Words and Interview by Cat Lewis
Fashion stylist, drag artist, DJ, and host of some of London’s hottest queer parties, Airy Something can be seen dressed like a goddess while playing epic mixes. The vibe they bring is joy-filled, energising, and expansive.
But their life now is a sharp contrast to how they grew up—Airy Something’s childhood was spent in a Christian fundamentalist community where modern music, popular culture, fashion and clubbing were deemed sinful. Taking part in any of it would be a one-way ticket to hell.
What’s the Airy Something story?
“In 1977, my parents joined a community of Christian fundamentalists. I was born into it,” Airy says. “The rules were strict, with tenets we had to live by. While everyone else was wearing Kylie Minogue t-shirts, I was in t-bar sandals and long shorts. Hair cut short, side parting only.”
My Mum is a royalist. She dressed me in clothes that made me look like Prince Harry. It was quite the look.
Airy goes on: “Other members of this community lived nearby. Our homes were scattered throughout a series of villages, among people who mostly lived secular lives. My parents took me to religious gatherings in living rooms and community halls, but I also attended a regular state school, which was really helpful. My mind was so warped by this alternative reality they’d created for us. Honestly, if I hadn’t gone to a regular school, I’d still be in it.”
TV was sinful. I told kids at school they were going to hell for having one, and meant it. Popular music was banned, too. If it had rhythm, it was a no-go. So I grew up on classical music, church hymns, the odd Disney musical, and a lot of organ, although the only organs I fuck with these days have a blood supply.
With popular music banned, Airy Something developed a photographic memory for the snippets of secular culture they’d get out and about. Developing this skill meant they’d have stuff to talk to other kids at school about.
Tell me about Christian fundamentalism.
Fundamentalism emerged in the late 19th century as a response to modernist thought and liberal theological trends. At just over 125 years old, it strikes me as a very young church edging into cult territory. I wonder at the legitimacy of it all.
Airy weighs in:
“Is there a legit church? There were all kinds of messiahs at the time Jesus was popping off. A Roman emperor picked one, spread it through Europe, and Europe colonised the world. Cult plus time equals religion. That’s all there is to it.”
How did you escape all that?
In Derbyshire, in the East Midlands of England, Airy grew up culturally isolated and terrified of the “real world” that they’d see at school.
Modern rhythms, popular culture and any musical innovations were deemed sinful and went against the beliefs of a Christian community holding tightly to traditional doctrine.
Airy and I discuss the inner workings of the community, and the super Jesus-y, misogynistic behaviours rife with this type of life.
I was told constantly how modern music is evil, that satan and demons will come after me for this sin. But then, I was also being taught a formal education. I had no idea who or what to trust.
As with other groups like this, it had the usual charismatic leader. Airy describes how the leader would highlight whichever bits of the Bible helped conjure terror and ecstasy; it seemed confusion was key to control—and how expertly he’d manipulate the Bible to affirm the congregation’s hatred.
As a queer person, not only did Airy grow up under the gaze of hardcore Jesus, but also had Section 28 to contend with.
What was Section 28?
The AIDS crisis was happening. British newspapers like The Daily Mail featured constant, hostile, anti-LGBTQIA+ headlines.
Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister at that time, introduced Section 28, one of the Conservatives’ most infamous pieces of legislation.
On paper, the law banned local authorities from “promoting homosexuality” in schools and public spaces. In practice, it meant teachers couldn’t talk about LGBTQ+ lives in a positive light, leaving queer kids with zero representation or support.
Queer identity was seen as something unspeakable, and areas of the British countryside like Derbyshire had little to offer in the way of diversity. From all angles, the weight of dread, doom and evil foreboding bore down on Airy.
“That underlying sense of dread that featured so heavily in my younger years was pointing me in the right direction. I knew I needed to get out of there. I focused on coursework for my GCSEs and A-levels, and after turning 18, I signed up for the Art Foundation at Chesterfield College. The Art Foundation was fast, loose and fabulous. I met two girlies on the course who had a flat, and as soon as they offered me a room, I took it.”
Let’s talk about your school years. What did you study at the Art Foundation?
In the UK, an Art Foundation degree allows you to spend a year trying different creative methods, learning various media, and settling on a specialism you’d like to follow into university.
Airy is a stylish, fashion-forward individual, so I thought they would choose to study textiles.
I was wrong. Every decision Airy made at the time was made to keep themselves safe socially.
