The Blog | Alan Ilagan

07
January
2023

Tags: Cologne, Tom Ford

Kiss My Bitter Peach

Tom Ford has a knack for scintillating fragrance monikers. (Hello ‘Fucking Fabulous‘, ‘Rose Prick‘ and ‘Lost Cherry‘.) One that has an overused-emoji already in place for its glory is ‘Bitter Peach’. While it came out a while ago, this one is a recent addition to my cologne cabinet thanks to a Christmas present from Andy. I’ve loved peach as a fragrance for years, but never experienced it in a perfume or cologne.

At first I was skeptical, as Ford’s fruity excursions (like ‘Lost Cherry’) have veered too close to the sugary mainstream stuff that celebrities like Britney Spears or Jennifer Lopez put forth. Upon an initial quick spritz at a nearby Sephora store, I remained unconvinced – however, when I tried it out again a year later, the bit of bitterness was enough to keep me intrigued, and the bright peach that opens it so gorgeously made it worth the ask.

There’s also a perfect backing soundtrack to this scent, provided by Prince in a B-Side cut from his collection of ‘The Hits’ – this is ‘Peach’:

It’s certainly a ripe song for a Tom Ford Private Blend fragrance – it gives sass and sex and just a touch of raunch – though the fragrance itself is more subdued and graceful. ‘Bitter Peach’ is a brief puff of summer sweetness, immediately tempered by a spicy gourmand vibe from some cardamom, blood orange, rum and cognac. An element of promised bitterness comes in at the end of the opening. While the base notes are a little voluminous (the literature lists Indonesian Patchouli Leaf, Vanilla, Tonka Bean, Sandalwood, Benzoin, Cashmeran, Styrax, Labdanum and Vetiver) they marry well and end up settling into something elegantly restrained – the bright and sexy peach fuzz transforming into the softest cashmere.

At that point, the one drawback of such beauty occurs: it goes away too quickly. Topping out at about an hour or two, that initial voluptuousness fades to a whisper that stays quietly close to the skin, demanding repeated application throughout the day – not necessarily a bad thing, but something to consider with its hefty price tag.

This is one of those rare Ford Private Blends that can, and probably should, be used year-round. Many of his creations work well only in certain seasons (‘Mandarino di Amalfi‘, ‘Costa Azzurra‘, and ‘Venetian Bergamot‘ for spring and summer; ‘Amber Absolute‘, ‘Vert D’Encens‘, ‘Ébène Fumé‘ for fall and winter) ‘Bitter Peach’ would work well in summer, fall, and even winter, thanks to its spicy accents of bitterness and the warm softness of its dry down.

Such multi-faceted use mirrors the double and triple entendres for a scent called ‘Bitter Peach’ – the likes of which could be explored for days. You’ll have to settle for this cheeky blog post and all its innuendo and butt-baring outuendo.

Summertime, feelin’ fine, getting wildAll that’s on my mindHere she come, dressed in redGet her done, is all that’s in my headHer hot pants can’t hide her cheeks

She’s a peach…

06
January
2023

Tags: Music

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The Light of a Superstar Long Gone

It is understood that we are only just now seeing the light from stars that may have been extinguished or imploded (or whatever happens when a star dies) years after the fact. Is that comforting or disturbing? I can’t quite decide. It’s certainly a bit of a mind-fuck when it comes to time and perception and the purpose or pointlessness of our tiny place in the universe.

A similar sense of displacement and fuckery is at work when I find myself on the verge of sleep and wake, suspended in that dream-like bardo of worlds where what is real blends confusingly with what is past, what may have never come to pass, and what has yet to come to pass. Ghosts haunt that borderline realm – the ghosts of time: past, present and future – like some Ebenezer Scrooge parable.

Long ago, and oh, so far awayI fell in love with you before the second showYour guitar, it sounds so sweet and clearBut you’re not really here, it’s just the radio

Don’t you remember, you told me you loved me baby?You said you’d be coming back this way again, babyBaby, baby, baby, baby, oh babyI love you, I really do

This haunting cover of ‘Superstar’ by The Carpenters gives me similar pause, an echo of the original that I posted about earlier. The song somehow becomes even more evocative in this version, a hazy visage drained of color like dreams or memories, and if the first post was one of youthful clarity, this one feels fuzzy and messy and the result of all my time on earth.

