A Recap From A Social Distance

More than a trend, social distancing may be the lifesaving move that keeps millions safe, provided we all practice it. I don’t have much faith that America can do that. But if I can forego a fabulous weekend in New York, then you can stop going out for a couple of weeks. I’m not here to preach – I’m here to entertain and work out my own creative outlet in the process. It also turns out that this little corner of the internet is a space where some have found comfort along with entertainment and exasperation. We will get through this together. So pull up a chair, grab your tea or coffee, take a deep breath – no, really, stop and take a deep breath – slowly in and slowly out – drop your hunched shoulders a bit, and relax for this recap of things that were supposed to happen this week, things that did happen, and things that didn’t. It was all meant to unfold exactly as it did. 

I was going to wear this bejeweled coat beneath the bright lights of Broadway this weekend – it was something I’d been working on for the past three months – and perhaps the lesson and enjoyment was in the work getting there rather than any ostentatious show. 

When the music didn’t play.

Daniel Craig went shirtless while his Bond movie got delayed.

Ricky Martin and Enrique Iglesias may be making some beautiful music together. 

Wash your hands like you were washing these naked male celebrities

Dinner with an old friend

Paperwhites on parade.

Plans change, plots fizzle, but friendship remains

Hidden hints of spring

Citrus dreaming

New Boston bedding.

Boston blues

Bare naked solitude.

Hunks of the Day included Sergio Guadarrama, Carl Radke, Will Taylor and Cody Fern

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Evening in Solitude

“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

Alone in the bedroom, on a day when the sky is blanketed and buffeted by a cover of clouds, I stand before a window illuminated by the sort of bright gray that could denote the first light of the morning, or the last light of the day. In this case it is the latter, and I wonder if loneliness is more pronounced first thing in the morning or in the early reaches of night. Each holds its ghostly splendor, each holds its haunted dreams.

“The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.” ~ Michel de Montaigne

Somewhere along the line society got it in its warped head that solitude was bad. We have since, particularly in the last decade or so, made it so that we are never alone. Within our hands is a device that can connect us to millions of other people with a tap and a swipe. We have the capability of reaching out to the rest of the world, and they in turn have a way of reaching us. Even when we’re alone, we’re never really alone – there’s always somewhere nearby to plug in, to reconnect, to dip into the relentless flow of information. Yet all of it is mere distraction. It seems we’ve spent our technological advances just to feel less alone, and less lonely, but it hasn’t really worked out that way. In the way of the most sinister fables and legends, we’ve only ended up growing further apart. And so I return to solitude, in an attempt to find out how to be alone again.

“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.” ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

There is peace here. And a sense of quiet that doesn’t happen all that often these days. I’m told it’s especially elusive when one has children. I’m thankfully unburdened by such a lifestyle damper, but even I have difficulty locating the silence in this world. There’s always a neighbor, an alarm, a machine, a phone, a message, an alert – and the notion of an extended period of unadulterated quiet is a rare luxury indeed. Still, if you work at it, you can find such places. Sometimes you have to work very hard, and occasionally you have to force the issue and create the atmosphere through planning and preparation. Then, you might have a chance of slipping into the silence…

The noise of the softest coat against cool, naked skin.

The clamor of a feather drifting down from a bed pillow.

The screaming of a candle flame shifting in the air.

“Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.” ~ Honore de Balzac

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Boston in Blue

“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.” ~ Charlotte Bronte

It’s been a while since I’ve had an evening alone in Boston. Usually I’m lucky enough to have Kira by my side, but even for those get-togethers I’m occasionally on my own while she finishes up at work or attends swim lessons (don’t ask). I’d forgotten the calm and peace being alone can afford. Some part of me has missed that, and I didn’t realize that until I had – or, more accurately, made – the opportunity for some alone time.

It came at the time of the day that can either be the most hopeful, or the most frightening. Dusk in the fall and winter more often errs on the side of the latter, eliciting loneliness even for the least lonely among us. There is a sadness when the day dims, especially if the wind is on the rise and the temperature is on the decline. Even in the beauty of the moment – and the sky does some miraculous things when it’s turning the sun down – there is something haunting and sorrowful about the close of a day.