I was so deeply in the closet. I probably would have done textiles and fashion at some point, but I was positive it would out me, because it would be too femme. I didn’t want to get rumbled.
Airy settled on graphic design. “And I was good at it.” After their foundation year, they attended Central Saint Martins, a school in London.
What was it like to move to London?
Moving to London was a turning point in Airy’s life. They arrived traumatised but, after years of living in multiple realities and constantly keeping their queer identity hidden, London offered Airy a new lens to look through, and a new life to learn.
“I came out the day I moved to London. I’m a plaster-ripper-offer, so I thought, let me just tell my parents. My brother, who I came out to a couple of days before, brought me down to London and took me to my residence hall. I could see the Tate Modern, which was amazing.”
What was university like?
Airy laughs: “One receptionist, who recognised me, said, ‘They always bring the naughty ones back!’, but I’m not sure I was that naughty. I just wasn’t there much.”
In my first year of university, I went hard on drugs. I was useless and barely attended classes to the point that the course leader wanted to throw me out. Ironically, I now lecture there.
Airy graduated in 2005 and never pursued graphic design professionally. By then, a friend had started a fashion label, and Airy landed a job with them, handling PR, managing press releases, running events, and other activities.
Low pay makes a career in the fashion industry an extremely challenging one to pursue. It’s not unusual for people to hold multiple jobs. Airy was no exception, working in bars alongside an office job, which gave them firsthand insight into the electro-clash-indie era.
“Electro-clash was going off! I was at club nights like NagNag Nag, The Cock, and Trash. The big one for me was Kashpoint. It’s not around anymore, but I remember it vividly. I’d be on the dance floor, and there’d be a performance artist rolling around in a bag, or a random runway show would start in the middle of the club.”
“The music was great,” Airy says. “It was Miss Kittin, Fischerspooner, Felix Da House Cat, Erol Alkan, Soulwax, and all that sort of stuff.”
How did you start DJing?
Airy made money with bar work. As time went on, Airy learned to hustle to support themselves. They were offered a DJ set in 2010. At the time, they were in dire need of cash.
I lied and said I could DJ. I turned up with my friend’s iPod and a janky, old, white plastic MacBook. I had no clue what was even on that iPod. It was ridiculous. Cross-fading everything on iTunes. But, somehow, I managed it. I started getting more DJ bookings, and I decided to learn how to do it properly.
Fifteen years on, Airy knows how to DJ. But unlike many other DJs who love the techie side of it, Airy’s love is driven by the social side of music.
“I can work with any setup. I’m more interested in looking around the room, seeing who’s here, how old people are, where everyone is from, and what everyone is doing. My goal is to get everyone dancing. I just want people to have a nice time.”
What’s the Airy Something sound?
Airy Something sets vary in style and genre, demonstrating their diverse musical knowledge. From every era, they can pick a track and tell me the name, artist, and story behind it, no matter if it’s jazz, house, or techno.
“My route into music was unusual,” Airy says. “My access was so limited; I grew up listening to Gustav Holst, Vivaldi, and Welsh male choirs, but at school, I was allowed to join the orchestra and the swing band. There’s a huge brass-centred culture in the Midlands. Each town had a colliery band, and every school had a brass band. My dad had been in the brass band at school, and with it being such a big cultural thing in that area, it meant I could play brass. I was the second cornet. I was terrible at reading music—I just jammed along and hoped for the best.”
One day, Airy’s dad gave them a cassette tape of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald duets.
“He said, ‘Here’s a cassette for you to listen to. Louis Armstrong is really good on the trumpet. You might learn something.’”
Did jazz influence your passion for music?
It changed their life, Airy says.
Oh, my God! It was jazz, the best thing I’d heard in my life. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was like having warm Baileys poured into my ears. It was remarkable. I’d never heard anything like it. Under the guise of wanting to learn more about orchestral music, I was able to get Billie Holiday, then Glenn Miller. By the age of twelve, I was listening to Duke Ellington and Mahalia Jackson. This music changed my life.
“I’m grateful that the first tape was allowed. It introduced me to so much I would never have known. From jazz, I went on to explore soul, neo-soul, R&B, hip-hop, and post-disco, all the way to house—all very African-American-centred.”
As a musical movement, jazz began in New Orleans in the early 20th century. New Orleans remains home to diverse cultures, including African, French, Spanish, and Creole communities.