Loneliness is such a sad affairAnd I can hardly wait to be with you againWhat to say, to make you come again? (Ooh, baby)Come back to me again (Ooh, baby)And play your sad guitar

For almost half a century, I’ve looked up at the same stars – the light from thousands of years ago. While my body aches and creaks and says so much time has passed, in relation to the stars this is merely a blip in the story of the universe. It lends all of us a certain humility, and humility will always be one of the most beautiful features of any human being. Too many of us (including myself too much of the time) forget to access or exhibit that at key moments – and every moment can be key when it comes to humility. At so many points, just a little dose of humility could have changed the course of history – personally and universally. When you think of how small we really are in the grand multi-dimensional scheme of time and space, it is gorgeously humbling.

Don’t you remember, you told me you loved me baby?You said you’d be coming back this way again, babyBaby, baby, baby, baby, oh babyI love you, I really do

06
January
2023

Tags: General, Music

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Memories of a Superstar

My mother introduced us to the Carpenters, or maybe it was just her easy-listening radio station that did it. Whatever the case, the melodies of that musical group informed the early years of my musical education, and ever since I’ve been a sucker for a hook and melody delivered in earnest, dramatic fashion.

Leave it to Madonna to remind me of this song during a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the filming of ‘Evita’. She and some of the other actors were sitting around between takes and singing a few songs by the Carpenters. This was one of them, and whenever I hear it I’m instantly brought back to that winter of ‘Evita’ and all its now-acknowledged loneliness.

Loneliness is such a sad affairAnd I can hardly wait to be with you againWhat to say, to make you come again? (Ooh, baby)Come back to me again (Ooh, baby)And play your sad guitar

Once upon a long time ago, there was a boy who played his guitar for me ~ a nameless boy, on a drunken night, before I found true love. After a brief tussle in his flannel-sheeted bed, I laid there as he found his guitar in the darkened room and sat down on the edge of the mattress, strumming snippets of a few folk songs. I knew instantly we would never be together – his naked act was so raw and vulnerable even I would not approach damaging him in the way I had damaged others, and would damage more.

It wasn’t as selfless as it may seem – at the moment I understood I was saving myself as much pain as I was saving him. Still, I lingered when I should have been somewhere, anywhere else, and let him play his music for me. Barely illuminated by the gray light coming from a dirty window, he was mostly a silhouette, a tender shadow only given away through the movements of his arm and the strumming of the strings. He sang along a bit too – the voice of a young man when we were both still in the early stage of youth when we could be careless of heart and head and still maybe make it out unscathed. Maybe.

I dressed quickly when he paused in his songs. He tugged at my shirt a bit as I hastily worked to button it, and I left it mostly undone in my rush to get out of there. He never saw my eyes well up from the beauty of his act.

05
January
2023

Tags: General

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Lone Shoe, Lost in the Rain

One of life’s greatest mysteries is the single shoe left in the middle of a street. For all my questionable nights of tipsy shenanigans, I’ve never once lost a shoe. Yet a single shoe or sock or sipper is often seen on the sidewalk or street after any given weekend. How that ends up happening has always puzzled me – and the mind concocts all kinds of possible scenarios, because it has to be something more interesting than a person tripping and tossing off a shoe then not having the frame of mind to retrieve it. I’d like to think there was something more dramatic – an abduction or a fight or a modern-day Cinderella story.

There is a ghostly element to it, especially in the rain and the light of day, and a certain sorrow to the scene. It feels like something is missing – a notion of loss that is evoked when we are so accustomed to seeing shoes in pairs. Out on its own, a lone shoe looks lonely.

05
January
2023

Tags: Fashion, Male Models, Underwear

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Underwear by Dominic Albano

Recently featured as a Dazzler of the Day here, Dominic Albano launches his first foray into underwear this week, drawing on years of modeling and fashion experience. His self-monikered line features the sort of sexy designs he’s so proficient at showing off for other designers, and it’s always a treat when the designer can say they have walked a mile in the clothing they are selling.

