Monthly Archives:

January 2016

The Season of Citrus, and Accompanying Fragrance

Presenting the amber mandarin glow of a recent Hermes fragrance acquisition: this is Eau de mandarine ambre, a fitting number for the height of citrus season. It’s a deeper take on the mandarin orange, thanks to its amber aspect, and one that works better in the winter than the lighter and more fleeting orange scents that make-up much of my summer cologne arsenal. The fact remains, however, that a true citrus fragrance is not meant to last. Their very nature indicates a delicate, and quick to fade, timeline. Anything that goes beyond that carries a chemical taint that should only be found in cleaning products and urinals. Certainly nothing that belongs in the rarefied air of Hermes.

It took me a while to come around to this one. Initial try-outs left me unimpressed, precisely because I was expecting that pop of a freshly-peeled orange. This isn’t that kind of sun-kissed fizz. It burns slowly, it doesn’t explode. It smolders, never rages. It is a surprisingly potent charm against winter, one that I’d almost forgotten about, having relegated it to fall fragrance status a few months ago and not thinking to revisit until we received a crate of Florida oranges from Aunt Elaine. There’s just something about citrus in winter that makes one’s outlook a little brighter, whether you eat it, wear it, or peel it in your deliciously sticky hands.

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A Banging Brunch at Boston Chops

Boston Chops is one of my favorite restaurants in that fine city, but until a few weekends ago, I’d never tried them for brunch. Having passed it on Sunday mornings many times, I always filed it away as something I’d get around to doing, but never did. I finally broke such an egregious habit and came away with a new favorite brunch spot.

The fun and funky music in the background (everything from current radio fare to 90’s classics) had a few servers discreetly shaking their groove thangs, and whenever I see employees having fun at their jobs it makes the dining experience ten times better. The seriously competent and seriously fun staff make this brunch experience a memorably enjoyable one, from the greeting host to the team of servers who never let the glasses of water dip below half-full. But who needs water with all the Bloody Mary selections on the menu? The biggest dilemma of the morning was trying to whittle down the choices to one, but I decided on the Pickled Mary – with pickled asparagus, green beans, frog balls and cornichons – with a promise to myself to return to try the others another day. (The Prime Raw Bloody and its oyster and jumbo cocktail shrimp sounded especially tantalizing.)

A sweet surprise arrived in the form of this insanely good dish of sweet rolls, which would be reason alone to come back every Sunday, and brave any sort of snowstorm to do so. These are, I imagine, what crack must be life – addictive, mind-blowing, and impossible to refuse. We are them in furiously quick and rude fashion and didn’t even care what we looked like. That’s what brunch is about.

The Croque Monsieur, served with a thrillingly ample portion of their famous frites and a small arugula salad, was heaven-sent for a less-than-sunny Sunday, taking the chill off with grilled perfection and ridiculously rich goodness. Next time I’ll try their Kale Omelet if I’m feeling extra good, the Eggs Benedict if I’m feeling like myself, or the Fried Chicken if I’m feeling especially sinful.

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Tom Daley’s Speedo at Bursting Point

It’s been a while since Mr. Daley has graced these pages with his Speedo-clad package, so let us rectify that immediately.  Here he is in training for this summer’s upcoming Olympics, a celebration in Rio of all things tunga. The summer Olympics are always filled with more flesh than their winter counterpart, for obvious reasons, and this year looks to be overflowing with skin-baring suits and men and women at their physical prime. Tom Daley certainly fits that fitter-than-fit bill.

While the figure skaters are having their winter’s day, upcoming Hunks will include members of the US Gymnastics Team in preparation for this summer’s big events. There will be swimmers and divers too, and Michael Phelps might even squeeze himself into a onesie again. All good things to those who wait.

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Flower Show Dreams

Right around this time of the year, my heart starts stirring for something green and colorful, while my nose searches for the perfume that only a flower in full bloom can produce. Supermarket finds of daffodils and hyacinths appease the restless yearning, but they are temporary and fleeting fixes, and the forced nature of their blooming results in an inferior product. Nothing can match the simple majesty of a bulb blossom culled in natural time from the ground up, fed by melting snow and the first warm spring breeze. Still, they are better than nothing, and will have to do until the flower shows start opening in a month or two.