The diverse cultures in this city fused multiple musical influences—blues, ragtime, spirituals, and spiralling melodies. West African rhythms, European harmonies, and brass band traditions blended and infused with elements of improvisation, syncopation, and blue notes.
It’s no wonder, then, that Airy’s own musical creations centre heavily on the fusion, mix, and blend of a vast range of music styles.
Nowhere is this more evident than in their mashups.
I love a mash-up. There was a period when everyone was doing them. People remember Sugababes’ ‘Freak Like Me’. No one wrote that; it was a mashup. It was Adina Howard’s 1995 R&B hit ‘Freak Like Me’ with the synthesiser instrumental from Gary Numan and Tubeway Army’s 1979 song ‘Are Friends Electric?’ I use mashups to make my sets bespoke. People will hear things they won’t hear anywhere else.
Let’s talk fashion—it seems central to the Airy Something ethos.
A key feature of Airy’s sets is how they dress. While many drag artists I have seen perform comedy shows, dance, or sing, Airy takes to the DJ booth with a high-fashion-focused, gender-expressive, ornate drag style.
People ask what my drag character is, and I say, ‘I don’t have one. It’s just me, wearing whatever I want and a bit of lippy.’ There’s no character. It’s me as my most lavish self.”
Airy clarifies:
I have not arrived at drag from a theatrical place; my comfort zone is fashion, and I’ve been doing drag my whole life. I treat drag as an art form. It sits at the intersection of my creativity and my gender. It’s where my art and gender blend.
Airy started doing drag after university, when they worked as a stylist.
What were the stylist years like?
“I started doing drag after a huge break from styling. I had a few near-misses with big jobs, and I’m quite sensitive, so I needed some time out, so I left styling and focused completely on DJing.”
After a few years, Airy felt the “itch” to style again, but all the major labels were in Kensington—a long trek to the other side of London.
“That had zero appeal to me. So having spent years styling others, I figured I’d just style myself.”
Airy has no fear of pushing boundaries—their style radiates a deep sense of fashion sophistication.
I’ve always been stylish. Even as a kid, I looked weird and stood out. I just thought, fuck it. Everyone’s looking at me anyway, so I may as well have fun.
Much like their music, Airy takes inspiration from many fashion styles, so I ask:
Do you have a style role model?
Airy’s answer surprises me.
“As much as she could be, my mum was a fashion girlie. She was keen on presentation, handkerchiefs up the sleeve, pressed everything, scrubbed nails and good posture.”
Talking with Airy, I get the idea that giving things a try is always worthwhile—you don’t need a degree or prior experience to try something out. I’m sure there’s something I can learn from Airy about exploring all life’s avenues.
Airy laughs at this:
Honestly, I’m raw-dogging life. I don’t know how anything works. I’m just trying to have a nice time. I wanted to be a stylist, so I became one.
Then, I remember something:
What happened with the fashion brand you first started working with after school?
The start-up label became a success. It hosted several events that were featured in Italian Vogue and Harper’s, giving Airy exposure to working with Rankin, a world-renowned British photographer, and brands such as Punch Drunk Theatre Company, known for their masterful immersive entertainment. It was an experience that Airy describes as “ritzy”.
Other happenings encouraged Airy to develop their skill.
“I lived with Alexis Knox, the former fashion director of Notion magazine. I owe her a debt of gratitude. She’s a prolific stylist who’s now a producer and touring DJ. While living with her, she was incredibly encouraging. She pulled me into Notion. I learned fast there. When she stepped down, I was offered the fashion director position.”
Airy goes on: “I’d also taken on an assistant manager role at a bar that hosted a party called Boombox. This was another ritzy fashion moment. They’d have Kylie Minogue performing, as well as Roisin Murphy. Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss would come. McQueen had parties there. There were MAC parties, and Boombox hosted the McQ launch.”
The promoter of Boombox was a key figure in Airy’s growth. “He had an eye for how the place looked. He’d put cuties on the bar, and one day, he decided I was one of them.”
After one party, Airy had a “lock-in moment” with him.
“He was talking to me, and I explained that I was a writer working for Notion and other magazines. Shortly after that, he introduced me to the editor-in-chief of i-D Magazine. The editor liked the events I was involved in and offered me a role.”
What was working for i-D Magazine like?
Airy says that, back in their hometown of Derby, they were the only person reading i-D.
“The newsagent had to order it for me, and then one day I landed a job with them. It was amazing.”
As time went on, Airy realised they liked writing, but they loved making images even more. They wanted to be a stylist, but typically, a junior has to assist other stylists for years, often unpaid.
