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August 2014

As I write this, the Super Moon has risen over the land, and I’ve just spent a Sunday largely by the pool and baking in the sun. I don’t usually do that, but I was engrossed in a book, and sunny summer weekends like this are gifts. There aren’t that many of them left. And in order to squeeze out a few more beautiful moments, I’m going to rush through this recap.

First up was Tom Daley, back in his Speedo and making waves as only he can.

A flower that holds all of the summer in its sky-blue petals.

Family memories old and new, times two.

I made birthday plans, minus Tom Ford, and for the first time ever I’ll be spending my special day in New York City.

A lust for lavender, even when feeling feisty.

It’s all in the crotch.

As always, summer got a whole lot hotter with guys like Billy Magnussen, Francis Mossman and Trey Songz.

August is here. The month of my birthday is at hand. Remember the time I made up a birthday registry? That was fun. Even if I only got one item on the list. (When the starting price of a gift is $250 you tend to weed out a lot of casual gift-givers. Lesson learned.) Nowadays, I have this convenient Amazon wish list with all the incidental smaller gifts on it – along with several big-ticket items (there are a couple of Tom Ford Private Blends available – not to mention some fantastic art books). For those closer to me who may still be wondering what might tickle my fancy this birthday season, allow me to produce a list more reasonable than the Louis Vuitton items that occupied that first birthday registry in my more hubris-oriented youth.

In rather unprecedented fashion, Tom Ford is not at the top of my wish list this time. Since the Mandarino di Amalfi craze of earlier this summer (a scent so intoxicating I had to run out and purchase it myself) I haven’t found a Private Blend that really called to me. Mandarino’s sister frag, Costa Azzurra, was nice, but doesn’t have the staying power to merit such a hefty price point. Besides, the end of August doesn’t call for a bright summer fragrance. If I were to go for a Tom Ford fragrance, it would be the elusive ‘London’ Private Blend – currently only available in the London flagship store (and perhaps online if one is especially crafty and willing to deal with the steep exchange rate). That may be a wish beyond realistic possibility, but that’s what wishes are.

Without Mr. Ford, that frees up a spot for another fragrance. September is a tricky pocket of time for cologne. The days can be summer-hot, but the nights can be cooler. A little bit of citrus and a little bit of pepper offer a good balance together, but I haven’t had time to determine which scents best exemplify that right now. It may mean a spur-of-the-moment selection (like the Amber Absolute birthday gift from a few years ago). Or it may mean no new fragrance, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Given my love of theater and travel, it seems odd that I’ve never asked for a trip or tickets to a show, but it’s never too late to start a new tradition. And so, in the winding trajectory of this post, I may have talked myself out of a birthday cologne, and into something entirely different. After this year’s Broadway renaissance, a rekindled passion for the Broadway musical may mean that my birthday wish is a weekend in New York. Never in my life did I think I would want to spend my birthday in the city that too often annoys me, but if I can stick to those activities and the spaces that I love, why shouldn’t it be a wonderful time?

So I’m thinking Saturday, August 23 and Sunday, August 24 at the Waldorf Towers or the Standard – two hotels that are quite different, but have each called to me over the years.  I’ve taken that Monday off for the return trip home. A day of shopping on Fifth Avenue, perhaps venturing all the way up to the Tom Ford flagship store, and maybe a walk back through Central Park, and then a show (one of the following four) on the evening we don’t do the fancy dinner:

• Kinky Boots (seen it, but worth seeing again, if only to get Andy’s take on it)
• The Book of Mormon (because, rather blasphemously, I’ve NEVER seen it)
• Bullets Over Broadway (which actually closes on my birthday – hello cosmic hint)
• A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder (perhaps too close-to-home?)

I’m leaning toward ‘Bullets’ as that’s one of our favorite movies, and with a closing date on my birthday I think it may be the one (I’ve never seen a show on its closing date, but I’m guessing that’s a bittersweet and special time).

I looked at La Grenouille for a dinner (it’s one of the places where Truman Capote reportedly entertained his swans), but that was booked the entire weekend so I need to find up with a suitable substitution. Recommendations always welcome. In the meantime, start saving: my Amazon Wish List.

The month of the Virgo is upon us.

It feels blasphemous to say it, but the summer is more than half over, and speeding along at a rate far too fast for my comfort. Let’s stretch it out a bit, slow it down. At times like this, I think back to childhood, to the days when summer seemed to last forever. The beginning of August, before things got too ripe, before the zucchinis were too plump with seeds, held the aspect of endlessness. The roads stretched further then, and they were lined with wild blue chicory and Queen Ann’s lace, neither of which flinched at the heat off the pavement.

Bees and butterflies visited the umbrels of the lace-like blooms, and cicadas screeched into the midday warmth. Only the occasional passing car broke the insects’ spell, but they always resumed their buzzing. It was better when those were the concerns of the day, when the only threat was an encroaching storm-front – and even that held the possibility of toothpick races in the rain, of puddle-jumping and salamander-seeking. The best parts of boyhood might very well take place in the summer.

Every now and then I’ll pass a patch of chicory and Queen Ann’s lace, pausing in the summer sun, and remembering a time when summer was the destination. It seems we’ve arrived again. Let’s make it last.

In case you haven’t noticed (and a few of you complainers most certainly did, thanks so much) things have been a bit light here as far as content and posts go. To that I say, ‘Tough titties,’ because it’s summer and I’d rather be floating in the pool or working on the new project than tethered to a lap-top that burns right into my crotch. Save those warm willies for when the winter comes back. I’m out. Check back in the fall if you want something serious. In the meantime, naked guys, shirtless guys, bulging guys, and lazy-ass posts like this one. Sing along with me…

My birthday month is finally here! Not to worry, it’s not until the 24th, but start saving those paychecks because I’m putting up the official birthday wish list very shortly. What? You came to a website named ALANILAGAN.com and expected to find anything other than hubris? Move along, move along. Before we get into all of that fun, however, a look back at the last week of July, which came and went awfully quickly. Too quickly. We need to slow this summer down.

The rain returned, though it was not wholly unwelcome.

You know what they say about big ears.

A favorite summer pastime: the adventure movie.

Another favorite pastime: feasting on man candy using only your eyes.

A summer song, for putting a capital ‘F’ in it.

An Ilagan Family Portrait.

What’s your rush? You’re missing all the flowers…

Last but certainly not least, the parade of Hunks flew its bright shirtless banner in the well-toned forms of Chris Pratt, Diego Miguel, James Whiteside, Mark Mackillop, Chase Finlay, James Magnussen, and John Barrowman.