The Bunny of our dreams. You have heard of him, and the stories make you want to be part of his life… or at least at the same party. Well this may be the closest you’ll get to his party: a snack about how the fuck he ended up as the legendary Blue Bunny.

Written by: Amanda Sandström Beijer

Photo: Lamia Karic

We enter his apartment and it is big. His bedroom is the size of my entire apartment, but with less stuff. It is spacious, but you can tell there is an artist living there. His own art hangs on the walls: a series he photographed of gay and lesbian performers holding the pink triangle symbol from the Holocaust, a reference to history protesting ongoing violent homophobia (www.lovegaypeople.com). The toilet seat is glittery, there is a disco ball outside his door and the wardrobe is filled with glamorous bunny suits in different styles, sewn by hand by the Bunny himself.

“When I first moved to Berlin seven years ago, I had never been here before and I looked down from the plane at the TV tower and I thought, ‘What the hell is a giant mosque doing in the middle of the city?’ That’s how much I knew about Berlin.”

He is raised in Queens, New York and has a college degree that he’s never used. Scotty the Blue Bunny is famous for having one of the wittiest brains in Berlin. Spreading love and sharp irony about those who surround him as regularly as he spreads his self-deprecating humor both on and off the stage at the beautiful burlesque bar Zum Starken August.

Photo: Lamia Karic

His life abroad did not start in Germany, but in Sweden, with his heart in his throat and an idea of living the 15th century dream. Being the star guest at the Hootchy Kootchy Club at Södra Teatern, Stockholm, he was filled with expectations. Already a big name, he started touring with rap artist Mapei throughout Sweden. But things did not go as imagined.

“The response on the tour was not what one could expect as a star. And for a person who every day is waiting for Madonna to call, I had a lot of anxiety around the project and needed to heal after this disaster.”

Though he did have some moments of glory in the North, like the time he partied so hard at Berns Hotel he found himself being carried naked from the dance floor by some guards who were afraid he would get glass in his feet.

“Going back to New York I probably should have gone to recover at my parent’s but ended up going to San Francisco instead. Even though I would get gigs in Stockholm and went back often. Since having the dream as an American, to live abroad, this was the adventure.”