From the moment she demanded us to “Strike a pose!” I have been enthralled and recaptured by Madonna’s song ‘Vogue’. Released thirty five years ago (sweet baby Jesus how old does that put us?!) it remains an epochal and iconic song that has stood the test of time, surviving and thriving in the various iterations Madonna has performed on tours and halftime shows. For me, and for many gay men of a certain age, it has always meant a little bit more than meets the superficial eye.
Thirty-five years ago I was a freshman in high school. In our small town in upstate New York, the closest I could get to any sort of gay culture or lifestyle was Madonna, and ‘Vogue’ offered a glimpse of a world in which I sensed I might belong – a world of beauty, glamour, freedom, and dance-floor abandon. At a time when the AIDS epidemic raged and eradicated great swaths of the gay community, this was a space and a place to get away, even if the fabulousness and fantasy existed solely in our minds. Sometimes that had to be enough to get us through.
A great pop song won’t ever save the world, but once in a while one comes along to save a moment and even a life.
