Cheating Destiny on Grindr

What did we do in the days before Grindr or Tinder or Match? How did we meet people before social media put everyone in our backyard – hell, in our bedrooms and bathrooms? Having met my husband a decade and a half ago, I remember the days before our computers or cel phones opened a portal to the world.

Back then we didn’t have instant access to like-minded individuals who shared our love of Madonna. We couldn’t easily connect with or identify those who had a similar obsession with Blanche’s bathrobes on ‘The Golden Girls‘. We had to rely solely on the tricky touch of destiny and luck, putting blind faith in some greater unseen power, trusting that love would find its way into our lives. The chance encounter in the subway, the random run-in in a grocery store, the incidental meeting in a bar, or the casual introduction by a friend – these were the haphazard ways we stumbled upon love in the olden days.

That’s not to say that there aren’t wonderful and lucky couples who have met online and through social sites. And part of me, the cynical, cold, analytical and pragmatic part – feels the best way to have a lasting relationship is to find someone you’re perfectly compatible with and take the difficulties out of compromise and arguments.

Yet the other part of me, the hidden romantic, the guy who believes in love at first sight and star-crossed lovers and all the co-dependent gooey stuff we’re not supposed to believe in, still thinks there’s a place for destiny.

If I’d had to rely on a dating site to pair me up with Andy, it would never have happened. I would not have checked Cars/Automobiles as an interest. He would not have put Thai as a favorite food. I would have steered clear of anyone having anything to do with the police. He would have avoided anyone who was anxiously waiting for the next Tom Ford Private Blend to be released (‘Venetian Bergamot’ in a few weeks– eek!!!) The point is, based on paper and facts and self-admitted traits, we would never would have met. But love doesn’t work that way. When fate stepped in during the last hours of a rainy Sunday evening fifteen years ago, and I saw Andy across an empty old-fashioned gay bar, it was not something that could have been orchestrated by every single preference we could have fed into a computer.

I think if I’d met someone through one of the social sites, I’d always wonder if it was real. If it was meant to be. If it wasn’t forced or manufactured. Given just how different Andy and I can sometimes be, yes, there are also moments where I wonder if it might be easier. But I wouldn’t change knowing him for anything, and I wouldn’t trade the worlds he’s opened up to me, and vice versa, for the ease of instant compatibility. I’m just weird like that. The best things rarely come easily. They are rich and wondrous and worth the work that destiny requires for such magic.

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Before the Sun Sets…

On my very first tour, in the ancient time of 1995, ‘Sunset Boulevard’ (the musical version) played a big part in inspiration and wardrobe. The drama-heavy themes of Norma Desmond, her unrequited love for Joe Gillis, and her insatiable love for herself, were a necessary training ground for campy excess and histrionic emotional warfare. On the surface, it was a diva’s delight – sumptuous costumes and accessories, fringed lamps, and a car upholstered in leopard – but going deeper there was a fractured and highly-sensitive soul tortured by the ticking of time, and the cold-uncaring eyes of “a world that passed her by.” Those eyes included those of Mr. Gillis, and for my last tour (soft opening August 1!) I am revisiting the Boulevard, only this time I’m not playing up the role of Ms. Desmond… not yet.

Sunset Boulevard, twisting boulevard
Secretive and rich, a little scary
Sunset Boulevard, tempting boulevard
Waiting there to swallow the unwary

Dreams are not enough to win a war
Out here they’re always keeping score
Beneath the tan the battle rages

Smile a rented smile, fill someone’s glass
Kiss someone’s wife, kiss someone’s ass
We do whatever pays the wages

Sunset Boulevard, headline boulevard
Getting here is only the beginning
Sunset Boulevard, jackpot boulevard
Once you’ve won you have to go on winning

This will be a full-circle tour. Back in 1995, I was very much obsessed with Ms. Desmond and her glorious staircase at 10086 Sunset Boulevard. At the time, I felt an affinity with Norma and her pining away for a man who didn’t love her, someone who was doomed by her own delusions of grandeur, yet frightened and scared of the world at the same time. She exhibited a brittle fragility somehow bound with steely strength and determination, and a belief in herself and her own charm that carried her through the long years of being left alone. It could not have been a happy life, but it certainly held a note of fascination, dark and morbid and hopeful all at once.