Against all that blue, however, our cozy little condo glows warmly, a safe respite against the dying winter. Its last throes can be its worst, and it’s best not to let down every bit of guard until May at the earliest. We are not quite out of the woods, and even in summer there are shadows.

As the evening curtain falls, the sky deepens in its blue the way the ocean darkens as it goes deeper. It’s a lovely shift of gradient, mirroring the nearby sea in scope and expanse. The notion of all that space is daunting. It has frightened some in the antithetical way of those who find panic in confined spaces. Too much of either makes many of us uncomfortable. Time is like that too. And once in a while a single evening stretches out across the darkening firmament like an endless map of stars.

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Paradise on a Boston Bed

After several seasons of using this Marimekko bed collection, I decided that this spring the Boston condo needed a breath of new life. Nothing updates a small space better than new bedding, so I found this subdued chartreuse duvet cover with a hint of chinoiserie. The entwined tendrils of tropical vines and birds of exotic plumage lend it the perfect look to see us through the rest of summer too. While the brightness of the Marimekko was a boon to the warmer months, this one has a richness and depth that I like, and temperature-wise it’s just as cool. As we are all getting older it’s time to appreciate such a shift; the light, flighty, flimsy trappings of spring and youth will not last, and it’s important to recognize that. It need not be something that we mourn – we were all young once – and the important thing is to keep your heart and mind youthful while embracing the advance of age and, ideally, wisdom.

To contrast the golden aspect of this particular shade of green, I found a touch of deep aquamarine in a couple of textured pillows. I love the way these colors play off each other, a variation of certain wedding invitations and decorations.

It’s precisely the jolt the bedroom needed at this time of the year, when all is bright and hopeful, and the grays and browns of this early stage need a little extra push of color. Come May and June the outside will have caught up to the inside, but for now this is what will have to do. Enchantment is often conjured by mind over matter.

As for spring, it is but a week away, and I can’t wait. A promise kept is reassurance that the world is occasionally kind, and spring is a more reliable covenant than a rainbow.

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Citrus Dreams

A lifelong dream: to have the ideal conditions and climate to grow citrus trees, whether indoors or outside, a garden room or a warmer latitude. The idea of such a garden room has been haunting me for decades, especially when we limp into the final stretch of winter. Lemon trees and lime trees, despite their tart fruit, have the sweetest blossoms. Oranges too. To have access to that perfume at this time of year has proved an elusive goal. Even the greenhouses up here seem to have a tough time with their citrus, or maybe they just sell so quickly I don’t notice them enough.

There is nothing more soul-satisfying than taking in a deep breath of a lemon flower on a bitter winter morning, a moment that recalls scenes of tropical splendor even if you’ve never been to paradise. I’ve created my own connotation, using the sweet fragrance of the orange blossom to indicate a summer day – no matter how hot it might get (what luxury to complain of the heat!) the perfume instantly conjures refreshment and a cooling calm. It has rescued many a heat-wave-beleaguered visit to Boston and New York. It’s also accompanied me poolside on those lazy days when all you need is a book and a glass of iced tea.

Alas, until we get notified about winning the HGTV Dream House in South Carolina or the latest Powerball drawing, such things as a garden room with a grove of citrus trees will have to occupy dreams of the day and night. We will make other arrangements, perhaps an orange blossom soap, or a neroli cologne, to conjure the enchantment of the citrus bloom.

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Hints of Spring Hidden

In the micro-climate behind our grill, a daffodil has already poked the first straps of its green leaves through the ground, along with a flower bud. I hadn’t been looking for such signs of life because it’s much earlier than they usually appear, but it caught my attention as I made one of the first surveys of the yard. It gave me a thrill of hope, not so much for the global warming as for the return of spring. Even if this was a tease and a great big snowstorm comes to take it all away, we’re nearing the best time of the year. It put me in the mind of summer days and pool gatherings

We have a minor revamping of our pool in the works for this year – a new liner and stairs if all goes according to plan – and such thoughts are happy and plausible goals to have. To get there, though, requires some forethought, and that’s what I do best. I’ve been making an earnest attempt to live in the moment, but the Virgo in me adores a plan of action, however loose or subject to change it may be. With a basic structure in place, all the adornments can be made, and adornments are the best part of life.

