His Speedo-clad form has graced this blog numerous times in the past, and as the world gears up for the summer Olympics he’s back in the Speedo again, suited up and ready to dive into his first crowning as Dazzler of the Day. This is Tom Daley and he needs no other introduction thanks to posts like this and this and most especially this. He’s been on competitive fire lately, with his diving partner Matty Lee, and the world waits with breathless anticipation for what the pair will bring to the Olympic pool.
“When you hear of Gay Pride, remember, it was not born out of a need to celebrate being gay. It evolved out of our need as human beings to break free of oppression and to exist without being criminalized, pathologized or persecuted. Depending on a number of factors, particularly religion, freeing ourselves from gay shame and coming to self-love and acceptance, can not only be an agonising journey, it can take years. Tragically some don’t make it. Instead of wondering why there isn’t a straight pride be grateful you have never needed one.
Celebrate with us.” ~ Anthony Venn-Brown
With Pride Month in full swing, and a large number of Pride events happenings as the vaccinated among us move more freely than we have in well over a year, I’m taking a moment to be both serious and silly about this special month. Hence these photos, taken so I could update my social media profiles with something more seasonally gay.
Next weekend is when some of the main Pride events are happening in Boston, including Pride Night at Fenway Park with the Red Sox. More often than not, Skip and I would find ourselves there for such an event, and it always thrilled me to see the rainbow flags flying at Fenway and on the Boston Public Library. While we mostly skirted the big parade (we did it properly once) it was good simply to be in town for such celebratory fun. Boston enjoys an electric-like excitement in June, whether from the residual glow of graduations, or the exuberant arrival of summer, or probably a bit of both – and it’s sort of a glorious finale right before the city seeps into its sleepy summer slumber (which I tend to appreciate even more).
On the serious side, all the rainbows and unicorns and fluffy party scenes mask the heartache of the history that we in the LGBTQ+ community have endured and survived – and it’s worth a moment to recognize and remember the many of us who didn’t make it this far. It’s also worth challenging ourselves in analyzing the privilege and distinctions among intersectional groups and individuals within our widely-varied community. We are making progress, but this is a long journey, and it’s largely in its infancy. Let’s keep going, and growing, and learning.
“As a young gay African, I have been conditioned from an early age to consider my sexuality a dangerous deviation from my true heritage as a Somali by close kin and friends. As a young gay African coming of age in London, there was another whiplash of cultural confusion that one had to recover from again and again: that accepting your sexual identity doesn’t necessarily mean that the wider LGBT community, with its own preconceived notions of what constitutes a “valid” queer identity, will embrace you any more welcomingly than your own prejudiced kinsfolk do.” ~ Diriye Osman
Summer whispers sweetly on the warm breeze, hinting at its imminent arrival, teasingly coy and elusive – not quite ready to fully announce itself – and all the more enchanting for it. In aqua and turquoise and yellow – shades of sea and shades of sun – a curated collection of bracelets conjures the spirit of the coming season.
In the night air, a little piano piece by Grieg comes and goes, momentarily stealing focus from the background drone of a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. Piano lessons and summer go hand-in-hand, and not without some bit of tension for those of us who never quite practiced enough.
A lavender and coriander scent from Jo Malone, and a bit of ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs round out this little scene, adding elements of summer fragrance both light and fleeting. That’s why summer is so beloved – it never seems to last.
Karine Jean-Pierre is the White House Principal Deputy Press Secretary, and recently became the first Black person in thirty years to hold a press conference in such a capacity. That historic moment was powerful to witness, and every time she holds court in interviews or press events, she gives a lesson in power and grace. (I still remember the way she absolutely held the floor when a heckler approached then-Vice-Presidential nominee Kamala Harris.) She earns her first Dazzler of the Day honor thanks to her work as activist, political commentator, and author.
Lee Bailey once remarked that June is all about the roses, and that certainly seems to be the case this year, as around every corner there seems to be another bush aflame with flowers. We only have a Rosa rugosa in the garden right now, and it has not yet sent up any buds – hopefully they will be arriving later in the summer – the closest we may get to the beach for some time.
Other than that, we will have to find our rose fixes in public spaces, and they are happily and largely available if you look in the right places.
For me, the best part of a rose is the perfume. Not all roses have a scent, but the very best do, and it pervades and intoxicates like no other fragrance I’ve ever experienced. I love the hints of it in ‘Portrait of a Lady‘ or ‘Oud Fleur‘ or ‘Rose & Cuir‘. It’s still best straight from the blossom, on sunny summer days, and too soon gone with a breeze.
