How to be a male diva (“the divo”)

Plus:

• Are we not men? We are divo.: NYC’s biggest male divas can be divided by type—and traced back to an exemplar of the form.
• The divo rules: Follow these guidelines and you’ll soon be getting special treatment and mad access.
• The divo: inside
• Divo VS Diva
• “Do you know who I am?”: A writer takes a divo test-drive, swanning about town to see what the timeless question will get him.

If there’s one thing we can learn from the image of oily scion Brandon Davis yelling “firecrotch!” 13 times in that video making the web rounds, it’s that the male diva, a.k.a the divo—that impatient, demanding, entitled he-beast—is enjoying a cultural moment. Especially in New York, men who wield the threat of creating a scene are multiplying. They’re the ones strutting to the front of a nightclub line while you wait meekly. At the finest restaurants, they’re sending bottles back with a dismissive flick of the wrist while you worry over which fork to use. At the hottest openings, premieres and parties, they’re the ones improbably mixing with the boldface names (or they are the boldface names). The divo doesn’t so much gain access as take it.

The true mark of a divo isn’t bad behavior, though. It’s attitude. The divo takes himself very seriously; his core is a roiling soup of narcissism peppered with dashes of insecurity, ambition and competitiveness. In some measure, these traits aren’t all bad. But the divo’s inner makeup is out of balance (see “The divo: inside,” page 24). He’s constantly suspicious that he’s not getting his due, so he stands sentinel for himself, ready to crack open a can of verbal whoop-ass on the poor schmuck fitting him for shoes or handing out gift bags.

We civilians can learn from the divo. Because he decided he can, he’s living the high life while we’re waiting for permission. Screw that: It’s cultural looting time. Are you just gonna grab some Band-Aids and toilet paper? Hell no! Follow “The divo rules” (see page 23) and shake the place down for everything it’s worth.—Alison Rosen