This time around I’m channeling Joe Gillis, who always paled in comparison to Norma’s fierce spotlight-seeking heat, but who carried his own tale of disillusionment and dashed dreams. In fact, his story may have been a little sadder – at least Norma reached those heights once in her life – Joe never got that chance to soar.

Sunset Boulevard, frenzied boulevard
Swamped with every kind of false emotion
Sunset Boulevard, brutal boulevard
Just like you, we’ll wind up in the ocean

She was sinking fast, I threw a rope
Now I have suits and she has hope
It seemed an elegant solution

One day this must end, it isn’t real
Still I’ll enjoy a hearty meal
Before tomorrow’s execution

Sunset Boulevard, ruthless boulevard
Destination for the stony-hearted
Sunset Boulevard, lethal boulevard
Everyone’s forgotten how they started
Here on Sunset Boulevard!

COMING SOON:

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star ~ 2015-2016

 

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REVIEW: ‘West Side Story’ at the Mac-Haydn Theatre

By this point in human history the whole star-crossed-lovers thing can get kind of old. Yet the very reasons that make it so trite are those that make it so timelessly true. Leonard Bernstein, Arthur Laurents and Stephen Sondheim knew this when re-telling the classic Romeo and Juliet story. Set in the Bronx of the 1950’s it tells the tragic tale of Tony and Maria, who find themselves in love amid a world that only wants to keep them apart. As cultures clash, and society struggles to deal with the quickly-changing face of New York, rival gangs circle in a battle to the death.

While remaining faithful to the original is often frowned-upon in these days of revival fatigue, there’s something profoundly smart in holding onto the very essence of what makes a show good, and in this case giving the audience what they want. That’s going on now at the Mac-Haydn Theatre. (It’s reportedly the most requested musical that the Mac-Haydn produced this year, and is set to run for three weeks accordingly.)

This production hits the stage running, literally. Full-throttle, thrillingly-choreographed action opens the evening – an indication that the most powerful portions of the evening will be told through music and dance. As expertly directed by James Kinney (who keeps the inventive work of Jerome Robbins alive and kicking), movement plays as integral a role to the proceedings as music, though Bernstein’s genius may beg to differ. Moving, majestic and overtly romantic passages of balletic beauty are balanced and punctuated by jarring punches of dissonant chords and foot-stomping fights.

The heart of the show belongs, for better or worse, to the leads – and many a ‘West Side Story’ has skidded off the tracks based on the castings of Tony or Maria. Luckily, Jarrett Jay Yoder and Mia Pinero are more than equipped at conveying the emotional core of their doomed love affair. Yoder’s voice is a veritable force-of-nature, and he’s at his most impressive when belting out emotion in a song, subtly drawing forth the raw ache of the heart in an arresting falsetto. Pinero matches his talent in delicacy and gorgeousness, and her transformation from winsome innocent to world-weary almost-widow is the evening’s most delicious, and rewarding, surprise.

The rest of the cast is far more than supporting, particularly the fiery performances of Veronica Fiaoni as Anita (absolutely stealing every scene she’s in) and the impassioned rendering by William Raff, bringing a palpable intensity to his Bernardo. In fact, it’s the intricate ensemble work and the way the cast works as a whole that fuels this ‘Story’ and sets it soaring. Witness the ‘Tonight’ Quintet – widely considered to be one of the greatest scenes in musical theater history.  It’s a highlight of this production, with Kinney making the most of the Mac-Haydn’s in-the-round stage construction as a prelude to the Act I finale.

‘West Side Story’ is a reminder that love is never wasted, love is never lost, even if it’s just for a night. When two people come together like that, it’s not something that circumstance or cultural differences can ever truly kill. You may stop a heart from beating, but you can’t stop it from loving. Love will always endure.

{“West Side Story” runs until August 9, 2015. Call 518-392-9292 for information and reservations, or order on-line at www.machaydntheatre.org at any time. Featured photos by the Mac-Haydn staff.}

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The Vreeland Vroom

The great Diana Vreeland plays a major inspirational role in the creation of the new Tour Book. Her love of a super-saturated red, for example, informs the color palette for the book. Sometimes I catch myself trying to tone things down for certain events (weddings and what-not) but Ms. Vreeland never did that. At work, I don’t do that either, hence this Cynthia Crowley folder design that decorates the office with a punch of color. (I have a matching pencil holder and clips to go with it.) There is something to be said for the softer, subtler entrance – but embarking upon one’s Final Tour is neither the time nor place for quietude and gentleness. Instead, I am hitting hard and bold, and living up to the dramatic name I’ve created. It may not be real, but it’s fitting for this last time.