Since we moved in to our home almost two decades ago, we’ve both been chagrined by having to use a ladder to get in and out of the pool. A set of steps would be easier on Andy’s back, more aesthetically pleasing, and afford additional lounging opportunities for visitors to the pool. (And I don’t mean the squirrels.)

There have been a lot of changes to our yard in the last few years. A pair of cherry trees bloomed reliably early every spring, but eventually grew too big for their allotted space and had to be excised. A small patch of lilies of the valley took over the edge of the yard and now pokes up through the lawn, but they’re so pretty I’ve left them alone for now. The thin row of Thuja ‘Green Giant’ plants have grown into a living wall that threatens to overtake the narrow walkway along which it grows. We lost two prime specimens of Fargesia nitida – the fountain bamboo – part of the mass-flowering and subsequent die-off that only occurs once a century; I will look to find a couple to replace them now that that batch has finished its die-off. Such is the promise of the garden – no matter what has happened, there’s always a chance to grow again.

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A Pair of Straights on a Birthday & an Anniversary

There was a long stretch of my life in which I was terrified of straight men. They were the ones who called me a fag, the ones who threatened with violence and brute force because they couldn’t argue with wit or intelligence. It took a long time to understand that they were the ones who felt threatened and small, that their actions were the stuff of insecurity and weakness. Once I realized that, they were no longer to be feared. Of course, realizing this on an intellectual level is much different than exercising it in daily life, so it took a while before I welcomed straight men into my world, but in 1995 I started to do just that with Suzie’s friend Chris.

We were about as different as two people could be, but somehow our friendship slowly grew over the next couple of years, jumpstarted and solidified with an infamous trip to Puerto Rico, and since then he’s been one of those friends who have become family by choice and deliberate selection. Chris taught me that straight men could be as sensitive and compassionate as anyone else, sometimes even more-so, as he wore his heart on his sleeve and was in many ways much more sensitive than me. He opened up a world of friendship that was refreshingly devoid of competition (we would never be going after the same person) and all the other stereotypically-challenging but nonetheless-true difficulties of friendships with women and gay men. It was a profound relief to be friends with a straight guy ~ it removed so many concerns and reminded me of childhood friendships that had long since dissolved in the wilderness of adolescence. My friendship with Chris opened me up to other friendships, and he was one of the first to help me broaden my narrow viewpoint and break down my barriers. I met him twenty-five years ago this month, so this weekend we are celebrating the silver anniversary of our friendship with a stay at the Plaza, a play, and a Betty Buckley concert. (See below.)

In addition to that, we are celebrating something else. About fifteen years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting my friend Sherri’s husband Skip for the first time. He’s probably appeared in more stories and posts than most because he’s the webmaster for all that you see here, and better than that he’s become a treasured friend. Like Chris, he has a certain social charisma that I’ve always lacked ~ and those are the people that I love to be around because they’ve made it their mission for people to love to be around them ~ their lives are designed to be such because they like people around them at all times. I tend to prefer a quieter and more solitary existence. That we continually get along so well is one of the magical mysteries of friendship.

Today is Skip’s birthday, and we’ll be celebrating with cocktails (and mocktails) at the Plaza, followed by dinner, and capped with the first preview of ‘Plaza Suite’ – so Happy Birthday! Rain check…

{PS – At the time this was originally written, these were the plans. Given the shutdown of Broadway, the advice not to travel, and the general insanity of the world, we are forced to make other plans, so stay tuned for the denouement of this!}

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Paperwhites on Parade

They were a bunch of runts. The forgotten and discarded. I’d almost given up completely on them, not intentionally ~ neglect by omission, and is there anything worse? Even destruction in the name of anger has merited some bit of emotion. Being forgotten is a more terrible fate. It implies you never mattered in the first place.

Luckily, in this instance it wasn’t too late. They called to me in the garage, with bits of green and the smallest swords of cream emerging from the top of their papery brown bulbs. Maybe it was the emerging leaves of an early fig tree that reminded me of forgotten things. Whatever the case, I found the bag of paperwhite narcissus bulbs just in time, then planted them in some gravel, watered them well, and then they instantly grew, quicker and faster than their predecessors did back in the fall. They weren’t quite as high, but they smelled just as distinctly, their perfume a potent reminder of the past, their blooms gathered in bunches of sterling stars. It wasn’t too late after all ~ a lovely reminder for those of us lacking in patience and too ready for rash motions.

