I have never understood how figure skating could be cool. Watching men and women in strange costumes dancing mock ballet on ice has never been my cup of tea. To me, figure skating has always been the delicate prima donna princess of winter sports.
So while my sister swooned over Kristi Yamaguchi, cried over the Ekaterina/Sergei love story and watched that Moira Kelly/ DB Sweeny movie whose name I thankfully can't remember over and over and over again, I had to keep from gagging over the cotton candiness of it all and trying to end my miseries with a duck and some rat poison.
That is, until I stumbled into the wonderful world of Johnny Weir.
To me, he epitomizes the sport -- its preciousness and drama, the athletic skill required to make it to the top, the intruiging and good looking personalities that make millions of people want to worship them. All these, plus that he brings to the surface what other figure skaters are afraid to -- he's hip, flambouyant, is oh so sure of himself, and is just so darn good-looking, in that skinny, half heroin chic, half androgynous sort of way . He's proof that figure skating *is* gay, but in a cool way.
Photo from http://www.figureskatersonline.com/johnnyweir/gallery.html