To live as unapologetically and unabashedly as Ms. Vreeland and Ms. Crowley, embracing one’s love for powerful hues and anything-but-delicate color is a lesson in fortitude, strength, self-expression, and pride. It is the power to be so completely yourself that confidence comes as second nature. If you project something long enough, it eventually comes to be, whether you believe in it or not. The opposite proves true too, which means that habit can be dangerous, and stagnation may only breed further stagnation. Once a rut finds footing, it’s difficult to change the path. But not impossible.

I’ve done it.

And I’ll do it again. One final time.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star

The curtain goes up August 1, 2015

Kindly take your seats…

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Cars For Andy

This post is a gift to my husband, who loves all things to do with cars and automobiles, antique and otherwise. I only know what the last one is, because it sits beside our driveway. As for the other ones, if you’re interested in knowing the make and model and year , you should contact Andy directly. He can talk cars for days, and he knows his shit.

Though they’re not my cup of tea, I can appreciate the artistry of some of the older cars, such as the fancy ones on display at the Saratoga Automobile Museum (of which Andy is unsurprisingly a member).

If he throws in dinner in Saratoga, I’m always game for another visit.

And sometimes, I need look no further than my own front yard to see a car show.

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A Decade And A Half With Andy

Exactly fifteen years ago tonight, I first met the man who would become my husband. On a rainy day that had suddenly cleared for the evening, I saw him across the room, and we locked hearts before we realized what was happening. As we get older, and our lives align into one, there is a deeper resonance that rings on such occasions. It feels like an accomplishment as much as it feels like any other day. We are lucky and blessed, yet we each have to work at it from time to time. A happy marriage is as much about compromise and work as it is about rainbows and unicorns, yet there is no greater happiness than a shared life.

Once upon a time I felt the need to sing and shout about such things. These days, we enjoy each other on a quieter level, with a deeper understanding, and the wonderful richness of a decade and a half together. Happy Anniversary, Drew!

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Pretty Survivor

A petunia, pink and true, peeked out from the sidewalk and arrested me in my tracks. I backed up a few steps, stalling my Monday morning stroll from Starbucks to the office, and paused in its pink glory. It seemed to peer up and over the little sidewalk crack where its roots made their home. A hidden anchor that had protected its existence up until now. The early morning sun lit it from behind, throwing a shadow longer than the bloom itself, and illuminating its bright cream throat.

It was not a perfect bloom. How could it be, in such circumstances and harsh surroundings? Slightly tattered, spotted in pale splashes of something, and smaller than its more carefully-cultivated cousins, it would not win any flower show awards. Yet there was magnificence to it. Valiantly blooming in a well-tread spot that could have trampled less-resilient beauties, it held its colorful head as high as it could, and in a sea of concrete it was the one object that caught my attention and admiration. For such a tiny thing, it packed a powerful visual punch, aided by the sun and perhaps its non-descript background.

On a Monday morning, when downtown Albany was under siege by fumes of horse dung and college-kid vomit, made more unbearable by the heat and humidity already in effect before 8 AM, this little petunia was a bright spot of color. Of imperfect beauty and flawed nobility. It shouted “Look at me!” then tugged at the heart.

Hopefully nobody steps or urinates on it.

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Classic Beefcake Pin-Ups

This won’t go as far back as when those first beefcake pin-ups of muscle-bound men began appearing in service of ‘working out’ – those go back further than most of us realize. Instead, a round-up of more-recent beefcake posers, some classics and some should-be classics. Now and then an immaculate collection of a shirtless sort is needed. No time like the present… and speaking of presents

First up is the fabulously fit Phil Fusco. He inspires a lot of ‘F’ words, as evidenced here and in his very first featured post a while ago. He also fared finely in his first Hunk of the Day spot. In fact, he’s probably due for another…

Second, the ever-brilliant Ben Cohen, who is currently working on his autobiography, and his line of grooming products, is a must-see in these recent shirtless shots, exemplifying his hirsute fitness. (Rumors abound that he has an underwear photo shoot coming up.)

