Why I love George Michael

The songwriter proved to be a unique gift even as a teen, and his soulful voice is going to be desperately missed

I shouted when I learned the news. When his jeans and fringed leather made me realize that design is something for everyone you just want the panache to carry it away since I was four years of age I ‘ve adored the theme of the weeks Crush column. George Michael, gone far too soon in the age of 53, had panache in spades.

I recall that Faith was the very first time I extremely saw him, plus it was enough to fall in love: the designer stubble, the stonewash jeans (that I begged my mom to get me when we were next at M&S), that thick wavy hair, the simple grin. He was wonderful. I understood I would wed George Michael. He’d began life like me, the kid of an immigrant (Greek Cypriot for him; Nigerian for me), but George was clearly unique. His songwriting, already famous when he was a teen, still awes me (Guilty feet have got no beat). And his voice was so soulful, full of a yearning I value more and more.

There was darkness thrown in, also, as he noted on his Desert Island Discs (I endure like crazy but my career constantly only appears to correct itself). But for all of the darkness thrown his way (not least the crass tabloid equating of his sexual orientation with a few kind of moral failing), George stayed generous and humorous (see him in the first Carpool Karaoke guest slot and his masterful manner of poking fun at himself in his cameoin Ricky Gervaiss Extras). He helped me express fear, or yearning, not to mention, love. What a present he was. Im still crying.