The title of this post says it all, and in this busy time of the year that’s a very good thing. See also naked Zac Efron, nude Zac Efron, half-naked Zac Efron, half-nude Zac Efron – well, you get the point. Scroll down and type his name into the ‘Search’ box and see what else comes up.
We need to stop throwing arugula on everything.
Coming to Boston in June, the ‘Downton Abbey’ exhibition will arrive to whet our appetites for the movie, due out later this year. I’m excited about both, and not just since I’ve been looking for a proper reason for us to return to Boston this summer. This one is coming in a formal British fashion, which is not a sartorial style that is feasible or particularly comfortable for a summer outing, but we’ll do our best. I’m thinking linens, wrinkles and all.
Like its predecessor ‘Gosford Park’ there is something tranquil and calming about this series, even with all the car crashes and drama. It’s the perfect antidote for a hot summer stretch, which might actually be welcome at this point of the rainy season.
A little late to the nude Channing Tatum party that went on a couple of weeks ago, here’s that naked photo that his wife posted, or made him post, because of a bet or a board game or something. It doesn’t really matter because the end more than justifies the means. Mr. Tatum has been almost naked here in posts like this, and this, and this, but it’s been a while since he graced these pages. Welcome back, old friend.
May is wandering off much too quickly for my liking, even if the weather has been far from fine. We eked out a nice weekend, and I spent most of it in Boston (with an early morning run to Troy’s Landscaping, resulting in the selfie seen here that Suzie claimed is a total Mom selfie so we’re not speaking right now), but Boston is a story to tell in a later post. For now, our usual Monday look-back at the week that came before…
It started with the lilacs, which have made a wonderful showing the year, lingering a little longer than is customary thanks to the cool, wet weather.
Some #TinyThreads were meant to be pulled.
Florals for spring, again.
With all this rain, a fragrance to complement the wetness.
Our annual Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway began…
Camp and cabs and Central Park…
And a special guest appearance or two…
Until the next Broadway rendezvous.
Hunks of the May Days included Thomas Bradfield, Devon Goda, John Gregory-Smith, and James Faulkner.
Yes, I saw the Eurovision performance, and despite a few flat notes, I thought it was really powerful. More interesting than the hubbub about it is Madonna’s roll-out for her upcoming ‘Madame X’ album, starting with a cover story on British Vogue (featuring some of these amazing photographs). She’s also released four songs, and managed to do so (more or less) without any major leaks. At first listen, I was not instantly in love with them, but in the ensuing days they’ve been growing on me. (Remember, it took me a while before I came to love both ‘Like A Prayer‘ and ‘Frozen‘ so this is a good sign.) I still like lead single ‘Medellin‘ and its laid-back, almost sparse arrangement, the best of the offerings so far. “Slow down papa!” It’s a new sonic landscape for our favorite Madame, inspired from all the corners of the world, and will likely be the soundtrack to my summer.
“The sun was caressing my skin… another me could now begin…”
The nasty weather held off for as long as it could, but on our final morning in New York, as we were celebrating Mother’s Day with Suzie and Elaine, the rains and winds arrived, whipping the outside world into an unpleasant frenzy. Safely ensconced within the sky-high windows of the Park Room at our hotel, however, we watched from a cozy vantage point as Central Park was pelted by falling water.
It had been a practically-perfect weekend, another banner Broadway weekend with Mom, and a bonus visit from Suzie and Elaine. I’ll be pressing for them to join us again next year. In the meantime, here’s a quick recap of what went down on Broadway:
If my increasingly-faulty memory is working, I think the last time Suzie and Elaine were in town with my Mom and me was in the nineties, for a showing of ‘Chicago’ (which back then was taking place in the same theater where we had just seen ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. Time changes and shifts, moves on and retreats, advances and recedes, and suddenly we are back years later in older bodies and different mind-sets, but still thankful for being together. We should really do things like this more often as none of us are getting any younger. Rather than hasten the pace, allow me to slow down and return to the start of Saturday ~ our last full day in New York City for this Mother’s Day weekend.
It began in sunny form, with warm temperatures and blue skies that felt foreign after all the nastiness we’ve had lately. We made a breakfast of crepes at the Plaza Hotel ~ a brush with elegant living that stands out as one of those treats that is made all the more appealing for its fleeting and infrequent nature.
Following that, we strolled down Fifth Avenue for a morning of window and traditional shopping, starting at the fragrance counter of Bergdorf Goodman and working our way to midtown. It was a relatively restrained shopping expedition, more enjoyable for the company and ease of relaxation than any material procurements. Shopping is sometimes more than a means to an end ~ it is an act of pleasure regardless of outcome, at least to some of us. Being in the proximity to beautiful items, seeing mannequins and store windows decked out in extravagant fashion ~ they each lend themselves to inspiration and well-being, providing a pretty buffer for a world not always occupied with exquisite things.