Third, the heroic Chris Evans, who is a timeless pin-up guy for any generation. He’s been in practically-naked GIFs here before, and completely nude as well. He also gets to represents some hot and heavy collections like these.

Finally, a gratuitous slice of ginger beefcake in the spectacular Seth Fornea. He too has played a stunning visual part on posts featuring male nudity and the like, or simply standing alone in his own glory.

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A Very Special Birthday Wish List

Go to the wood and bring me back…

This August will see me turning 40 years old. While some may see no reason in celebrating such a milestone (and I may be one of them) I’ll be damned if I don’t take advantage of the once-in-a-lifetime moment and put forth a wish list worthy of such a fat number. This one is for my parents and husband, who, when left to their own devices, do their best but occasionally miss the mark when it comes to gift ideas. As in so many other arenas of my life, guessing what I might like for a present is dangerously difficult territory. I know this, I acknowledge this, and I apologize for it. Let this wish list go some way toward alleviating the pressure and the guess-work. (And they say I don’t care!)

First up is the most elusive and difficult to find. As of now, it is completely sold out everywhere, but whispers of it on ebay have reached my ears, and “if you want something badly enough the whole world conspires to help you get it.” These are the gorgeous  Jeremy Scott Adidas Wings 3.0 “Gold”, Size 9.5 or 10 designed by the brilliant Jeremy Scott (I will make either size work for a thing of such beauty.) Being the hardest to procure, by natural design they are the ones I want the most. If anything would mark my 40th in a special way, these golden wings would be it. (Again, Size 9.5 or 10 would work, and these are not to be mistaken for similar wing-tips that Mr. Scott has produced – these are the ADIDAS JEREMY SCOTT WINGS 3.0 GOLD SNEAKERS. No substitutes or frauds.

Second, as if on cue, Tom Ford is about to release a new Private Blend – Venetian Bergamot – and on paper it combines two of my favorite things: Tom Ford and bergamot. The former has long been a bastion of this blog, and the latter has been a favorite scent of mine for years. We won’t even get into the fascination and allure that Venice holds. (Surely you remember ‘The Venetian Vanity Ball’ we threw in 2005?) Another sign that this one is meant to be: according to Neiman Marcus, it will be shipped out on my actual birthday, August 24. Thank you, Tom Ford.

Third, a wish of a whiff from across the pond comes courtesy of British gent Richard E. Grant and his ‘Jack’ fragrance. Cries for the Union are answered in this delicious cologne, which feels perfect for the march from summer into fall, and I like to set these things up early.

Finally, given that I’m about to go on my final tour, just send me somewhere fun and far. San Francisco, London, Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles – all would be welcome and fitting jaunts for The Delusional Grandeur Tour. It will be my very last stand, commemorated by my 40th birthday, and a guaranteed something to remember.

Bring me these before the chime of midnight…

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Summer Weekend Recap

Henry James thought that there was no finer pair of words than ‘summer afternoon’ – but, as I often do with his writing, I also take issue with that statement. ‘Summer weekend’ has a much lovelier ring to it. This past one was just about perfect in every way. Our house was filled with dear old friends, and some youngsters, the weather was sunny and hot, and the pool was a perfect 85 degrees. I didn’t want it to end. None of us wanted it to end. Yet that is the very thing that makes a memory most happy. One last look back over the week that led up to it.

A bit of lace, fit for a queen, came in the form of this classic summer flower.

An unorthodox choice for Hunk of the Day, James Corden proves that Hunkdom comes in all shapes and sizes.

A more traditional Hunk was gay Australian bob-sledder Simon Dunn.

As we near August, we approach my 40th birthday. For better or worse…

Speaking of which, here’s an entry for my upcoming birthday wish list: Jack cologne by Richard E. Grant.

Derek Yates was crowned for a second time, while Scotty Dynamo and Danny Perez, Jr. popped their Hunk cherries.

Cuteness to the extreme.

My half-naked turn as the naked chef.

The promotional push for the New Tour ~ ahem, the Final Tour ~ began in earnest.

This shall be The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star.

And you will Surrender.