Albano is coming off a scintillating retro-styled piece for the online version of Playgirl Magazine, and a retro-feel informs the promotional images for his current underwear campaign. The lighting and feel are moody, evoking and playing up the sultry gaze that Albano has come to embody in much of his modeling work. It’s the perfect sales pitch for underwear, which is largely about selling sex, but should also come with comfort and function. Both seem to play a part in the new line, which keeps the flashy and colorful excess of many other underwear offerings to a minimum, relying on basic neutrals and classic cuts.

Centering it all is Albano’s focused determination on building a brand and his familiarity with the product. There is a carefulness and deliberate cultivation of his image, but also a courage in doing things entirely his own way. Check out the new line of underwear at his website here.

05
January
2023

Tags: Cologne, Tom Ford

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Finding My Cherry

When Tom Ford released the scandalously-monikered ‘Lost Cherry’ it was somewhat of a let-down. Like ”Fucking Fabulous’ before it, the name was more exciting than the fragrance, and while I love and enjoy ‘Fucking Fabulous’, it doesn’t walk into a room and announce its presence with fanfare and electricity. It seduces in a quieter manner. ‘Lost Cherry’ simply lost me, with a rather cloying sugary element that might appeal more to the youth of today than the old curmudgeons like myself who want more oomph than sweetness.

So it was with a dose of skepticism intermingled with hope that I heard about two new cherry frags from the Tom Ford Private Blend collection – ‘Cherry Smoke’ and ‘Electric Cherry’ – whether they will be flankers or stand-upright on their own remains to be seen. Of the two, ‘Cherry Smoke’ sounds the most promising, and I could totally get on board if they’re going for a darker cherry vibe. That said, my nose tends to favor the fruity, as evidenced by the ‘New York Oud’ by Bond No. 9 which entranced me despite my reticence to sweet and fruit-like scents (nothing really Oud about it) so perhaps ‘Electric Cherry’ will be the one that brings me into Ford’s cherry-popping glory.

The new releases come at an opportune moment, right before Valentine’s Day, not unlike his exquisite Rose release last year. That one resulted in one of the more beautiful creations of Private Blend history – ‘Rose de Russie’ – which I enjoy to this very day. Will any of these new cherries strike similar sparks? We shall hopefully see…

04
January
2023

Tags: Music

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Adventure in The Turquoise Night

A piece of music has the power to paint its own pictures, just as much as a book or a play or a fable. Sometimes it can create more than a painting or a sculpture; those are set and stationary, whereas music is more malleable in its images. Such is the case with this magnificent work by Kayhan Kalhor – ‘Blue As The Turquoise Night of Neyshabur’ – here performed by Yo-Yo Ma and The Silk Road Ensemble. The stories that may be spun from hearing it run through the mind along myriad paths, each one slightly different, taking new turns and twists depending on the listener. It begins in a calm if slightly mysterious and tense tone, before gradually unfurling into a rollicking adventure.

Maybe it’s a love story, with all the tumult and passion of a first kiss. Maybe it’s a realization – a mystery slowly solved over the course of its fifteen minutes. Maybe it’s a journey, a trip we have taken to a new place, a new city, a new country. Maybe it’s a party, from the anticipatory preparation through the tense starting minutes to the bombastic climax when all the guests have assembled and the state of happy camaraderie crests in loud laughter and the majesty of merriment.

Listening to this on a dark January night when all that lay ahead were more dark January nights, I felt the gentle and insistent tug of art and beauty, the tantalizing wisp of imagination and inspiration, the call of some distant muse or siren. It was a tempting invitation to travel from the comforts of a conversation couch to any number of far-off lands and worlds. Why limit our experiences to what we can physically achieve when the body is so bound by time and place?

