Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Gunnar Deatherage: Master of Voice and Visual Plumage

Recently launching his podcast ‘What’s Your Medium’, Gunnar Deatherage takes his passions as a modern-day Renaissance man and turns his seductive voice of velvet into a soothing moment of sharing. A favorite on ‘Project Runway’ and ‘Project Runway Allstars’, Deatherage won me over a long time ago with his penchant for all things colorfully fabulous, and the way he injects wit and humor, along with knowing pop culture nods into much of his work.

His talent has translated into interior and set design, which he’s putting to good use in Los Angeles, but it’s his TikTok page that is garnering frenzied acclaim of late, so much so that he’s tapped into the world of podcasts to bring his dreamy dulcet tones into an aural exploration of artistic media and inspiration. The care and detailed expression he puts into all of his artistic endeavors are what sets him apart (see the way he carefully presses seams to make them neat and beautiful) and what inspires me most about his work. It’s a majestic melding of hard work and talented artistry. Executing a vision is not always an easy task, and the challenge of any artist is how to translate what they have in their head into a way that reads on the page, in a dress, through the angles and opulence of a room. Deatherage not only manages that, but does so in a way that simultaneously challenges what we think is possible.

He’s often straddled the prescribed line between male and female, masculine and feminine, and his greatest works not only blur that line, but create another plane entirely for something altogether removed and exalted beyond those ancient terms. In shattering such limited terms, Deatherage crafts a new world that has more than enough room for new visions. For all of us who have ever felt uncomfortable in the clothes generally assigned to our perceived gender, who wanted something more than what society has formally decreed, we have artists and visionaries like Deatherage to help us find our wings – to unfurl their feathers and take magnificent flight.

{Visit Deatherage’s website here for more enchantment.}

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A Silver-Hued Recap

This little silver tinsel tree manages to be both retro and modern in a wonderful amalgamation of old and new – though being on display in the cellar is a decidedly new twist for holiday decor here in the house. It’s a bright spot in a season largely devoid of them. On with the weekly recap…

Greeting December with an orchid.

The Gaiety ~ once upon a male strip club in Times Square. 

The only tree that 2020 deserves.

Gratuitous guy candy/eye candy.

Setting this holiday on fire – literally.

Beneath a mystical moon.

A pair of holiday hoots.

Chamy Christmas.

Jewels of a pomegranate.

A Christmas river.

The scarlet poinsettia.

Mucking up a mocktail.

A bizarre Price Chopper exchange.

Hunks of the Day included Travis Scott, James Vaughan, Damien Lewis and Brett Eldridge.

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A Bizarre Hate Crime Warning from Price Chopper

The Salvation Army bell ringer had been ringing their bell outside of Price Chopper for several weeks, something that’s somehow more annoying when you do a little research and read about their shady anti-LGBTQ history. They’ve made attempts at fixing this, but the sour taste still lingers. That’s their business, so I always just walk by without saying a thing.

On this day, after picking up the groceries, I was checking out and the cashier asked if I wanted to round up my total and give to the Salvation Army.

“No thanks, not with their anti-gay history,” I said in as friendly a tone as I could muster. Looking slightly surprised, they continued ringing me out.

Then it was my turn to be surprised, as the cashier asked, “You’re not going to commit a hate crime like kicking over one of their buckets or something, are you?”

Mustering every ounce of self-control, I replied, “Umm, no. Also that’s not a hate crime.”

Cashier: “Just warning you that we have this all month so I may be asking you to donate again.”

Me: “Then I’ll repeat what I said as well.”

Just another interesting day at the local Price Chopper.

PS – Buy your groceries at Hannaford.

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Mucking Up A Pretty Mocktail

Having largely written off this holiday season (to try to do anything in 2020 is pure madness) I find myself in the happy predicament of finding any little brush with joy a bonus. Such was not the case with this try at a holiday mocktail. I’m still overestimating what my memory holds, so I thought I could casually put together something akin to this drink, but I failed to consult that post or the recipe itself, and so ended up with a bland and yet-still-nasty concoction that neglected the use of blood oranges, and substituted the seltzer with a fruit soda that was not quite right, making it both too tart and somehow finishing with an element of sickly sweetness.

