Before the five divine spirits of the Queer Eye makeover crew whooshed into his life, the 47-year-old Joey Greene didn’t regularly bathe, cut his hair, buy clothes, cook meals, or deal with the fridge stench described as resembling rotten chicken carcasses that had been eaten and then excreted by a skunk. The director of a summer camp for kids, Greene lived out of a deteriorating RV and barely used his work-appointed cabin. “It’s just never been a big deal for me to take care of myself, because I have what I need,” he explains.
“What’s wrong with wanting something that you just want, not that you need?” replies Tan France, the clothes guy.
“The way I grew up, I got it in the back of my head that that was selfish.”
Greene’s take on humility might seem radical, but similar sentiments echo throughout Queer Eye’s third season. By now, viewers are well acquainted with the telegenic stars of Netflix’s hit reboot, their ability to offer not only haircuts but also therapy, and their interest in polishing up not only straight guys but also schlubs of all varieties. Yet the show’s relocation from Atlanta to Kansas City, Missouri, has turned up a fresh and motley slate of domestic crises. A camo-wearing prison guard who wouldn’t mind femming up her wardrobe, two sweat-shellacked barbecue pitmasters, a lesbian who’s been rejected by her parents, and a slew of beleaguered dads—one about to be married, one expecting a baby, one grieving his wife’s death—are among the targets. Each receives eerily similar advice. Ask for help. Take time for yourself.