The afternoon arrived, and with it the sun soared to its zenith. It had been so long since we had seen that bright orb, we took our time returning to the hotel. Eventually we made it back to dress for an early dinner with Suzie and Elaine, and one last show.
Aureole provided the sumptuous backdrop for a dinner with three of my favorite ladies on the planet. Suzie and Elaine were in-between Harry Potter plays, in the dim and dark space of an alternate land where dementors had taken over the world and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had come into power. Mom and I were heading into’The Cher Show’ ~ yet despite our disparate theatrical journeys, we returned to family form for dinner.
I’ve known these three women for all forty-three years of my life, and it’s always a happy occasion when we find ourselves together, especially in such an exciting set of circumstances. Even our casual meet-ups at someone’s home carry the glad frisson of a shared family history. For instance, one of our earliest Broadway get-aways was with Suzie and Elaine. At that time Suzie was more aware of what was on Broadway, and she chose ‘Lost in Yonkers’ and ‘Six Degrees of Separation’. The first starred Mercedes Ruehl and an actor we had never heard of before: Kevin Spacey. The latter featured Stockard Channing in the role she would take to the movie (as well as full-frontal male nudity). That’s always fun to see with your mother. (Maybe Suzie and I should have taken them to the Gaiety all those years ago…)
On that early trip, we traveled to various locations and times in the rich history book of New York simply by attending two plays. It taught me that theater was a safe way to escape from the drudgery of everyday life, while pushing and challenging your own perceptions and belief systems.
After dinner, we made our way to our respective shows. Mom and I ambled up to 52ndStreet to check out ‘The Cher Show’ and while we expected it to be fluffy and fun, it actually turned out to be unexpectedly moving and poignant, and more than a little empowering. To say nothing of the costumes, which rivaled what we had just seen at the Met. It just goes to prove that old adage: when in doubt, go big, go sparkly, or go home.
The night closed around us, and our annual Mother’s Day Broadway weekend was coming to an all-too-swift close. We had one more breakfast the next day, and Suzie and Elaine were joining us before we all boarded trains back upstate…
One would think that asking a taxi driver who picked us up at the southernmost tip of Central Park to drop us off at the Met would be an easy ride. After getting plopped off at the Museum of Natural History, where a big Tyrannosaurus rex banner hung in the entrance, I realized it wasn’t so simple. I also realized too late that we were on the wrong side of the park completely. Fortunately, the morning was holding off on the rain, so we made our way through the lush verdant expanse of the park, where we could enjoy what spring flowers still clung to their first flush of the season.
Most years we simply skirt the edges of Central Park ~ only rarely do we end up going through it. We really should do it more often. From our lofty hotel room vantage point, the size and immensity of the place was especially striking. (It’s also how I knew we could never walk to the Met in a few short minutes, particularly when rain was a continuous threat. It’s just too far for my lazy legs.)
Once ensconced within all the greenery, it’s almost easy to forget you are in the middle of New York City. Even here, however, and perhaps especially here, there were lots of people going about their day, so the idea of crowds and surging population was never quite that far. Once in a while, we’d round a corner and have a brief respite from the bikers and walkers and tourists, where we’d stumble upon something like these geranium plants, giving off a delicacy not usually found in the city. It was a calmer and more subtle variation on the beauty that awaited us at the Met.
‘Camp: Notes on Fashion’ was this year’s Met Gala theme, based on this stupendous exhibition. We arrived early in the day (despite our wayward taxi ride and park walk) in order to beat the crowds, and for the most part we succeeded. There were not yet the two-hour lines that greeted the great Alexander McQueen exhibit from several years ago, but a healthy stream of viewers ebbed and flowed past the pair of mirrored-fig-leaf-clad male sculptures that marked the entrance.
The thing about camp is that it all too often defies definition, and the moment you try to pin it down and label it is the moment that its very campiness departs. Still, a worthy effort was made to encompass the theme, placing particular emphasis on Susan Sontag’s epochal essay ‘Notes on ‘Camp” and using that as a guide for the wildly disparate ideas of camp which ran throughout the exhibit.
There were so many great outfits on display, I couldn’t possibly capture them all in this single post, so keep your eyes out for a follow-up post at some point. It was a beautifully-curated exhibit, captured in a gorgeously-crafted book (which at $50 was a relative steal) but I didn’t want to carry that thing around the city, so I’ll find it online later. Camp is nothing if not fertile ground for inspiration, especially in these parts.