And so I listen to this piece of music, not looking up its genesis or background, not wanting to be influenced or nudged into something for the first few times I experience it. I want it to make its own way, choose its own adventure, conjure its own castles of creation. Make its own memory from a pile of mental rubble. My wrists ache, my knees are sore, my eyes are failing by the minute – the body begins the downward slope. The brain, such as it ever was, remains mostly intact – and the imagination, my one shining strength in a world of largely unimaginative comrades, is still sharply honed. It’s kept me going for all these 47 years, and it pushes me forward on this turquoise night, when I hear music that makes me feel like I can fly…

04
January
2023

Tags: Food

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Cheese & Apples

They were skeptical at first, the way they are with every new thing their Uncle Al has ever shown them, but after a dozen years of having their skepticism turn to delight, they were up to trying it. For this dinner on New Year’s day, after feasting at the family’s early lunch, we assembled a hodge-podge of random items after making a hasty trip to Price Chopper to procure whatever additional ideas they each had. Noah chose fruit and Emi chose Cheese – a Vermont Sharp Cheddar.

I told them to try it with a slice of apple. They looked at me as if I was kidding, or trying to get them to do something they wouldn’t like, even though I always end up giving them the best of what I’ve enjoyed thus far. And so they sampled a slice of cheese and apple and marveled at the wonder of them together. The way their eyes lit up, the surprise and delight they genuinely felt as the textures and tastes combined – this was the thrill of raising kids, and I rarely got to see such moments.

This summer, I will introduce them to melon and prosciutto.

03
January
2023

Tags: Family

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Our New Year’s Guests

The first guests of a New Year set the tone for the months to come. Well, not really, actually not at all, but our attic was graced by my niece and nephew on the first night of the year, so it sounds good. They are growing much taller and much too quickly – soon they will tower over us, though no shift in authority will take place. On this night, I promised them a dinner of appetizers, so we made a quick market run, then returned to set up lumpia, cocktail wieners, clementines, Vermonth cheddar cheese, Honeycrisp apples, various crackers and chips, a Rice Krispies treat, a pomegranate, pears, pineapple, Fresca, and a bag of five shrimp. It was, as Emi declared, the most random collection of food that they’d ever had for dinner. Welcome back to Uncle Al and Uncle Andy’s kitchen!

After ‘dinner’ we worked on some playlists for a possible trip to Boston (to make up for this one that the twins had to miss). Noah came up with the funkified portion of the list, while Emi suggested some Tay Tay Etcetera. We went to the basement to watch a movie and paint our nails, and then it was bedtime. After tucking them in, I read a few poems from Rumi, popped Bab’s Christmas Casserole in the oven, then hunkered down myself. All in all, it was a lovely start to the year.

03
January
2023

Tags: Mocktails

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Drinking the Blood of a Virgin

There is no better way to greet the iffy dawn of a new year than drinking from some bloody fountain of youth. In this case, the freshness of a Virgin Mary marked the first few moments of 2023, as I accessorized with enough garnishes to make this a light breakfast unto itself.

The Bloody Mary is one of the best cocktails to translate into a mocktail. Typically the vodka disappears into the tomato juice and horseradish, so you don’t miss much in the way of flavor. This one was amended with some fresh lemon juice, a few drops of hot sauce, a smidge of cocktail sauce (which may be redundant), some freshly ground pepper, and the garnishes seen here – celery, cilantro, olives, and a shrimp.

Those Bloody Mary bars you sometimes see are aspirational with the amount of additions now on offer. (I’ve seen lobster tails, lobster claws, bacon, oysters, peppers of all kinds, asparagus, okra, gherkins, and just about every pickled item imaginable.)

For this version, I kept things relatively simple, if a little tall. At the turn of an old year into a new one, you need a bit of loftiness.

I love a drink that makes itself so absolutely extra.

02
January
2023

Tags: Gardening

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Roses in the Darkest Season

The Lenten Rose is usually either the latest or earliest bloomer in the garden – and sometimes it is both. The last few times I’ve been in Boston, they have been holding onto their blooms, even during the wintry conditions that recent snowstorms have brought. I distinctly remember seeing their nodding heads on a dark night in an Uber ride with Andy. They were ghostly then, and oddly reassuring in their seasonal defiance.

During our recent gathering with the kids, I found this stand of them on Braddock Park, blooming away as if it were spring again. Such resilience is admirable, especially when so much of winter is yet to come.