For this featured photo, I present a wall hanging found on a holiday jaunt through Saratoga. In the back of some gift shop, it caught the light and drew all eyes towards its colorful composition in multi-dimensional form. If you can put the dirty snow and smell of cold exhaust from your mind, if you can push away the scent of wet wool and rubber soles drying over radiators, you can picture the fields of flowers that may have inspired this piece.

The beauty of art – even in its simplest and most raw form – is that it can take you out of the depths of winter. On the day before the last day of January, I can’t think of anything more powerful than that.

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Candlelit Stormwatch

The sky is that sickening shade of gray, portending something ferocious and massive. It rolls in slowly, setting up for the long haul, and there is surely something to be said for the calm before the storm. It’s a strange calm, though, one riddled with tension and excitement: impending doom and impending thrill all at once.

If you’re lucky, you have somewhere safe to see it through, some mostly impenetrable fortress where the strongest gusts of wind may only rattle and moan, but the cold and the damp stays at bay until it passes. I’m lucky.  Our place in Boston – at the end of a line of brownstones – is such a refuge, and it’s seen me through a number of storms. The heavy brick walls, and the ideal second floor location – raised from the ground, but still buffered by another floor above – lend it a cozy feel. During times of inclement weather, it is a safe haven.

In the window, a candle flickers, undulating with the subtle shifting of air. No matter how hard the wind blows from outside, it will not go out. No matter how much snow falls from above, it will keep a steady light. In our relatively small condo, it also provides a source of heat. Do not underestimate the power of this.

In my first winter there, before there were any curtains or stockpile of heavy blankets, I filled the bedroom with a multitude of tea-lights, and was pleasantly surprised by the heat they gave off. In addition to the soft, glowing light, they soon filled the space with their gentle heat. It is one of my warmest memories, in a sea of such warmth, and I think of that every time I light a candle now.

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A New Fashion Muse: Edward Marler

Step aside, Andre Leon Talley and Hamish Bowles – there’s a new style arbiter in town, and he’s looking fine. His name is Edward Marler and he is my new inspiration. I worship and adore the guy. At a moment when the winter doldrums have just begun to drag us all down, he is a bright bit of sparkle in the gray season, a daringly dashing fashion designer who serves to lift everything a bit more.

As evidenced by my many questionable ensembles over the years, I have more respect for those who march to their own markers of fashion and style, the ones who take the risk to break the rules and try something new. I appreciate someone willing to execute an effect rather than the perfectly-made suit or standard-issue trouser. The ones who defy the traditional and the tried, who go beyond the expected and above the standard.

It’s a dangerous place to be, particularly if you venture there on the regular. Too often the failures are disastrously epic, because when you shoot that high and off the mark, the odds of catastrophe are perpetually in your favor. You must court such ridicule, however, to reach something extraordinary. Sometimes merely making the effort tugs at my heart, as is the case with the enchanting Marler.

His style won’t be to everyone’s taste, and as much as I adore it there are those who will roll their eyes and cry criminal. That kind of close-minded judgement has no place on this blog, so we will be nothing but celebratory about Mr. Marler and his extravagantly-woven yarns. With a penchant for crowns, a mishmash of decadent debris pieced together in uncanny yet elegant style, the total effect is much more than the sum of its parts. On the gender-bending cusp of the future, Marler uses his designs to make his own mark on the world.

“I just like the fact that the way you dress completely changes people’s opinion of you. It can make you fit in or it can make you different from everyone else. I’m not clever academically or really good-looking so I use clothes instead.” ~ Edward Marler

Fun, irreverent, funky and whimsical, his hodge-podge manner of combining pieces seemingly at odds with each other lends a tension to his creations, but through his own sheer genius and brilliance they come together in unexpectedly gorgeous alchemy. He also shares a similar obsession with the delusional grandeur that those of us who play dress up often employ. His crowns hint at pomp and stateliness, while the shabby mis-matched pairings underline the street-urchin scrappiness that gives his work a worldly edge. Those juxtapositions thrill me, and I’m clearly not the only one, as much of the fashion world is falling at his jewel-encrusted feet.

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Cherry Necklace, Bygone Heart

A string of cherries worn around the neck.

A vague attempt at recapturing some age of innocence.

Some cheap costume notion, made of plastic but no less shiny or statement-inducing.

Reminiscent of a time that’s probably only more innocent in our minds.

People were bad in the 1950’s too, they just didn’t talk about it as much. It was shuffled away in a billowing skirt and a wrist of colorful baubles. Drowned in Manhattans and martinis – smaller in size, perhaps, but more plentiful in number. It only feels different. The numbness goes back centuries.