“If you don’t have anyone to support you, it can be very challenging,” they say.
“I couldn’t afford to do this assisting route because I was skinny, hungry, and I wasn’t getting an allowance from my family, like many of my peers were. I needed to find a different route, so I pitched a story. The concept was emerging artist interviews. I would find a bunch of artists from major labels who were about to break into the scene, interview them, and do a photoshoot so that I could meet all their management.”
i-D approved it. The photo shoots happened. “I hustled. After that, I started working for major labels, and it all began to snowball.”
What is it like to be a stylist in London?
It gave Airy a new way to express creativity. Every client was different, and the pace of fashion was so fast that there was always someone new to work with.
Airy says the projects took about five days to complete, but the time frame could spread out over months or happen at the last minute. And style briefs could be quite “unique,” Airy says.
“As a stylist, I’m not just dealing with the artists. It’s management, the label, everyone, because essentially, we’re working on a marketing exercise. Especially if it’s an emerging artist, they’ll say, ‘Currently, we’re here, and we want to be here. They look like this, and we want them to appeal to this market. Can you facilitate it?’ With more established brands I’ve worked with, like Fernando Jorge, Paloma Faith, Haim, Ariana Grande, Pull & Bear, Lianne La Havas, Diesel, and so on, they know the brief, and I make it real.”
Airy loves the variety.
“I want to dress everyone. But still, it’s difficult to dress artists who are over a UK size 8-10. The industry still fails bigger bodies. Artists come in all shapes and sizes. You walk into so many VIP dressing sections for women, and everything in there is a UK size 6-8. It’s crazy.”
Writing, music, and fashion—these led Airy home, and were the perfect trifecta for getting where they wanted to be. The sense of self that Airy took from writing at i-D led them to write about their own identity.
All those years happened to me. Every part is part of me. It’s making sense now. It’s coming together.
I ask about Airy’s upcoming project—the most personal work they’ve ever done.
Let’s talk about the novel!
Airy has been writing a book for the last few years—and it’s almost finished.
“It’s so different from writing articles. It was never supposed to be a novel, and certainly wasn’t something I set out to do. What started as a little vignette has ended up as a three-act story.”
I ask if they can share details about it.
“It’s autofiction, set in my worlds in Derbyshire and London,” they tell me. “It’s about a queer kid and their best friend, growing up in a cult. The emotional beats are mine, remixed for the page; it’s very truthful. Everything in the story happened in some way or another, but I’ve moved things around for flow.”
A friend encouraged Airy to apply to the London Library’s Emerging Writers Programme.
“I had no idea what it was. I applied, got accepted, and was invited to the British Library for what I thought would be a basic induction. I’d been running errands all morning, dressed super comfy and casual, with my laundry bag in tow!”
When Airy arrived, they realised they’d made a huge mistake. The event was a champagne reception to celebrate the forty candidates who had been accepted out of thousands of applicants. “What a day!”
A friend helped Airy find an agent, and Airy eventually settled on YMU, a talent agency.
“I got along well with Amanda Harris, who was YMU’s literary director. When she left to start Maven Literary Management, I followed her. She just won Literary Agent of the Year at the British Book Awards. She’s amazing!”
When will the novel be published?
The book is set for release in 2026—seven years in the making. In this time, Airy has supported themselves with styling, DJ sets, drag, and lecturing at Central Saint Martins.
It strikes me that every venture Airy has undertaken has come with hurdles. Now, I wonder about this next hurdle Airy will overcome.
How does it feel to publish such a personal story?
“It’s nerve-wracking, especially given that I’m airing so much dirty laundry. I have one more big decision to make, and that’s the title. When that’s done, I’ll be thinking about releasing it to the wild! My family don’t know anything about it yet, purely because I’m not ready to tell them. But I will be.”
Airy’s story reminds me that freedom often comes from daring to step outside the worlds we’re given—and creating new ones. Their work is committed to creativity and authenticity and is proof that identity, creativity, and joy don’t just survive hardship—they can flourish because of it.
See more at www.airysomething.com, listen to their music on Mixcloud, and follow @airysomething on Instagram so you don’t miss the moment this story comes to life.
Words and Interview: Cat Lewis
Photos: Nigel Glasgow, Anna Brooks
Styling: Linsey Tids
Hair: Anna Morena
Styling Assistance: Marilena Angelides
Makeup: Lily Simmonds
