Trinny and Susannah made the wrong move. They left the show that had made them famous, handing over to Lisa Butcher and Mica Paris, who might not have made the same impact but proved to be a safe pair of hands, and moving across to ITV to make Trinny and Susannah Undress the Nation. But there was an immediate problem, in that they weren’t allowed to take their successful format across with them, so they had to devise another way to show people how to dress.

The solution they came up with was to find couples who were having problems in their relationships, and who could use clothes as a means of solving them. This immediately, and understandably, caused comments to the effect they were stylists and journalists, not relationship counsellors. Nonetheless, the show started off well, and its presenters were made the faces of Littlewoods Direct shopping. Orders rose by 30 per cent. But they were not the first to leave a successful format and discover that their brand didn’t travel: their initial viewing figures were not to last.

But at the time, Trinny and Susannah were on a roll. The girls were nothing if not game: they advertised the new show by posing naked, covering themselves only with their hands. The public loved it, but it was quite clear from the start that this was a very different kind of programme from What Not to Wear, and that the brashness and bullying that had gone with the former was perhaps not so appropriate here.

The format was this: the girls met a couple having relationship difficulties, talked to them about their problems and then asked them to put on the clothes in which they felt most comfortable. Dinner with friends and family followed, wearing these clothes. The next day the couple had to view each other naked (the girls saw them only in silhouette from behind a screen), point out their partner’s best bits, and the girls then took them shopping separately. A full makeover followed, and voila! Everyone was happy again.

It was hardly surprising the show raised eyebrows from the start. The first episode featured a couple, Ellie and Lester, whose problems looked rather more serious than anything that could be solved by a few new clothes. Lester was 19 years older than Ellie and seven inches shorter; aged 53, he stayed at home to look after the couple’s two autistic sons. Ellie, meanwhile, confessed to an affair. They were subjected to the Trinny and Susannah treatment, but ultimately, viewers were left feeling they might have needed help of a very different sort. This appeared to be trivialising people’s problems, and they were quite serious problems. Could a change of clothes really signal a change of life?

Ironically, when Gok hit the television screens a few years later, he did what Trinny and Susannah had tried, but with much greater success. His subjects also needed a boost of confidence to change deep-rooted fears and problems, but possibly because his style was so different, it actually appeared to work.

Trinny and Susannah, however, seemed to take a rather more brusque approach, and the people they featured continued to have problems that needed a very different kind of help. And so it went on, and as it did so, ratings began to fall. The second series didn’t attract nearly as many viewers, and by the time they embarked on Trinny and Susannah Undress the Nation at the end of 2007, their star was clearly on the wane. But the television makeover show was as popular as ever – it was merely that the two women had begun to grate, and had not managed to find a format that matched the popularity of their original series. The viewers were switching off.

In fact, the two really were perceived now to be going too far. Upper-class bossiness was one thing, but some people thought their barbs were really becoming too sharp. What had initially seemed straightforward common sense was beginning to feel a bit mean, and with some of the people they spoke to clearly rather vulnerable, a more gentle approach was now on the cards. But Trinny and Susannah didn’t do gentle, not by a long shot, and had been developing their particular style for so long now that changing would have been quite a break. Criticism was growing, and there were signs that the tide was beginning to turn.

And so the scene was set for someone who would compliment women rather than criticise, who would make them feel good about themselves, while pointing them in the direction of self-improvement. A completely new type of person was needed, someone so different from Trinny and Susannah that a whole new way of doing makeover shows was to be presented to the nation. And television was about to find just that.

* * *

In the early 1990s, however, Gok was a long way from becoming that star. For a start, he was still losing all that weight, and it was clear where the problem stemmed from, as Gok himself acknowledged. His parents were caterers and their whole life revolved around food, which was not conducive to keeping weight down.‘If you go round to their house, within minutes, food is either happening or being discussed,’ he said. ‘When they had the restaurant, they’d come home from work at midnight and cook fried rice and steak – we’d smell it coming up the stairs, then we’d all get up and eat it at 2am. When a woman says to me, “I cannot bear the thought of anyone seeing me naked,” I know how that feels.’

He was being sensible, though, about getting the weight off. ‘Lifestyle changes and a decision to eat less,’ he said, when asked how he’d done it.‘I started walking more, taking the stairs not the lift, that sort of thing. I also reduced the food I ate and educated myself about what was good for me.’

But now that he was living in London, he was finding a far healthier relationship with food. He also decided it was time to declare to his family that he was gay. ‘I came out to Oilen first,’ Gok revealed. ‘She said she always knew, but then it was hard to miss. She did what Oilen always does: she told me how I felt. She said, “You’ll feel better when you tell Mum and Dad.” When I phoned Mum, she said, “It’s OK. Oilen told me.” Dad was brilliant. He didn’t say anything, but when I first took a boyfriend home, he made up a bed in the lounge.’

Indeed, Gok was aware that this was potentially a very problematic area for his father. ‘Dad was amazing,’ he said. ‘In the Chinese community, views on homosexuality are pretty much where everyone else’s were in the 1970s: they’re 30 years behind, and I don’t think that’s about to change. When Mum [told] me she knew, I was devastated. I was so scared of losing them. It was a very, very, very big moment in my life.’

