Célinununu. No, it is not the grotesque epithet some Upper East Side mother has for her lycée-attending child, but the name of Céline Dion’s new genderless clothing line for children. While, of course, all gay icons should be on the bandwagon of fluidity if they hope to continue selling intangible records to their fanbase, Céline seemed, somehow, the most unlikely of all the candidates among, say, Madonna, Britney Spears (who already has a genderless perfume anyway–marketed in the most heteronormative way possible, mind you), Christina Aguilera, Mariah Carey or even Beyoncé–all of whom boast a litter of children (which is why Lady Gaga isn’t on this list–childless crone that she is). But then, maybe therein lies the problem: they don’t actually want their own kids to have to be forced to wear the products.
In Céline’s case, her children aren’t necessarily immune to being urged to wear the attire she’s designed either, specifically her twins, Eddy and Nelson, born in 2010. The other one though–the one born in 2001–he’s safe…for now. And yet, they are the type of children Céline, interplanetary alien that she is, wouldn’t mind practicing the message of what her clothing preaches by “encouraging” her kids to be a part of that message as well. As for the commercial promoting it, well, “Marry the Night” has nothing on this in terms of hospital scene usage, with Céline furtively entering the space with a black duffel bag embossed with a white cross (very First Aid looking, as though all the tools we’ll need to save us from choosing a gender are in there).
Narrating in her usual blacked out from reality manner, Céline explains, “Our children, they are not really our children, as we are all just links in a never-ending chain that is life. For us, they are everything. But in reality we are only a fraction of their universe.” As though to gently explain to the narrow-minded parent that does not live in Park Slope how children are free to make their own sartorial choices as a form of gender expression, maybe what Céline fails to realize is that she needn’t bother preaching to the already converted clientele that would plunk down $161 for a “Half and Half Coat.”
Continuing with her crusade to convince outdated parents that they need to get with it, she adds, “We? Miss the past. They? Dream of tomorrow. We may thrust them forward into the future. But the course will always be theirs to choose.” And what she wants you to realize that choice will include is so-called genderless fashions (though what’s genderless about a skull? It’s a symbol of death–are we only really able to achieve a lack of sex identity through dying?) from Célinununu.
Repeatedly insisting, “I’m Céline Dion” as her excuse for creating a new world order of genderlessness by blowing black “fairy dust” (for all intents and purposes) into the stirring, gender-divided babies’ beds (or are they incubators–or is that too disgusting/intense of a word?), Our Lady of the Genderless Kids’ Clothing crusade is ultimately apprehended by two security guards, one of which balks at her insistence upon owning the female identity of Céline Dion by retorting, “Yeah, and I’m Beyoncé”–who, mark my words, will be the next to join in on the trend with Blue Ivy as her co-designer (“designer” being a word used to loosely mean pointing at fabrics and delegating).
So while Céline may have gotten caught for her eradication of blues and pinks as a means to differentiate boys from girls, she still managed to leave her genderless imprint at the hospital. Because you’ve got to get your clients while they’re young if you want to affect them later on in life with your other now side projects, like music.