So many lessons in life come from the garden, even if the garden is a glass bowl of gravel and a forgotten bunch of papery bulbs.

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Dinner with an Old Friend

Trading out booze for sparkling water, and a fried onion blossom for a frisee salad, Suzie and I found ourselves in a slightly different place than we would have been twenty or even ten years ago as we set up at dinner at Provence. After browsing West Elm and enjoying the short walk in the light of the setting sun (on that glorious 70 degree day!) we settled into our meal and caught up on where life had taken us since we last visited New York at the end of January. Time goes by too quickly between visits these days, even if social distancing isn’t the worst thing one could do to close out this winter. (We went hugless just to be safe.) 

On a day and night that brought out a full super-moon, and the final throes of Mercury in retrograde, there was comfort and security in spending some time with Suzie. It was a nice reminder that there is still some stability in the world, that there are people on whom you could still count and consider as true.  

After dinner, we searched for a bit of dessert, ultimately settling on some chocolates from Pearl Grant Richman when the line at the ice cream place proved too ridiculously long on the first warm day of the year. A sweet ending to a sweet evening. 

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Wash Your Hands Like You Were Washing These Naked Male Celebrities

PSA: how to wash your hands – vigorously, with soap and warm water for at least 20 seconds. It’s not that difficult, though most people aren’t accustomed to the full 20 seconds. The memes have been popping up all over given the coronavirus hysteria of late, so here’s a more pleasant way of guiding your hand-washing techniques. 

Wash your hands like you were washing Nick Jonas.

Wash your hands like you were washing Ronnie Woo.

Wash your hands like you were washing Chris Hemsworth.

Wash your hands like you were washing Zac Efron.

Wash your hands like you were washing Idris Elba.

Wash your hands like you were washing Jason Momoa.    

Wash your hands like you were washing Henry Cavill.

Wash your hands like you were washing Chris Evans.

Wash your hands like you were washing Tyson Beckford.

 

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Latin Hunks United: Ricky Martin & Enrique Iglesias

When the news hit that Ricky Martin and Enrique Iglesias were uniting for a tour, squeals of glee and shrieks of delight were heard the world over, and those were just the ones coming out of my mouth. In truth, I probably won’t get around to seeing this double-billing (much to my disappointment), but it does sound absolutely scintillating. Mr. Martin has a long list of links in which he’s appeared previously, starting out with his very first Hunk of the Day nod, a brush with his naked tush, this scorching Speedo glimpse, and this pairing with Maluma

Mr. Iglesias has been here as well, in his Hunk of the Day post. Tag-teaming the stage will no doubt be an event to remember, so here’s to wishing them well as they embark on thrilling the world with their voices and their moves. (And their bodies.)

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A Gratuitous Daniel Craig Post

Daniel Craig at 52 puts my body to shame when it was 42. 

Come to think of it, Daniel Craig at any age puts my body to shame at any age so it doesn’t much matter.

Seeing his physique at 52, however, does inspire me, and forces the realization that getting older isn’t a bad thing, it just means we have the opportunity to work harder at things like staying in shape. Mr. Craig has been working at that for years, ever since he first rose out of the ocean like Venus on the Half-shell, in that powder blue square-cut that achieved instantly iconic status. See that glorious sight in his original Hunk of the Day feature here. And a shirtless guest appearance in Andy Cohen’s HOD. Then enjoy the rest of these photos for GQ Magazine. 

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Love in Three Acts: Music for The Plaza

Marc Shaiman is the genius composer behind the music for the current revival of ‘Plaza Suite’ – set to begin previews this week. The social media masterminds behind the ‘Plaza Suite’ Instagram account posted a list of music to get us in the mood, and it included some of Mr. Shaiman’s work from ‘Down With Love’ – this particular piece seemed to best personify the upcoming play, as it is a three-act treatise on love and relationships set against the backdrop of the fabulous Plaza Hotel.