If there wasn’t purity in those cherries, there was some small bit of power. The power of prettiness. The currency of being cute. The exchanges we barter for beauty.

Oh, this silly thing? Why, thank you. I found it at a vintage shop. It was a palm of pennies! How could I refuse? It makes me happy, if only for a moment. What else is there? But for those moments…

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Zac Efron’s Naked Ass in Motion

Sometimes when you get home early from work you stumble upon something as golden as these GIFs of Zac Efron and his naked butt. A nude Zac Efron is a sight to behold, especially when he’s shaking his naked booty for all the world to see. Apparently these are from his new movie with Robert DeNiro. No word on whether the latter joins in the nude fun. These scenes were apparently filmed at the same time these almost-nude photos of Mr. Efron were taken.

More Zac Efron naughty bits here.

 

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The Madness of Mercury in Retrograde

Despite the reliance that Norma Desmond and Little Edie Beale placed on astrology, I never really put much faith in it. However, like the events that so often fall under a full moon, there may be something to Mercury in retrograde, as much of the insanity that occurs in life seems to happen during these periods. Here’s a bit of background on the phenomenon. Believe what you want to believe, I’m just happy that this recent retrograde is over.

“Sometimes the other planets appear to be traveling backward through the zodiac; this is an illusion. We call this illusion retrograde motion. Several times a year, it appears as if Mercury is going backwards. This time was traditionally associated with confusions, delay, and frustration.

Perhaps Mercury’s retrograde periods can cause our plans to go awry. However, this is an excellent time to reflect on the past. Intuition is high during these periods, and coincidences can be extraordinary.

The planet Mercury rules communication, travel, contracts, automobiles, and such. So, when Mercury is retrograde, remain flexible, allow time for extra travel, and avoid signing contracts. Review projects and plans at these times, but wait until Mercury is direct again to make any final decisions.

About a week or two before Mercury retrogrades, finish any tasks or projects at hand.  You can’t stop your life, but plan ahead, have back-up plans, and be prepared for angrier people and miscommunication.

Some people blame Mercury retrograde for bad things that happen in their lives. Instead, take this time to sit back and review where you put your energy in your life. Take a moment to reflect.”

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A Recap to End the Retrograde

Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, please let this recent retrograde motion of Mercury end, and let it end with me. Today is supposedly the day things calm down a bit after that tumultuous bit of planetary movement, and whether or not you believe in such things, the world has gone a little bit around the bend these last few weeks.

At such times, and particularly at this time of the year, I get the itch to wash things clean, and begin anew. No better way to restart the engine than with the Mistress of Chameleonic Motion, Madonna.

Andy went on the radio to talk about his greatest passion: cars. Surprisingly, aside from a ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’ break and a quick shower, I mostly listened. (They hooked me with Madonna’s ‘Body Shop.’)

It became a little harder to hear this week, with all the wind and snow, but the first whispers of spring were in the air (even if it was all so much wishful thinking).

Glass magic, optical trickery, and sleights of sight.

An eclectic collection of Hunks was comprised by Marwan Kenzari, Johnny V, Adrian De Berardinis, Adam  Driver, Sebastian Swiatek, & James Haskell (seen above and below).

A lazy Sunday got a sexy sort of make-over, not just once, but twice.

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Sexy Sunday Shots – Part II

Our lazy parade of sexy Sunday shots continues with this post, whereby things heat up with another collection of shirtless (and occasionally pants-less) gentlemen. Collections of shirtless male celebrities, and naked male celebrities, are nothing new here, but they are very much loved, so let the love shine.

We begin with the almost-naked body of Tom Daley.

The Olympics always afford the best in physical forms, such as the impeccable attributes of James Ellington.

It’s lame to lump male models into a single category, so let’s shine a separate spotlight on Ben Hunt, Juan Betancourt, Ryan Paevey, Josh Button, Ryan Bertroche, and Choi Ho Jin.

Another Olympian, from the Winter Games, this is Evan Lysacek.

A gay-themed movie put Marco Dapper on the map, and his naked body kept him there.

Harry Judd has become a favorite here, thanks to nude romps like this.

At the very beginning of a healthy run of underwear-clad posts, Dan Osborne had his first Hunk of the Day honor here.