A simple bouquet of three white peony blooms makes for a magnificent scene in the attic loft. All this bright white and lack of distracting colors lends a harmonious peace and tranquility to the space, and it is precisely what we need during this late-spring episode of Mercury in retrograde motion. On a Friday night, when the world is about to get hot-hot-hot, and the work week takes its momentary leave, I sit in the light and pause to take it all in, with mindfulness and a little moment of meditation.
I don’t recall the name of this particular white peony; the ‘Festiva Maxima’ variety, which I had as my wedding bouquet, contains flecks of bright fuchsia, and comes into bloom any day now. This plant is more delicate, with a sweeter perfume and smaller blooms. Each carries its own charm, and every peony has its own unique magic.
James Falciano is a Brooklyn based illustrator. They received a BFA in Visual Arts with a concentration in Painting from Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers University in 2011. Their minor was Art History. James has exhibited drawings and paintings in various venues throughout New York City, as well as exhibiting internationally for the first time in 2016 in Tokyo, Japan. In 2018, their work was included in Metrosource Magazine’s Pride themed charity event to benefit the Ali Forney Center, which was held at the top of the WTC observatory in lower Manhattan. Their work may be found in a variety of public and private collections, including a branch of the New York Public Library located in the West Village.
Currently James’ work is centered on exploring and celebrating Queer identity, sexuality and expression. It has been extremely important for James to create work that celebrates their community and speaks to who they are as a person and an artist. In addition to their own personal works, James has worked on commissioned portraits, promotional posters for nightlife entertainers, album covers and ad campaigns – most notably a partnership with OraQuick, makers of the first over the counter self-administered HIV test. James has been profiled in a variety of publications, including the Huffington Post, Frontrunner Magazine, Queerty, Out Magazine and Bustle.
One of my favorite flowers – the peony – has been in bloom for the past week, right on Memorial Day weekend schedule. Last year, after almost two decades of leaving them undisturbed, it was finally time to divide the plants in our front garden, which was more of an arduous undertaking that I anticipated. Part of me is still slow to realize just how long we’ve been at our home, and all those plants I put in those first few years are now almost twenty years old. For some, it’s a glorious sight to behold – such as the 30-foot tall climbing hydrangea. For others, they are but a memory – such as the failed lady’s slipper orchid that I purchased at a criminally-high price-point, and which died after two seasons, despite my care and coddling in watering it with de-chlorinated water.
The peonies in the front yard proved stalwart and reliable performers, blooming just as we were usually in Ogunquit for Memorial Day weekend. The past few years, we’ve been home to watch them burst open, peppering the space with their gloriously spicy perfume. Lately, however, I’ve noticed a decline in their blooms, a tell-tale sign that they were ready to be divided and reinvigorated.
The best time to do this is late summer – around August, when it’s still warm and there is time for them to settle in and fortify their tubers. I chose a hot sunny day for this, to allow the tubers to air out and dry a bit, helping to prevent rot. It was more difficult than I expected – after 20 years their tubers had grown into substantial mounds, more akin to sweet potatoes than thin roots – and they were wound inextricably into each other, making for a tough process of separating and thinning them.
Eventually, I managed to carefully whack my way through (if one can be careful in one’s whacking), turning three unruly bushes into six smaller specimens. I generously amended the soil with loads of well-aged manure, mulched the surrounding area, and watered them in well. As summer lingered, I made sure they were well-watered through September – I tend to forget about the importance of watering into fall, but to give them the best possible chance for surviving the winter, greater care was exerted, and the results are paying off.
While a few are taking this year off as far as blooms go (which often happens when you divide or move a peony) most are sending up buds, starting with these old-fashioned beauties. Peony season has returned, and with it a sense of hope and happiness pervades from their sweet perfume.
Full-disclosure: I first happened upon the brilliance of Tim Ferriss while researching the easiest ways to get my ass in shape. When swinging around a kettle bell proved meddlesome and monotonous for my charmed goals of exerting myself as little as possible, it was his knowledge and inspirational way around a phrase or explanation that kept me following him. Today he earns his first Dazzler of the Day honor thanks to his ongoing quest of educating and inspiring and simply becoming something better – check out his link tree for all his current endeavors.