Our own Lenten rose has never done an end-of-the-season show. Our winters are much too harsh, often much too early, for the plant to be tricked into such a quirk. They will slumber under the last of the snow melts away in March or April, then gently rise, somewhat torn and tattered until I clean them up and make some judicious pruning decisions. They are the first sign that spring is returning, and so seeing them at any time of the year reminds me of hope.

02
January
2023

Tags: General

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The First F-ing Recap of 2023

Only two days into the New Year and we are already looking back at shit. This is what happens when holidays fall on Sunday – it fucks everything up. Blame it on Mercury in retrograde – as I’m blaming everything for the next few weeks. God help us. On with the recap of all the year’s recaps…

Christmas came and went, but this juniper holiday post kept things festive.

Don’t sleep on meditation.

The December burn.

Hunkering down for Mercurial retro-hell.

Blue December sky breaking through the doldrums.

Leading the boring life.

Ring of fire: the first burn.

Ring of fire: the second burn.

2022 Rewind: The Year in Review ~ Part One.

2022 Rewind: The Year in Review ~ Part Two.

01
January
2023

Tags: General

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1-23

Dawn enters in gray garb, less of an entrance and more of a shifting of the light.

Another calendar year begins, the way humans mark their time.

It starts, like every year has, in stillness and silence. Forget the crazed stroke of midnight – my clock for the New Year begins at the first light of this morning. That is when the world is quiet. Contemplative. The way anything of true import should start. The way a calm year should start. We have had our fill of all that is tumultuous.

Looking outside, I see the tall bare stalks of the cup plant, next to the sturdy bands that remain of the fountain grass. When the sunlight is able to break through in the early afternoon, both are lit like flames against the sky and the dull landscape. In the morning, when there is no snow or wind, they stand still and silent, largely gray and unobtrusive despite their stature and prominence of place. Genuine presence requires no fanfare or pronouncement.

And so it is that we begin this year at ALANILAGAN.com – the 20^thyear of this website’s existence, so prepare for some double-decade anniversary celebrations. For now, let us begin in relative quiet. There will be other years for boffo New Year’s Day blog posts, such as this one set around ‘Circus’ by Britney Spears or this one featuring ‘The Greatest Show’. Even when I don’t try to go big and brash, a follow-up post often sneaks in the bombast. For this year, I’m back to a silent beginning – shades of gray and somber tones in look, feel, and sound.

In the reflections of trees in water, a change in perspective signals something deeper, a new way of looking at things, a different take on navigating life. So much has changed over the past few years, and so many of us are still reeling from the trauma of what have collectively been through. A worldwide pandemic hasn’t happened like this in a century – to think we are over it, mentally or emotionally or even realistically, is foolishness. We are all living in the trauma of it.

It has changed everything. Not all for the worse, and I’m lucky that my own evolution and discovery of meditation and therapy and a healthier way of living have coincided with such changes. Bringing those tools into the new year will prove helpful, and continue the trajectory that has seen me through the last couple of winters.

I invite you to come along for the next stage of the journey. It’s more fun with two.

31
December
2022

Tags: General

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The Year in Review ~ 2022: Part 2

Continuing the saga that was 2022, here is the wrap-up to the Year in Review. The second half picks up where we left off, right in the glory of mid-summer and all the fun-in-the-sun moments that make the season so wonderful. Summer lingered into September, and then the inevitable low slide into fall, and the very start of winter. Another calendar year has come and gone…

July 2022: Summer turns to high, and starts on a lazy mocktail note.

Bee balm.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!

Summer Speedo.

A summer day with Dad – my favorite day this summer.

Officer Andy.

A summer visit with an old friend.

Some flowers are like old friends, and sometimes they are even more reliable.

Bamboo high.

Summer resplendent.

Our 22nd Anniversary.

1000 days of not drinking… and counting.

A divine visit to Provincetown with good friends old and new re-jumpstarted the summer. It was an enchanting place and we had an enchanting time.

Highlight of the summer: the birth of my Godson, Jaxon Layne Ilagan. Welcome Baby Jax!