It is for many gay men, of course, but Gok was in a particularly difficult position. Being mixed race and coming from a rough council estate, Gok had already encountered quite enough problems as it was: having to out himself to a conservative family was not easy. But their complete acceptance of his news and of their son being who he was made it much easier for him in the longer term. Gok has certainly never made any pretence of being anything but gay once his television career began, and his parents’ early attitude must have influenced that.

One interviewer asked whether having the truth out in the open was a relief. ‘I don’t remember,’ Gok replied. ‘I’ve blocked that one out. It’s weird, isn’t it? I’m still dealing with my sexuality, I think. But they’re cool about my boyfriends. They’ve stayed at the house. My parents went through so much themselves, I think that’s allowed them to be more liberal about things, and my mum is very kind and I think that has affected Dad’s opinions, and we all stand by one another.’The closeness of the family was as important – and strong – as ever.

Oilen also recalled that time in her brother’s life. ‘When he told me he was gay, my first reaction was to worry for his future,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want him to be subjected to prejudices as a result of being a gay man. At the same time I wanted him to be able to live his life freely, which is why I wanted him to be open with Mum and Dad. He was miserable when he first left home, and I was there for him as much as I could be. I just knew by the tone of his voice on the phone when he needed us, and I’d say to Mum, “I think we should go and see Babe this weekend.” He started to lose the weight around the same time. It was all to do with trying to find out who he was, and I think he feels just much more himself as a slim man. It was quite a long transitional phase and from it the butterfly emerged, and he’s happy.’

This was a huge turning point in Gok’s life. He had left home, he was losing half his body weight, he had come out to his family (and thus the world at large) and he was putting behind him all the more difficult experiences of the past. And at this stage, he had everything to play for. Drama school might not have worked out for him, but he was still very young, with all the opportunities the metropolis afforded him and he was casting about to see what he would be able to do. The world was his for the taking.

His professional life, however, was initially slow to take off. Gok was very short of money. He worked behind a bar and made Christmas cards and lampshades, with wire he found at the bottom of his garden in Kilburn, north London, while he was learning how to do hair and make-up. It was dispiriting at times, and there were moments when he needed those visits from his family. But time passed and he continued to learn his trade.

But life certainly wasn’t easy. Gok also worked in pubs and clubs to make a living, to say nothing of stints in call centres. ‘Oh yeah, I’ve worked in a million call centres,’ said Gok. ‘And, do you know what? I was pretty bloody good at it.’ It was a defiant attitude in latter years, but at the time was a source of intense frustration. Waiting for a career to take off can be hard going.

Gradually, however, work began to materialise. Gok was getting to know this new world, getting to know London and planning for the future. He was also exposed to the kind of shops he had never seen before. ‘I remember walking down Bond Street when I first moved to London, aged 20, and thinking, “One day…” because we never had anything like that when we were younger,’ he recalled.

Indeed, Gok was going from being relatively unsophisticated to someone who knew his way about town. Indeed, this was as much a part of the learning process as anything else. He was now exposed to high fashion of the haute couture kind rather than the high street, as well as sophisticated restaurants and bars – the world in which his clients moved and in which he was to move himself. It was a crucial stage to go through, still in relative anonymity, but preparing himself for the big time all the while.

As he persevered, so his client list began to build up. Big names began to come to the fore. Gok styled, amongst others, Bryan Ferry, All Saints, Damien Lewis, Erasure, Vanessa Mae, Wade Robson, Lauren Laverne, Wet Wet Wet and Johnny Vaughan. One commission led to another: people began to pass on his details. The industry began to take note of this tall, gentle Anglo-Chinese stylist they found in their midst.

As his name and reputation grew, so magazines began to be interested in his work. Tatler used him, as did Glamour. He also styled for Times Style, Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, The Face, Afisha Mir, Clash and People. He was working with famous photographers, too: Rankin, Mike Owen, Tony McGee, Arthur Elgort and Jason Joyce. He was getting the all-important credits for his work now, and coming to the notice of people who were going to be of considerable use to him. There was a change in the air, and Gok was doing increasingly well.

Gok himself felt the change. Asked in 1997 when he knew he’d become successful, he replied, ‘When I turned down a job because I didn’t want to do it. That’s when I knew I’d made it because I could afford to turn the work down. I was very pleased to get in Glamour magazine. It’s very glossy. I did All Saints for them last year and it was nice to work with them.’

Finally, he began to make his way. Initially Gok worked for mainly for magazines, but made the move across into television, which is where he was finally to make his name. His early work was for MTV Shakedown, GMTV, LK Today, Battle of the Sexes, The Wright Stuff, Make Me a Grown Up, The Xtra Factor and T4. He proved enormously popular with the people he worked with, as he continues to do now, while his hard work and professionalism made him an asset to have around. For all his flamboyance, Gok was not a prima donna and his work always came up to exacting standards. Increasingly he was well spoken of, and television executives began to wonder if they might just have another star on their hands. There was certainly no one else like Gok on television: could he possibly have what it takes?

The most important of the jobs that came his way during this period was Big Brother’s Little Brother, for this was the time that Channel 4 executives began to think that their larger than life, Anglo-Chinese stylist, just brimming over with personality, might actually be up to fronting a television series all by himself. ‘Channel 4 had seen me doing bits and bobs and asked me to do a screen test,’ said Gok.‘Within a week I’d signed a contract and we were going for it. I’ve been doing fashion for years so I’m not afraid of being on camera but I never went into this wanting to be a celebrity.’

That series was to be How to Look Good Naked. After the best part of a decade waiting for his big break, Gok Wan was on his way.