This year’s return to our annual BroSox Adventure originally looked a little different than previous years. We are, after all, still muddling through a pandemic in which certain idiots are still refusing to get vaccinated, and the rest of us are being forced to carry the responsibility and concern for our fellow human beings. Luckily, New York and Massachusetts are both doing well on those fronts, and the last time I was in Boston they were just opening things up to full capacity, with no masks for those of us who are fully vaccinated. That includes Red Sox games, which changes our original plans for the BroSox Adventure with Skip.
We had planned on simply taking in a game from afar – either at some quiet pub or restaurant, and possibly just in our hotel room at the Mandarin Oriental – but someplace low-key and, frankly, affordable. When they opened up Fenway to full capacity, however, tickets suddenly became available, and Skip managed to scoop some up, enabling us to return to our tradition in all its customary form. As Skip put it, a BroSox Adventure without a trip to baseballs cathedral would somehow ring hollow – especially after being absent for over a year. This feels right, and it adds the finishing touch to a trip that we’ve been hoping to happen for two years.
Behold! The glory and the mesmerizing beauty of the Itoh peony. I’ve been looking for a specimen to put on display here, as the tree peony we currently have is one of those heavy-headed varieties which gets so top heavy each bloom requires staking, and I’m not into that kind of maintenance.
The exquisite form of the tree peony has long charmed me, and I’m not sure why it’s taken so long to come around to trying my hand at them again. Their reputation of being finicky an difficult to transplant has already been upended here – the one we have was moved twice and still flowers. The foliage also tends to stay perfectly intact and unmarred by mildew, unlike their herbaceous cousins, which don’t fare that well in the humid summers we usually have.
The Itoh peony is actually a hybrid of an herbaceous peony and a tree peony, and reportedly combines the best qualities of both. I’m working on finding the perfect placement for such a beauty…
The announcement sent shockwaves through the entertainment industry: Ellen DeGeneres was ending her wildly popular television show after nineteen years of entertaining and giving her unique gift of humor, wit, and kindness to a world that wasn’t always appreciative of it. Her very public coming-out in the 90’s (that ‘Time’ magazine cover story and bold proclamation of ‘Yep, I’m gay!’ was a formative part of my own coming out – and likely countless others) was as celebrated as it was momentous. It moved the cultural stigma that was still afflicting the world, even as it seemingly harmed her sitcom career. The courage it took to do that should not be underestimated or forgotten, and if that was all she ever did she would have left an impressive legacy. Luckily for us, that was only the beginning, and she has since go on to host some of the biggest entertainment gigs that exist, and then establishing a hit show that put the LGBTQIA community on full, unfussy display every week-day. There was glory in that, and it’s something that we will all miss. She earns her first Dazzler of the Day in the hopes that she embarks on the next chapter of her journey with all the hilarious gusto and dazzle she’s given us so far.
When I first heard that my pals LeeMichael and Bryan had been harassed with homophobic mailings for the last five years in their hometown of Milton, MA, I was doubly incensed. First of all, the fact that homophobia is still a thing is reprehensible on its own. Second, that it was done via abuse of the postal service is diabolical. I have a special place in my heart for the US Postal Service (as LeeMichael circa 1997 will attest) and I absolutely abhor anyone who abuses such an agency for nefarious purposes.
For all the horrors and fears stoked by such harassment, and for all five years of living in such worry, this story has a very happy ending, and not only because they caught the individual responsible. Bryan summed up the experience like this:
I am so very excited to announce that LeeMichael and I are announcing a fundraiser for our local Gay Straight Alliance in the high school and middle school. As some of you know, our family faced many years of harassment via mail from an individual that would subscribe for magazines and services with offensive and homophobic names directed to our address. This was a time of apprehension and sadness for our family. This year, after a hiatus, the individual again signed us up or a subscription under the name Michelle Fruitzey. For the first time, we were able to get a handwriting sample. Our town as a community and with the help of the local police was able to identify the perpetrator and arrest him for years of criminal harassment. Our family decided to turn a bad situation into a great situation by “owning” the name Michelle Fruitzey and having a fundraiser for the local GSA in our town schools by selling t-shirts. Let’s educate against bullying in all forms, especially against GLBT youth… You can also order t-shirts to support our cause at https://fundly.com/iammichellefruitzey. We are so very grateful to the Town of Milton and our many friends and neighbors that provided us so much support. Thank you!
