Harald Glööckler; Prince of Fashion by Nick Bryans
Would anyone notice if Living TV disappeared? How long would it take before you noticed there was a channel missing from your box? Would you sit down one evening and think ‘you know what, I really fancy watching an arbitrary episode of CSI, or America’s Next Top Model’ only for your search to end up ultimately fruitless? So when told to find an odd, late night show to review, I knew that Living would serve up some classic rubbish. Enter Harald Glööckler; Prince of Fashion.
It's like a magic eye; every time you look again you notice something different.
Harald Glööckler is essentially a real life form of Sacha Baron Cohen’s Bruno. A purveyor of extreme fashion that toes the line between parody and delusion. His apartment is awash with a sea of garish mannequins and jewellery. It’s the sort of fashion that would make someone think the whole industry is an inside joke. Like what Tracey Emin’s unmade bed was to the modern art debate; that but with spaghetti straps.
The basic crux of Prince of Fashion is that Harald has outgrown the German fashion industry, and wants to take his ‘look’ to the UK; because he knows that there are plenty of tits in this country that will lap all this shit up. His day is a healthy mix of narcissism with some luxurious excess thrown in for good measure. He goes to a hair salon every morning; for a hair wash. He nips over to the gym for a workout wearing a low lung slung glittery green vest and enough jewellery to make Jimmy Saville wince, then off for a photo-shoot.
Harald however kills the mood slightly later when talking about his dead mother. It’s not so much the fact that his mother died, but the way he recalls the events – his father killing his mother by pushing her down the stairs – with the same reticence and emotional involvement that one would have if describing the weekly shopping list. Simply put; the guy is as mad as a crab’s cock.
Once we’re accustomed with Harald he heads over to London for his catwalk, fashion show thing (you know the deal, models walk up a long strip of carpet with a look of menace on their faces like they’re about to glass you, then walk back. Repeat). Due to his limited time in London he has an express tour of the capital, visiting the major attractions of Battersea Dog Home, The QVC building and a regression therapist. I am sure there’s a reason that the edition of ‘Lonely Planet: London City Guide’ Harald possessed was pulped.
Loves a good tear up
The session with the regressive therapist (as far I can gather it is essentially someone who tries to communicate with your former self) explains some of the eccentricities of Harald’s character. Under hypnosis, Harald states that he believes he is an 18-year-old, God-like being with club foot, who wears orthopaedic shoes and is married to his sister. The 60s were crazy, but that’s taking the piss. The therapist probes further and Harald states that he believes he is the reincarnation of Tutankhamen, and he is making it his life’s work to reclaim all the gold on this earth that is rightfully his. Either this guy needs to be sectioned, or his subconscious has pulled off an epic merk.
Harald’s fashion show starts and the audience – all 20 of them – look incredibly confused, as if the Living TV producers have bussed them in at gunpoint. The models are carbon copies of The Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, and the main room is what I imagine Liza Minnelli’s hallway to look like. The selection of clothes is…well, interesting. Perhaps I’m not the best judge, as I spent most of the time watching the display thinking; ‘You really don’t see fabric lampshades much anymore’. The opinions in the room are split from ‘It reminds me of Vivienne Westwood’ to ‘The dresses were awful! The fabric looked cheap and none of the garments fit!’, so if nothing else it raised debate.
Irrespective of how good the clothes were, how strange Harald was or what exactly a regressive therapist actually is, the one lasting thought I had was this; that was so much more entertaining than Bruno! Seriously, this blew it out the water. Wow; and I mean that.
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The writer if this article is clearly an idiot & a thoroughly nasty small minded little man. For a start there are many good shows on Living which I don’t see the need to justify to an idiot. Yes Harold is different but so what. That doesn’t give you the right to be so judgmental. He is a successful businessman who earns his own money (and gives quite a lot to charity) and he also has many friends. I wonder what a day in the writer’s life would be like? It’s interesting that out of the 7 or 8 positive comments, you choose to write about the only negative comment. Obviously you have had to edit the whole documentary so that it fits with your misguided views. What harm is Harold to anyone, really? What’s wrong with him living his life the way he does? I suggest the writer gets a life.
Not really one for flame warring, but this seems like a reasonably light hearted, slightly cynical review of a programme about a person who goes out of his way to get attention. If one lives life seeking the light of publicity, one shouldn’t moan when it arrives.
As for ‘That doesn’t give you the right to be so judgmental’, this is a correct comment. The fact that we live in a free society that tolerates people like Harald is in fact also what gives the author the right to be judgemental. Really, what harm is Nick Bryans to anyone? What’s wrong with him living his life the way he does? It kind of goes both ways, doesn’t it?
In fact, I suspect that there are a lot of answers about what is wrong with someone like Harald whatsisface living like he does. It is wasteful, expensive, narcissistic and encourages people to spend their time, intellectual energy and money on things that are untterly without meaning. This dress is nicer than that dress does not a solution to the world’s problems make.
At the end of the day, if you go on TV and act in any way at all, including standing absolutely still in a Marks and Spencer suit saying nothing at all, you invite criticism. I mean this in the true sense of the word – a critique. Sometimes it will be positive, sometimes not, but to criticise critics for drawing attention to publicity seekers is like criticising TV channels for broadcasting programmes. It’s what they do.
I suggest the comment writer gets a life.
By the way, good article – haven’t seen the programme of course because it’s on Living, but I enjoyed the piece.
@nickellis374