The lesson being that this is not the time nor year to mess around with classics, no matter what sort of semi-successful motions I might have made with the jello salad. For every innocuous switch, there is a change that alters and ruins whatever magical alchemy exists in a balanced group of ingredients. Stray but a little… 

For this pretty mocktail, the old ‘look-but-please-don’t-drink-me’ adage holds true. Typical of 2020, when so little substance hides behind such monumental piles of shit. That’s ok. Maybe we have learned a few things, gotten better at life by looking a little deeper at ourselves, our flaws and faults, our blindness to our biases, our genuine efforts at being better people. A closer examination of things is often uncomfortable, but always leads to improvement, or at least awareness. That’s the beginning. And so I continue the holiday season by raising this mess of a mocktail and asking you to toast to the start and continuation of something wonderful. Something better. 

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A Scarlet Poinsettia

“Conversely, the red plant itself burns a brighter red when set off by the green than when it grows among its peers. In the bed I always reserved for poinsettia seedlings, there was little to distinguish one plant from its neighbours. My poinsettia did not turn scarlet until I planted it in new surroundings. Colour is not something one has, colour is bestowed on one by others.” ― Arthur Japin

All of our blood – no matter the color or shade of our skin – is red.

Something to keep in mind, and not only in the holiday season. 

 

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A Christmas River Original

“Christmas is a bridge. We need bridges as the river of time flows past. Today’s Christmas should mean creating happy hours for tomorrow and reliving those of yesterday.” – Gladys Taber

Holiday glitz and glamour have a way of sparking the distractions and frills that are necessary when the year gets bogged down at the beginning of winter. All the darkness of the shortest days requires some incandescent thrill to combat the somberness inherent at the turn of the calendar. Yet Christmas has never been about the glittering bombast or flashy bravado that seeks to hype up this most wonderful time of the year. For me, the true essence of the holiday is in the natural wonder of the world. In the prismatic light of the sun, glinting through the dried petals of a hydrangea bloom. In the crystalline wonder of an icicle. In the meandering curves of a river.

IT’S COMING ON CHRISTMAS
THEY’RE CUTTING DOWN TREES
THEY’RE PUTTING UP REINDEER
AND SINGING SONGS OF JOY AND PEACE
OH I WISH I HAD A RIVER 
I COULD SKATE AWAY ON

It would be impossible to top Joni Mitchell’s original version of ‘River’ but Sarah McLachlan gave it a glorious effort in this previous post. Here, we return to the first rendition as this year is about getting back to basics. And so the typical hype and hoopla that has so often personified this site, and my own lifestyle, gets a revision, inside and out.

BUT IT DON’T SNOW HERE
IT STAYS PRETTY GREEN
I’M GOING TO MAKE A LOT OF MONEY
THEN I’M GOING TO QUIT THIS CRAZY SCENE
I WISH I HAD A RIVER
I COULD SKATE AWAY ON

There is escapism in this song, in the idea and image of a river itself. A way of journeying out by going through ~ through the water, between the light, among the shadows ~ framed by sun and moon ~ and it’s a journey to see us through the holidays, when the typical stress and tension of what they have become suddenly demands escape and relief. 

There is less of a need to get away in this year when we’ve all been away and isolated for so long. And so I look to this song as a way of reconnecting. Perhaps this can work as a way back to where we once were. The river runs both ways if you know how to look at it. And a frozen river stills its wet direction to allow such passage. 

I WISH I HAD A RIVER SO LONG
I WOULD TEACH MY FEET TO FLY
OH I WISH I HAD A RIVER
I COULD SKATE AWAY ON…
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The Jewels of a Pomegranate

One of the happy gems that appear around this time of the year is the precious pomegranate. The ritual of removing its seeds is a fabled process, and every time I try something different, promised to be the easiest and best method, and I have yet to find any that works consistently. I’ve culled them underwater, I’ve scored the outer rind in all sorts of geometric madness, and I’ve hexed them with all kinds of incantations – all to no avail. 

In the end, I resort to messily and painstakingly removing the seeds with my fingers, plucking the fruit in groups, pulling out bits of the papery membrane that separate the compartments of jewels. Sometimes I find joy and peace in the process, slipping into a Zen-like trance as I methodically work toward a bowl filled with the purest extraction of the gems from their torn and ravaged carriage.