A more in-depth article on the whole saga is here, while you can purchase the t-shirts directly at this link. In this month of Pride, it warms my heart to see that some neighbors still care, and that people, at their best, will always work to help and protect one another.
“Somebody has to go polish the stars, They’re looking a little bit dull. Somebody has to go polish the stars, For the eagles and starlings and gulls Have all been complaining they’re tarnished and worn, They say they want new ones we cannot afford. So please get your rags And your polishing jars, Somebody has to go polish the stars.” ~ Shel Silverstein, A Light in the Attic
When we first purchased our home, there was a little attic/loft area which once functioned as a children’s play space, at least judging from the writing in the closets. On the floor was a dark, glued-down industrial ‘carpet’ that was like black and blue astroturf. It looked awful and smelled even worse. I scraped it off – by hand – then sanded it down – by machine – and painted it all white (paneling, floors, and ceiling). Since it was still rough around the edges, the easiest style to conjure was a shabby chic hybrid – and twenty years ago it was all the rage.
I hung floral curtains to mask an ugly metal divider gate, whitewashed shelves for decorative purposes, and raided the Marshall’s shabby chic section to fill it with fringed monstrosities. It served its simple purpose as a surplus room for guests, but eventually we stopped bothering to keep it up. It went unheated in the winter and un-air-conditioned in the summer, so it was mostly uninhabitable.
What began as a shabby chic attic evolved into a messy and practically unlivable storage space as time passed and we focused on other parts of the house. So bad did my clutter get that mere walking was often a menace, and navigating the piles of stuff was an exercise right out of ‘Hoarders: Buried Alive’. Reclaiming it from ‘Grey Gardens’ territory took a lot of garbage bags and some ruthless editing, but I spent the earliest weeks of spring making it happen, just as the sun began to heat the room nicely. This was a serious sort of spring cleaning – more than dusting or shifting clothes. It was designed to aid in our storage issues, and to create a bit more space for us. The work began on the staircase, where we had been lining each stair with bottles of soda and seltzer, then spilling it into the space above the stairs, with bags of coffee beans, kitchen items, holiday decor, and things like a fryer, an ice cream maker, and a waffle maker. You know, the shit that gets used twice a year, and only if people are coming over.
Once a little space was cleared, and the place could breathe again, inspiration built on itself. I was rapidly filling 55-gallon garbage bags with the unused detritus and nonsense of two decades of impulse buying. A few items I managed to sell on FaceBook Marketplace, which would provide funding for the slight change-up in style I had in mind.
After obsessing over the concept of hygge over this past winter, I wanted a similar spirit to infuse this attic loft for summer, so I turned to a Scandinavian slant, giving in to a white-washed brightness tempered with some natural wood and ivory shell inlaid work.
Influences and accents of Scandinavian style and mid-century simplicity injected the room with a calming atmosphere – a bright, livable space just in time for the summer season – and the summer guests.
Andy’s antique wooden bed-frame reclaims pride-of-place in the center of it all, shifting the purpose and intent to one of repose and relaxation. It turned out so well I may entertain an office move to this area at some point. I’ve already taken to napping here in the afternoon.
Cue the background music for the rest of the tour…
A new sound-system designed like a mid-century radio allows for music to inhabit the place, immediately bringing new life and energy into a room that had previously stayed largely quiet. (You can see it on the right side of the desk below – unobtrusively elegant in a slightly retro way.)
The multitude of lamps are a necessity because there is only one small window to light the expanse – and half of that is taken up by an AC unit in the summer. While that one East-facing portal allows some morning into the space, it’s not nearly enough for the bright and airy feel I was going for, so lamps abound. That makes this the ideal space for rainy days as well, when you can hear the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof, lending it a coziness unparalleled elsewhere in the house.
Along with Andy’s bed, my grandmother’s old chest – a hand-painted piece of wooden craftsmanship – adds some love and nostalgia, warming the white and cream environs, and grounding its corner with a necessary element of dark wood.
Almost twenty years into this home, it’s a welcome bit of enchantment to find that there are still places to surprise and thrill, repurposing themselves into a new addition that costs only as much as a bucket of paint and some new lamps and such. I’ve got some more pictures to hang, and a few more accent pieces to find, but this is already perfect for guests to visit. Here’s one more song to welcome summer:
“How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live ’em. How much love inside a friend? Depends on how much you give ’em.” ~ Shel Silverstein, A Light in the Attic
