The Bumbys are a masked, anonymous, be-wigged pair who make a living going to events and critiquing peoples’ appearance. I can’t decide if this is totally modern, oddly 18th Century, or just Kafkaesque.
You have an Izzy Blow – but non-suicidal – super pretty face vibe. Your look is killing it today. The way I picture you is in Lula magazine, floating on a sea of chiffon and blowing bubbles in a rainstorm. Turbans equal difficult-to-pull-off, but today, and probably usually, you are a queen of awesome.
Said one enthusiast of their appeal,
I decided it was the most genius party diversion ever…It’s like a lazy, social person’s equivalent to a fair ride: There’s a grain of fear (will they think I’m stylish?), a dash of entertainment (the comments are often very perceptive and funny), and there’s a communal experience (‘Ooh, what did they say about you?’). It’s a lovely intersection of fashion, art, and low-impact party-going.
And in case you are wondering, the assessments tend to be flattering — or at least politic. As Gill Bumby (the male half of the pair) puts it, “I don’t ever want this to be a mean, hurtful thing. I’m not interested in tearing someone down. Where’s the art in that?”
In case you’re also wondering, no, the pair don’t have any “expertise,” per se — just a way with words, a good eye, and a better gimmick. The dude used to be a trader. Back in ’07, he used to sit on the street and type out his critiques for a few dollars. It seemed sort of performance art-y, playing with ideas of self-perception, critique, superficiality and anonymity — and all the time you wondered if maybe, in fact, it wasn’t any of that — but there was no sign it would catch the fickle fancy of the beau monde.
But in a way, it makes total sense. It’s like a distillation of all the reasons we like Twitter and Facebook and Myspace and YouTube, rolled into one lo-fi package. Aren’t all those media different ways of presenting ourselves to the world — to strangers — as we’d like to be seen? And the fact that this forces you to admit you want to know is kind of the most insidious part — and the part that makes it particularly, unironically well-suited to fashion events. It’s admitting you care what two random, anonymous strangers think. Care a lot.
That said, while I admire the concept, I’ve never been “Bumby’d,” as it’s known. I saw them holding court at an event once and ran in the opposite direction — we’re all judged enough without inviting it, was my thinking, I think, plus I probably looked crummy. That said, for some, maybe controlling the judgment is half the point? Maybe that’s what they’re really paying for.
Don’t Judge Us, We’ll Judge You [NY Times]
Vanity Fair [Time Out New York]