Sometimes it’s just a pain. 

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Chamy Christmas

Keeping thematically pure with the lines of this post earlier today, this Chamaecyparis, one of a pair standing sentinel by our front door, forms the only holiday-like decorations outside the house this year. I may string some lights around the Japanese umbrella pine that stands slightly taller than me in our small front garden. No more than that though. Not this year.

If you have a similar set-up for the holidays, and want to draw out the beauty for as long as possible, and maybe even see the greenery through the winter, don’t forget to keep these slightly waters, especially if they’re covered by a roof, as these are. When the snow arrives, and it always does, I will grab some and cover the soil with it, allowing it to melt slowly and naturally as it would into the ground. 

There’s still no guarantee or even likelihood that these will make it through the whole winter. Survival can only be counted on when the roots are secure and insulated beneath a healthy snow cover. Still, it’s worth a shot. And they make a beautiful spot of chartreuse splendor, especially as the morning sun weaves its way through the branches. 

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A Couple of Holiday Hoots

To perceive Christmas through its wrapping becomes more difficult with every year. – E.B. White

Taking a year off from the traditional holiday decorating I do at this time of the season – what’s the point when we’re not having visitors inside anytime soon? – I’ve happily trimmed down that extravaganza to a few choice pieces – a group of bells for jingling on the front door, our childhood mouse-house, and this bouquet of evergreens and eucalyptus, punctuated by a pair of owls from Faddegon’s. 

It was at Faddegon’s where I saw the original (and much finer) version that inspired this whimsical display. It’s a magical place at the holidays, filled with bulbs, poinsettias, ornaments and other holiday jewels. Their designers craft scenes and holiday-scapes to complement every season, and manage to conjure particularly enchanting work at Christmas. 

For this bouquet, I started with some eucalyptus, then looked right in my own backyard, plucking a couple of Eastern pine branches, a sprig of juniper, some Thuja ‘Steeplechase’, and a few bare oak branches that had some horizontal elements to them. The latter provided the perfect perches for the owls, lending a whimsical aspect that is usually too precious for my liking. I’m shedding such cynicism for the rest of the year, embracing the winter wonderland that such a scene evokes. 

It’s a woodland fantasy come to interior life, and I love its inherent wilderness. 

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Beneath A Mystical Moon, By the Minutes

The moon was near full a few days after Thanksgiving, and it hovered at the top of my parents’ street when I stopped by for a quick dinner in the garage. It seems silly to have prepared the space for one single grand dinner when this unseasonably warm fall allows us to be gathered at a safely ventilated distance. As I made my way back to my car, I caught the moon peeking over Amsterdam, working its magic and wonder and mischief.

Earlier that day I had ticked my meditation time up to a total of 27 minutes, which actually goes by more quickly than one would expect, and the bulk of it doesn’t even focus on me. I spent a good portion contemplating intentions on Andy’s physical and mental health, and have expanded that to include the same for my parents as they are getting older. That only leaves a short time for my own intentions, but they have dwindled in the year since I started meditating, which is how it should be. Getting out of my own headspace will go down as one of the few gifts that 2020 has bestowed on me. 

On December 28th, I’ll move up to 28 minutes of daily meditation ~ a lofty goal of peace, a window of light and expansive clarity, and a ritual to quell and calm the holiday mayhem. 

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I Like To Start Fires

Andy claims I have a propensity for trying to burn the house down. He’s being overly dramatic, but I do tend to have some sort of flammable mishap every year or so. This season I got the holiday fire over with rather early on, just as I began wrapping the presents. 

Setting the scene with a delicious candle of frasier fir, I conjured a cozy day after Thanksgiving, getting a headstart on the gift-giving. I started by clearing off the dining room table. No sooner had that been done that it quickly became populated with wrapping and presents, and I took a moment to make a peppermint mocha decaf coffee. Topping it off with some whipped cream – tis the season for such indulgences – I sat down and began stuffing a scarf into a bag. I grabbed some pink tissue paper and pushed it to the side as I refolded the scarf. Instantly, the pink tissue found the candle flame and went up like a piece of flash paper. Moving swiftly, I grabbed the part that hadn’t yet burned up and brought it quickly but relatively calmly to the kitchen sink, where Andy had already rushed in upon seeing the flames. 