Familiar angels: the Connecticut Chronicle.

August 2022: The month of my birth, and the last full month of summer – August is bittersweet.

Once upon a time in your wildest dreams.

Another summer visitor, with whom I shared a meditation.

The sign of the rainbow.

Touching me, touching you.

Fading remnants of a full moon set to a song of smog.

August adventures with the Ilagan twins.

Madonna: finally enough love.

Family fun in the summertime.

Birthday suit post, because who knows how much longer I can keep this up.

Birthnight moodiness.

Scenes from a simple birthday.

September 2022: In which a Boston visit results in my first manicure, a practice to which I am now addicted so send me all the gift certificates, this spectacular trip to the Encore casino, and a lovely night in my favorite city.

Forewarned is fair-warned when it comes to getting touched by this Bishop of the Catholic Church.

Bringing the Ilagan twins to Boston to make a new kind of American history takes a lot out of everyone involved.

Dad’s 92nd birthday.

Last summer swim?

The lust for the naked life.

Summer Renaissance ~ dance with me, honey!

Summer Renaissance 2 ~ let’s dance again!

Autumn begins in flames.

Flames of a feather.

Andy’s return to the pie-making game.

Expressions of a Godson – hello Jaxon!

A birthday gift from two favorite friends.

Extinguishing the burn of one fire from the past.

Flaming September in the burning sheets.

A last letter to the first man who ever kissed me.

October 2022: Fall continues its slow-burn and smolder, with the release of a long-lost project and the usual Halloween shenanigans. You know, season of the wood witch and all.

Is this how sex smelled in the 90’s?

Andy’s canning enterprise.

The release of a once-problematic project finds greater resonance now more than ever.

This was ‘FireWater‘.

The fire of a saint.

A letter to a mad musical genius – and a friend.

Autumn in Ogunquit casts its own spell, and our return for the second time in a year was happy in the beauty and the company.

These ‘Assassins’ hit all their marks.

We walk in the woods to ease our minds.

A hint of aural sex.

30 years of Erotica and Sex, tinged with death.

Andy’s birthday and a family dinner celebrating it all.

More expressions from my Godson – the wonder that is Jaxon Layne.

Hand covers bruise.

Hangover hunger.

Three years of not drinking alcohol… and still counting.

Bet this made you look… at my dick.

November 2022: The month of thanks, beginning with this trial of a new holiday cake (spoiler alert: it was a hit).

Autumn lighting magic.

There is always room for meditation.

Swaying to a mood-enhancing song.

Openly Gray. #GrayPride

Green clouds of a matcha morning.

Candle calm.

Commencing sparkle sequence…

I can still make the whole place shimmer.

The gambler and the ham salad, and my very own set of Golden Girls.

Empty rooms of a young heart, waiting to be filled.

The new party scene.

‘Beautiful Stranger’ – the Madonna Timeline whirls onward.

Easing into the holiday season.

Tea time with Dad.

November finale.

December 2022: I which our calendar year comes to a close, with all the holiday drama and holiday mayhem you’ve come to expect at the most wonderful time of the year.

Holiday tales and their retelling.

Take a poll and ram it up your ass.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

The Holiday Card 2022: an offer you can’t refuse.

The New Godfather.

3M.

This year’s Holiday Stroll was one of my favorites, as Andy made the rounds instead of Kira.

Saving my Christmas spirit once again were these wonderful kids (well, pre-teens and current-teens) who reminded me what matters in the world, as well as introducing me to the World Cup.

The winter solstice at hand.

The eyes lost it long ago.

Christmas Eve with the family.

Rings of Fire: the first burn and all the other burns to follow.

Leaving the glamorous life behind for the boring life, and all the happier for it.

31
December
2022

Tags: General

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The Year in Review ~ 2022: Part 1

How shall you remember 2022? I’m not sure what constitutes a memory worth making, and maybe that’s why I don’t have many that come to mind. Still, there were notable moments, and there was some fun, and we made it through largely intact. There is something to be said for that. And now, let’s go back, let’s go back, let’s go way on way back when…