Jordan Fox says “I’m drunk enough to get nude for you”. And it’s like the world stops. She slips out of her sheer black tank and unclasps her bra. I can’t tell whether she stepped out of a ’90s Versace campaign or a Tamara de Lempicka painting. Only a year on hormones, her metamorphosis from sensual super twink to statuesque siren is paralyzing.
Jordan Fox, once a nice Canadian boy in bloody Ronald McDonald drag, took a fateful walk on the wild side all the way to New York City. The town has never been the same, it has been Fox’s own kingdom for the better part of a decade. And so when Jordan Fox says, “I’m moving back to Montreal in January,” it’s like the world stops. Jordan Fox says, “I’ve done it, I’ve done it all! Everything I set out to do. To conquer this city. I did it in Montreal and I did it here. Everything: modeling, performance, nightlife. There’s nothing left. I want to be legal!
“It’s like, your first year on hormones you just want to focus on that, looking natural, passing, growing your hair out and then you start to care about surgeries, you know, bigger breasts, little touches on your face. And you start to care about becoming legal. Getting your passport: a female passport, a female ID. I want to see the whole world, I want to walk into an airport with my head held high, feeling beautiful, and showing them my passport without fear, so they look at me and they look at my documentation and it’s ALL FEMALE. It doesn’t say male, they’re not looking at that and looking at me and being confused, they’re not clocking me. That’s what’s important to me. Not parties. Not the ‘glamour.’ ”
Jordan Fox sits at her vanity. When she looks in the mirror, she doesn’t just see her face, her body: she sees beyond, inside, she sees the woman the future holds for her. Little reminders are stuck along the side of the mirror: Scarlett Johansson, Gisele Bundchen. For Jordan has realized, after stunning forays in collage and performance and spoken word, that gender is her true art. “I’m creating myself. It’s the hardest thing, feeling different on the inside, and then you start taking the hormones and you don’t just feel different but you are different, now on the inside you are a woman. And it’s so hard to feel it and know it, and for everyone else not to see it.”
She starts to tear up, her gooey Disney princess eyes filled with emotion, conviction. Rare vulnerability, flashing. “But this is it. I’m not ashamed. It used to be very private. You hear about so many girls, their friends say ‘Oh I knew her, I knew her when’. ‘When’. When she was a boy. And it’s all hush hush, the pictures of her before her transition. But not me. I’m showing you the entire process. Start to finish. Pictures every moment. I’m not scared of someone seeing pictures of me on Facebook from before, I’m not scared of some guy I’m dating finding out I used to be a guy from the internet. Listen honey, it’s a part of me. That’s who I was. That’s my journey. This is my art.”
Jordan Fox has had many incarnations: neon starlet, downtown clown, succubus in a cocktail dress. It seems that she has always been transitioning, from one over the top look to the next; from wild club kid to sensible adult; from boy to man to woman. From Montreal to New York and Montreal again, returning a stronger, more experienced soul, a true gender warrior, the Myra Breckenridge of our time. She is transitioning in mind, in body, in spirit, in geography. I ask her if she will return to New York, after her legality is sorted out, she says no, the next stop is Australia. Then London, Berlin. The truth is, she is too big a star for New York. Too big a star to stay in one place for too long. Because every room she is in feels too small, not big enough to contain her goddess energy, and us mortals are unworthy to soak in her light.
And so when Jordan Fox says she’s going to take off her clothes, when Jordan Fox says she’s hurting but feeling strong, when Jordan Fox says she’s never coming back, when Jordan Fox says anything at all, it’s like the world stops.