A quick dousing of water took care of the remaining burning bits, though a bunch of smoke lingered as Andy turned the kitchen vents on and opened the front window. 

All in a holiday wrapping party of one. 

As Barbara Walters once said, “This is 2020.”

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Gratuitous Guy/Eye Candy

‘Tis the season for eye candy and guy candy, so sound your favorite holiday jam and let’s turn this Christmas out with these naked and semi-naked gentlemen. It’s been a while since we’ve had any nude male celebrities, so let’s make up for that with this post. We’ll ease into it with a shirtless Tom Holland

He appeared here before as Hunk of the Day, and showed off his assets with Jake Gyllenhaal

One of our more recent Hunk of the Day selections, Michele Morrone makes his second appearance on the blog below. 

Idris Elba begins a mini-series of back-end shots. His Hunk of the Day post can be found here, and he proved so popular that he was subsequently featured here and here and here

Another backside view is brought to you by Olympian Matthew Mitcham. He also posed in his Funky Trunks here, posed in his Speedo there, posed with a ukulele here (no, really!) and made a marvelous duet with Davey Wavey here

The rear view of Diplo drops one sick beat. Check out his Hunk of the Day feature here. And a sultry shirtless shot here

Parker Young poses before a blue sky, as shirtless as he did in his Hunk of the Day crowning

Every gratuitous guy candy post demands a classic – and here it’s brought to you by the one and only Ben Cohen

Lastly, the bodacious booty of Pietro Boselli closes this beautiful post out in glorious form. There are a multitude of Boselli posts here, so for a comprehensive list seek out all the posts in the archives using the search feature. If you’re as lazy as me, however, try this link and this one and this one

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This Tree is so 2020

The Christmas tree that gets erected (and eventually mostly fabricated) at Rockefeller Center was hyped to be from Oneonta, New York, and when it was initially installed it left a rather deflated impression, quite right for the year of our Lord 2020. Check out the first unveiling here

I’m not going to shit on this tree. (We’ll leave that sort of thing to this awful lady.) I’ll wait for them to fluff it up – though I can’t imagine the kind of magical fluffing required to puff that puppy out. Here’s hoping for a real Christmas miracle. 

(It turns out there was also a little saw-whet owl living in the tree, who somehow managed to survive the cutting and the falling and the driving to New York City. Named Rockefeller, it has since been returned to its native location in upstate NY. All in the weeks leading up to a 2020 Christmas, I suppose.)

And so we move into the Holiday 2020 season. Lord knows what that will entail, and I hope to lay low as much as possible until the year draws to its close. Godspeed to us all, especially to this tree. 

 

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Arrest Me

Guilty. 

So very damningly guilty.

I am.

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The Gaiety: A Male Strip Club in Times Square

In a lovely little FaceBook triangulation of late that involved three pivotal people in my life – Ann, LeeMichael and Skip – I was reminded of a visit to the Gaiety – the male strip club that now-almost-infathomably inhabited a precious piece of Times Square/Theater District real estate across from the Minskoff Theatre. Ann and I had gone into the city to see ‘Sunset Boulevard‘ in 1995, and when it was over I suggested/begged/demanded that we take in a few stripper rotations at the Gaiety, where part of Madonna’s ‘Sex’ book was so gloriously and infamously shot.

Looking at and thinking about Times Square right now, it seems impossible that such a place existed – right near the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre where we had seen ‘Titanic’ in 1997! It was the only male strip club I’ve been to (that I can remember – was there another?) which is a crime in itself when you think about it. Honestly, Ann and I were only there because of the Madonna connections – the naked men were just a bonus, not the destination. And it was a bit of a bizarre set-up when we were there.

There were sets of six or seven strippers, who each did a solo dance to a pop song by some gay diva (obviously Madonna was a perennial choice) in which they took almost everything off. They then disappeared off stage for a few moments (cue the fluffer, apparently) and when they returned, fully nude and rather excited, they did a minute or two more at full mast. Then they left the stage. That was basically it. Each stripper did his thing, in the same basic set-up. I don’t think we stayed for the full duration, so maybe there was something more interactive and interesting at the end – Ann and I were back at our room across the street at the Marriott Marquis before we reached the finale, spent from an evening with Betty Buckley and a few male strippers. It was enough.

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