Gok Wan, the flamboyant host of British makeover show How to look Good Naked returns with a new programme, Gok's Fashion Fix, in which he tells us how to dress better in between invading the occasional celebrity wardrobe...
I became Britain's sweetheart because I'm a safe gay. I'm non-intrusive.
I worry about everything before it's happened - that's [from] my dad; I have an innate ability to tap into people's emotions - that's [from] my mum. I'm an outrageously bossy bitch, which comes from my sister and I'vegot a real naughty side, from my brother. I'm basically an amalgamation of my family. There's very little Gok in there.
I came from a social housing estate in the 80s which was predominantly black, white or Indian. Being Chinese-mixed race we instantly stuck out. But I was too busy trying to be the life and soul - the big, happy, fat character who wanted to be fat, wanted to be gay and wanted to be mixed race - to discuss being bullied with anyone.
I haven't really had any bad experiences coming out. No one's ever rejected me. There was me, running around in a sarong at the age of 16 - they probably knew.
I miss my anonymity every single day of my life. Three times a day, after every meal. People think you go home and be a celeb, sipping Laurent-Perrier and listening to classical music. You don't. You go home and wash some pants in the sink.
I'm still nowhere near a presenter. I go in there and blag it, just crack as many jokes as possible to paper over the cracks.
I'm probably one of the worst dressers I know. Of all my friends, I'm the only one that hasn't dragged up. If I thought I'd be a stunner I would do it, but I have got the most unbelievably unusual face - which is great, and I'm very proud of it - but it's not a great face for makeup.
I'm not anti-surgery. What I'm against is women being told that they've got one option and that unless you have it sucked, pinned, tucked and tightened you aren't a woman, you're not sexy or you're never going to be successful.
I'd be a liar if I didn't say the first thing I notice about a person is their clothes.
It's gorgeous out there - life is for the picking. Enjoy the sunshine, enjoy the shops, enjoy holidays, enjoy work. Don't let your body hold you back, because there's actually quite a lot of fun to be had.
All my superstitions are Chinese because my dad drummed it into us. My money plant is my biggest anxiety. The minute it starts dying I think: I've got to ring the bank - someone must've nicked my credit card.
I wash my car three times a week, but I only drive it once.
The only trouble I get is from pissed blokes on a Friday night shouting: "You queer, you faggot, you bent bastard", which is fine and I can cope with all of that, but when I turn round and say "Come on then, big man" they literally peg it, because they don't expect the gay guy from TV to be able to look after himself.
I want a restaurant, I want to have my own charity, I want to open a styling school - there's a million things. I feel like an 18-year-old on an internship. I don't think it's really started at all.
