Miss U Bobby Trendy

by Alexandra Molotkow

bobby

“I used to be Vietnamese. But now I am a white woman,” said Mr. Trendy, adjusting his diamond-encrusted lady’s Chanel watch. “A very rich, very beautiful white woman.”

In case you’d forgotten about Bobby Trendy — I mean, God forbid, but just in case — I strongly recommend Simon Doonan’s Observer profile of this extraordinary person from 2002, the year The Anna Nicole Show premiered:

I asked Mr. Trendy if he was conscious of his haunting, Sphinx-like demeanor. “What the hell is Sphinx-like?” hissed Mr. Trendy in a breathy, sibilant Marilyn voice. “I don’t have emotion. I’m a God-like statue-essssssssssss.” He creepily stroked one of the 24-carat-gold-painted Egyptian plaster cats adorning his chaotic lair, prompting me to ask him about his spiritual life. “Cha-ching! Cha-ching!” he ejaculated quietly, doing what I soon realized was his signature imitation of a cash register. “I like money and things I can see and touch. I’m not spiritual. I’ll leave that to Madonna and her Kabbalah. Cha-ching!”

Today, Bobby is still selling “very, very, expensive pillows,” or at least, he’s still in the interior design game. You can buy his wares on Etsy. His Instagram could use a few more followers. I can speak to the demand for a Trendy podcast, or a video series would be better actually: “I smother my lips in lip gloss until I look like a clown. Then everybody listens to everything which comes out of my mouth.”

“I like to get fucked everyday, and I don’t care who does it,” he told me, quaffing champagne directly from the bottle. “They can be in a wheelchair or a stroller — I don’t care. I don’t even bother to look over my shoulder and see who is doing it. I wouldn’t want to strain my neck.”

As the photo shoot progressed, he got looser: At one point Mr. Trendy, wielding a flashlight, even implored the cameraman to “photograph my beautiful butthole.”

Go Bobby!