Closing the chapter on what was 2024 brings an uneasy sense of relief and trepidatious pleasure. Every time I look forward to a new anything, it comes with challenges and setbacks, and entering a new year, particularly one as potentially big as 2025, leaves me excited and scared. Before that, let’s send 2024 off with a fond farewell…
January 2024: A lot of New Years.
A fragrance to start a new year properly, courtesy of Le Labo.
Madonna, still ‘Crazy’ after all these years.
21 years of half-naked navel-gazing.
Madonna’s greatest comeback: The Celebration Tour.
Jeremy Allen White in his underwear.
February 2024: A first winter without Dad.
Future nostalgia: Part one and Part two.
Harry Styles in and out of his underwear.
The Middle Ages in Connecticut.
Tom Daley in a crocheted Speedo.
A return to Cape Cod in the middle of winter, when the sunsets carry a different sort of beauty.
March 2024: Tricks of Father Time.
Kira and I in Boston – the old team back in business.
After 35 years, everyone must still stand alone.
A gorgeous fragrance: Patchouli Ardent.
The bold and sexy style of Luke Evans.
The week the power went out in an ice storm.
The porcelain trappings of youth.
April 2024: An indulgence.
A purple reign weekend with friends old and dear, tried and true.
May 2024: Anniversary month.
An unremarkably remarkable anniversary spent with Andy in Boston. (It was so good it needed three parts.)
Coming into the Carnal Flower at last.
‘The Great Gatsby’ on Broadway.
A bittersweet return to Broadway with Mom turned out to be more sweet than bitter.
It’s too bad most journalists didn’t listen to or heed this dire warning.
The moon tried to hide but I found her.
June 2024: Our coquette summer was christened.
Our seaside retreat to the Beautiful Place By the Sea was as lovely as it always is. Ogunquit still works its magnificent magic.
A setting for the coquette day, and a setting for the coquette night.
Orville Peck got naked for Paper.
Pride Month – now more than ever.
Lace and leather and coquette dreams.
A first Father’s Day without a father.
I absolutely loved my first colonoscopy! Well, I loved a few key parts of it, and overall I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Maybe I’m just accustomed to putting my ass through the ringer.
The stars are blind and the coquette mystique is in effect.
The kind of blue not found in the flag.
A mass of neuroses belies a coquette summer.
Boston begins summer in beauty and rains just a little on our parade.
We don’t have to take our clothes off to have a good time.
June ended with a second coquette summer playlist, setting the scene for the rest of the year to follow…