Bubbly and sparkling and effervescent, this is sort of upbeat 60’s inspired music that harkens to a simpler time, when escape could be found in a weekend at the Plaza, or a classic stinger cocktail, or the racing strings of a song. When such strings could be tied up and resolved in the third act, no matter what went down in the first and second. There’s hope in that – giddy, refreshing, lilting hope. 

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A Coat Reborn in Sparkling Fashion

Have you ever had a project you were working on that you didn’t want to end? It may have started off as a chore, but along the way you grew to love it, and by its completion you realized part of you didn’t want it to end? Maybe it was a really good book that you enjoyed so much you rushed through it, rapidly turning the pages until the last chapter, or a television series that you paused binge-watching midway through because you wanted to make it last. Such was the happy conundrum I found myself in when I was nearing the end of finishing a coat for our upcoming trip to New York.

Doing my best to curb some shopping and trying a new turn at sustainability (yawn), I’ve been recycling outfits and wardrobe instead of buying new things, and part of that involved updating a floral embroidered coat that I’ve worn for special times like anniversaries in Boston. With the bright lights of Broadway beckoning with ‘Plaza Suite’, a celebration of Skip’s birthday, an intimate performance by Betty Buckley at the Cafe Carlysle, and a weekend at the Plaza, I wanted something that would sparkle. While this coat had more than enough pizzazz to make a statement, updating it for a new decade meant pushing it completely over the top, with a few pounds of crystal beads employed for the revamping. With its floral pattern already outlined, it was just a matter of matching the beads to their background. It would be a heavy undertaking, and I understood the cost and labor and time involved in a single item of clothing that is so embellished. There was a valuable lesson in that.

In a dire winter, sewing each crystal bead onto the coat became an act of sanity, a thread connecting the otherwise-wayward days and nights into a singular purpose, taking my eyes off other troubling concerns and giving me a pretty focus with a goal that suddenly felt secondary to the act itself. It felt good crawling into bed at the end of a long sewing session, my fingers aching in the best possible way, reminding me of work done well, of a sense of accomplishment. Slowly but consistently, I worked diligently at my task, beneath the bright task lighting in the basement, beside the fire, returning to a few seasons of ‘Schitt’s Creek’, the iconic ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ with Marilyn Monroe, and a double-viewing of Tom Ford’s ‘A Single Man’ playing in the background. The coat grew in fabulousness, as well as tangible weight. After every session, I would slip it on, turning in the mirror to see what was left to do, witnessing and thrilling at how the beads were catching and throwing off the light. As the floral design was encrusted with crystals, I realized I was nearing the end.

The last part involved replacing the buttons. Strangely, when the coat came into my possession, it had these old, worn, brown wooden buttons completely at odds with the style and color of the coat itself, and probably thrown on when one of the original buttons went missing. Instead of buttons, as I didn’t intend to button this coat, I used large faceted crystals in shades of amethyst and emerald. As the final beads went on, and I neared the last part of the embellishment process, I found myself slowing and stalling. I understood I didn’t want it to end.

I also understood that I would need a new project soon. A night in New York is over far too quickly, no matter how brightly one may sparkle.

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A Lost Hour & A Pretty Little Recap

Losing that hour for Daylight Saving Time is always a bummer, but I’ll gladly give it away for the arrival of spring. This is the last full week of winter, and it begins with a full super moon and Mercury still in retrograde. Though the world seems to be falling apart around us, let us find shelter and beauty amid this recap.

Whimsy collected and recollected in a childhood home. 

Madonna’s greatest album to date celebrated another anniversary. 

Not-so-mad Max in motion. 

The colorful and dynamic world of Bright Bazaar. #MakeYouSmileStyle

Enjoy the silence

The M-Empowerment Mix

A gratuitous Daniel Newman moment

Join me on this journey

Betty Buckley returns to the Cafe Carlysle this week.

These #TinyThreads wove their way back to the blog. 

The Swans of Fifth Avenue were ravishing

Preparing for a weekend at The Plaza.

‘Plaza Suite’ begins previews this week.

Hunks of the Day included Greyson Chance, Logan Lerman, Justin Michael Williams, Deon Hinton, Andy Baraghani

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