For now, we return to the New York adventures at hand, which found Mom and I having dinner at the Hunt & Fish Club before taking in a production of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ starring Jeff Daniels. Dinner was lovely ~ in a myriad of soft lights and mirrors, everything looks and tastes better ~ and the play was a remarkable feat of wonder. It’s a brutally difficult thing to adapt such a beloved classic to the stage, and they managed to do so while keeping true to the soul and spirit of the book. Powerfully relevant to today’s world, it was quite the theatrical achievement with an ensemble that rises to the material and task at hand.
As much as I abhor Times Square, and the crush of people and madness of the world crammed into such a small space, it is always worth braving for shows like this. It’s also worth it to spend some time with Mom, haunting these grand old theaters, with their faded velvet seats that start out too small and confining, then expand into an entire universe as spun out thrillingly upon the stage before us.
In the moments before the curtain rises, the usual giddy anticipation pervades the atmosphere. We know that something wondrous is about to happen as we thumb through the Playbill articles and look back at others shows we’ve seen in whatever theater we happen to be in. At this point, we’ve been in many, and all have their happy memories and connotations. On this night, a new memory is being made by way of Harper Lee…
Every good weekend getaway begins with a proper itinerary, at least when you’re a Virgo. This year’s Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway was an ambitious 1-2-3 punch that started with the bang of ‘Hamilton’ and didn’t let up until ‘The Cher Show’ ended things with a rousing cry of “You haven’t seen the last of me!” In between were a few beautiful days in New York City, where we managed to dodge the rain and wind until the last possible moment, and by then we were ready to board the train to return home.
We stayed at the Park Lane Hotel, right on the southern border of Central Park, and thanks to the extra Standby Upgrade charge for each night we eked out a room on the 37thfloor, which afforded us the magnificent view you see here. I always forget the sprawl and expanse of Central Park until I see it laid out like this. A certain magnificence of foresight was required for such a lasting endeavor, and it’s a testament to the importance of proper planning that we have it like this today.
There is always a sense of excitement and spring happiness when we come down on this weekend. The Met Gala has come and gone, leaving the new exhibition behind to peruse. (In this instance it was a must-see show: ‘Camp: Notes on Fashion’ which we’ll get to in a couple of posts.) The store windows at Bergdorf Goodman teased at the theme, dripping with their customary over-the-top decadence. A bouquet of orchids near the elevators of our hotel greeted us in shades of chartreuse. All in all, beauty was conspiring to start the celebration off in the best possible ways.
For our first show, I splurged (and emptied my account) as a Christmas gift to Mom ~ ‘Hamilton.’ It was even better than I recalled it from the first time I was lucky enough to see it, as this is very much a show that benefits from some background listening and research beforehand. You can still get a lot out of it from a cold viewing, but there are so many layers of complexity and storytelling that you lose something if you’re seeing it for the first time. Luckily Mom does her research and I’d given her the soundtrack a few months ago so she knew what was going on both sonically and historically. We had an early dinner at Sardi’s, which was a comfortable, classic, old-school haunt we’ve done whenever we need a place in a pinch.
In the middle of the greatest city in the world, the shows were about to begin…
My whole life has been one big ‘felt cute, might delete later’ moment.
My cologne preferences are largely influenced by season and atmosphere. Of late, I’ve had to delve deeply into the rain fragrances. For the spring/summer season, on those days that get a little wet, I’ve always preferred the Hermes Jardin scent ‘Un Jardin apres la Mousson‘ – loosely translated as the garden after a monsoon. It’s sweet and light, when you need something brighter to cut through the humidity, but nothing too heavy and cloying that might linger and erupt beyond its intended effect.
With all the rain lately, these little olfactory accessories prove one way of injecting some brightness and happiness into the otherwise-drab days. If we’re going to be locked in a cycle of bad weather, we might as well smell good when dealing with it.
These droplets of water captured on the car window do have a certain prettiness to them. This water of life is also giving our gardens a good start. After the rainstorm is not an entirely-awful place to be.
Rooty-tooty, fresh & fruity, dare we say spring is on the actual horizon?
Did we see a glimpse of the elusive sun at long last?
I’m not saying anything, lest we jinx anything and scare the sun away.
Fickle heavenly bodies are too easily spooked.
Leave the celestial beings to other realms.
Give me the flowers and the dirt and the crumbled stone of the earth.
The ground beneath my feet.
The solid-as-a-rock bed upon which we walk.
I’m already too prone to flying away.
Here are a few more floral scenes for spring.