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Pool Tour Teaser: Surrender

No more wars to fight
White flags fly tonight
You are out of danger now
Battlefield is still
Wild poppies on the hill
Peace can only come when you surrender
Here the tracers fly
Lighting up the sky
But I’ll fight on to the end
Let them send their armies 
I will never bend
I won’t see you now ’till I surrender
I’ll see you again when I surrender.

COMING SOON:

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star ~ 2015-2016

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A Tour Is Named

The naming of a Tour is of paramount importance. It sets the whole tone for all that follows, for the themes that the Tour Book will explore, for whatever is on my mind of late. For one’s Final Tour, it becomes even more significant. This is how things will be remembered. The Final Chapter. The Last Hurrah. The Grand Finale.

The list of previous tours is evidence that the name is critical in conveying what will be examined and celebrated. Sometimes they are simple and straightforward, other times they are multi-layered and imbued with deeper symbolism and double-implications. All of them have meant something intensely personal to me, and hopefully to some of you:

  • Chameleon in Motion: The Friendship Tour – 1995
  • The Magical Mystery Tour: Master of Manipulation – 1996
  • The Royal Rainbow World Tour: Alan Is King! – 1997 (and oh how I regret that last part, with an exclamation point no less)
  • The Talented Trickster Tour: Reflections of a Floating World – 2003
  • The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale – 2005/2006
  • A 21st Century Renaissance: The Resurrection Tour – 2010

This time around, with the albatross of history languidly chugging alongside the desire for an unbound future, I wanted to do something that acknowledged the big reveal of this tour. It deconstructs all that came before, while simultaneously playing up the very notion it sets out to destroy.

In the end it could only come down to this:

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star

Make of it what you will…

And get ready to rock…

One Last Time.

I don’t want to be alone, that’s all in the past.

This world’s waited long enough, I’ve come home at last.

~ Norma Desmond

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Thar He Blows

“It’s not a mad hatter’s tea party. It’s meant to be a sensual, erotic display. You’re there to get a new husband, a new boyfriend, a new girlfriend, whatever. And you can get it. The hat is a means to an end, a marriage contract. It’s everything. It’s a sensual thing – the idea of catching somebody like a spider in a web. It’s the old fashioned cock-and-hen story, the mating dance. Men love hats. They love it because it’s something they have to take off in order to fuck you. Anyone can wear a hat.” – Isabella Blow

Tomorrow, the New Tour is christened with a name. Come back for the big reveal.

#TheFinalTour

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Cooking in the Nude: Hot Buns

How does the Naked Chef do it? There are so many dangers, so many burn risks. And sometimes an apron just isn’t enough. But sometimes it is. Especially in the summer. This brief collection of gratuitous gourmet shots is an homage to all those cooks who trouble and toil in the kitchen, like Martha Stewart, Jamie Oliver, Lidia Matticchio Bastianich, Joanne Weir, and Dinah herself (strumming on the old banjo).

I don’t get to cook as much as I’d like, and I’m actually pretty decent at it. (I’m less gifted at the cleaning-up aspect, as Andy will attest.) But the creation and the preparation? Absolutely. It satisfies some of my creative drive, and recipes appeal to my love of scientific order and transformation.

Some favorite dishes that I’ve succeeded in executing over the years include the following:

Tom Yummy.

Tied-up meat.

Chicken and olives and oranges, oh my!

Kickin’ it with the quinoa.

A Great Crepe Caper.

Guacamole!

Kimchi fried rice and the all-important fried egg.

Beet it.

Pasta and vodka.

Super scallops.

A meal fit for a prostitute.

For (and from) the family.

Everybody’s favorite brownies.

And don’t forget the cocktails.

Rest assured, if I can handle them, you can. I prefer the simple, tried and true rather than the exotic and elaborate, so these are easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. Get your apron ready.

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Hopping Cute

Rabbits are not customarily welcome in our yard, no matter how cuddly and cute they are. This year, however, we have so many weeds in the lawn they’ve been doing us a favor by keeping them at bay, and leaving our more precious commodities alone. This little guy/gal has been peacefully hanging around the front, nibbling on crab grass (and occasionally rising on his/her haunches to chew on some Clethra, which normally is not cool, but it needed to be trimmed back anyway).

I don’t recommend fostering this type of behavior, because it’s only a matter of time before the weeds run out and they discover the delicious sweet potato vines on the patio. Then the battle will begin. For now, though, I’m enjoying the cuteness.

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