The word ‘epic’ gets overused, but it’s the only one that encompasses two-time Hunk of the Day Todd Sanfield. It also works well for Nick Bateman and this glorious post.

When Hunks unite, it’s a sight to behold.

One last male model to close out this sexy Sunday: this is Justin Clynes in wet briefs. The End.

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Sexy Sunday Shots – Part I

On this crazy Sunday, I’m taking the easy way out and posting this two-part collection of fine male specimens who have graced this blog with their beauty over the years. You can amass your own collection of favorites by conducting a search for your favorite male celebrity and seeing if he has been honored as a Hunk of the Day (or just some random eye candy). As always, requests are appreciated and more often than not speedily honored. As for other delectable morsels, let’s begin with Reichen Lehmkuhl, whose assets have been splayed across television screens and magazines the world over.

The holidays have long since passed from my mind, but these two sexy Santas remain: Austin Drage and Stuart Pilkington.

For those Bond-lovers out there, or just the Daniel Craig lovers out there, here you go.

Questionable behavior notwithstanding, Robin Thicke had his day in the Hunk-light.

Before he dropped trou in ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’, Jamie Dornan was a Hunk of the Day, thanks to his male modeling poses.

Gay YouTube sensation Davey Wavey makes some namesakes in this post.

A perennial favorite, this was Alex Minsky’s first Hunk of the Day honor.

The busting briefs of Eliad Cohen shall surely keep somebody warm.

Singer and booty-shaker Will Sabin knows how to work it.

Finally, we close out this first post with Zac Efron, the finest closer there could be.

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False Windows, True Reflections

Above, the sky appears to open up beyond gates of gold. A luscious cloud-cover that could only be conjured from a can of paint and a cacophony of creative brushstrokes. Bordered by the baroque framework and gilded glory of a past not quite ready to fade, the sky looks like an arched afterthought. The wandering eye could get lost amid such treasures, seeking out what is beyond, only to meet destruction, or at the very least a certain soreness, upon colliding with cement. The tricks and the artifice only possible with expectation.

I live for these jarring moments when reality is skewed, or slightly questioned, when what seems real is no more than a dream or a mirage. The result of a joint effort of wishful thinking and suggested possibility; the will to believe can fill in the most questionable of blanks. For the most part, the mind works this way because it’s a system that, well, works. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, what we see is what we get. But for that one time when it isn’t, it feels like the universe is winking at me. I love that feeling. A shared moment of mischief. The sudden glimpse of the Trickster. An instantaneous shifting of the ground you thought was stable. Little earthquakes of consciousness.

Mercury’s retrograde madness… it runs on and on and on and on

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Best Waylaid Plans

This weekend The Delusional Grandeur Tour is scheduled to hit Cape Cod, but apparently so is a Nor’Easter because God forbid I get away this winter. As such, a contingency plan has been put into effect, with provisions being laid up in Boston in case I can’t make it out of that fair city. (I will get there on or before Friday, depending on the weather trajectory – the trick will be getting to the Cape in the event of a major snowstorm.) I’ve weathered many snowy times in Boston, and the condo is always a cozy place to do so, and if I can’t make it to the Cape we will simply re-schedule.

My fingers remain crossed, however, despite Mercury continuing its debilitating retrograde motion (hanging on until the 25th!) At the time of this writing, it’s too soon to tell which way the tide will turn. Hang on, little tomatoes, hang tight to the vine – at least until the scent of spring is in the air again.

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Listening for Spring from the Parrot’s Beak

It’s too early to hear it, and until this week we’ve had no real reason to miss it, but when those icy winds started wailing again, I realized that whatever faint whisper of spring had sounded in my ear was gone. Our traditional January thaw took place for much of the first half of the month, so it would be greedy to expect anything like that now. Despite this, the heart longs for that glorious time of the year when we turn the corner from winter. It’s quite a way off, but today marks one month of winter done. We are a third of the way there, and the days are getting longer.

In celebration of that mini-milestone, here are a few spring-hued flowers that stood pretty sentinel in the lobby of the Taj Hotel on my last visit to Boston. These are parrot tulips, in cream and chartreuse – the simplicity of the color scheme given frilly life by the architectural form of the flower petals. I’ve never grown these myself – they always seemed more suited to cut-flower schemes, and in a yard as limited as ours there is simply no room for such an extravagance. Besides, they’re just the slightest bit too fancy for my taste, which makes them perfectly suited for an elegantly old-school hotel lobby.

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