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The Night Rihanna Stole Madonna’s Thunder

Up until now, every year Madonna has appeared at the Met Gala she has been an absolute arresting vision. From her kick-ass punk spin to her demure ‘I’m a director’ mode, she’s always managed to rise above the already-upper-echelon of the highest night of fashion. This year, though, she wasn’t as spectacular as she usually is. An admission upfront: I absolutely loathe writing on dresses. It looks cheap and haphazard and has no place at the Met Gala. I don’t care if you’re SJP and Oscar de la Renta. I HATE IT. So I can’t get behind Madonna’s Rebel Heart get-up. The hair and make-up are flawless, and the woman looks like a miracle at 56 years of age, but the dress is just a downer for me.

Step aside – everyone, because it’s not gonna fit otherwise – for Rihanna. Now THIS is how to capture the red carpet. Spinning in that thing would prove impossible (if highly entertaining to watch) but that’s totally beside the gorgeous point. This stunner is a showpiece designed to be seen and admired and worn for a dramatic entrance and staircase. Rihanna took the moment and ran (slowly and carefully) with it.

Don’t count Madonna out just yet though. Her group photo with Katy Perry and, wait for it, Lady Gaga, will put her ahead of all the dresses. That’s just the way it is. Bow down, bow down, bow down.

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A Sultry Spring Recap

As so often happens with the Northeast, we seem to have gone directly from winter into summer. That worked well for us this weekend, as the pool was opened and heated, and the patio suddenly sprung to summer life with container and hanging plants (and a new canopy assembled with life-saving help from my brother and his girlfriend). Given that spring was so late, I have a lot to do and very little time in which to do it, so the beautiful weather allowed me to work my ass off and get the yard in somewhat presentable shape. Not that any of this behind-the-scenes work had an effect here, as he blog rolled on with its usual decadence and depravity.

It began with a male model brought to the forefront of pop culture by an Instagram shout-out from Madonna – and soon enough Andrea Denver was named Hunk of the Day.

The search for a spring scent was on, and it came down to a heavyweight battle between Diana Vreeland and Tom Ford. (It’s also a bit of perfect timing, as our anniversary is this week ~ 5 years of officially-married life!) At the time of this writing, I thought the edge was going to Tom Ford’s ‘Fleur de Portofino’ but Vreeland’s ‘Smashingly Brilliant’ has its merits. I think, however, the dark horse of Hermes, and an old classic, may steal ahead of the whole pack.

Forget the Scottish kilt, Sam Callahan is better off without a stitch of clothing whatsoever.

Zac Efron got almost-nude, which was good enough for most people. And then he did it again.

A little bit of grace.

Stephen ‘Twitch’ Boss proves that twitching trumps twerking any day.

My new favorite song on an old favorite theme.

Far more than a triple threat, Jerry Mitchell is now also a Hunk of the Day.

Having had a sneak sniff of the new Hermes fragrance, courtesy of my brother’s gal, I’m pulling the latest (and last) from Jean Claude Ellena out of anniversary gift running, as it’s a gorgeous scent more suited for the deep of summer.

Flowers in empty rooms.

The first Saturday of May is World Naked Gardening Day, so I did it.

I wonder if the sexiest math teacher in the world teaches math in these briefs.

Next Sunday you can finally get a glimpse of the Super Jocks show if you’re in the Chicago area.

And the man behind those super jocks, Andy Boyer, has also been named a Hunk of the Day.

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Super Jocks in Super Jocks

A lot of people coming to this site enjoy a jockstrap. If you add a few hot male models to that minimal clothing piece, and a worthy cause on top of that, you have the makings of a grand event. In this instance it’s a jockstrap fashion show hosted by none other than Bianca Del Rio and benefiting TPAN and Chicago House. Give me a guy in a jockstrap and I’ll totally get behind that.

Aside from the great cause, this looks to be a stellar show featuring the artistic works of jockstrap art by The Crochet Empire, previously chronicled here. These designs are bound to look incredible in person, and with the entertaining hostessing hijinks of Ms. Del Rio, it looks to be an amazing evening. Those in the Chicago area should check it out on May 10 (I’ll be plotting next year’s visit accordingly).

As for the fashion to be displayed, you can get your very own custom jockstrap from The Crochet Empire here. Painstakingly hand-crafted and designed to your specifications, each is a unique work of art, functional yet fashionable (for those who dare to bare). Where art and fashion meet is where inspiration and excitement intersect – and when it’s between the legs of a hot guy, so much the better.

 

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Sexiest Math Teacher in the World

Pietro Boselli has already been named a Hunk of the Day, but these new photos merit a separate post entirely. I like the glasses and the apple motif, as if we needed reminding of his profession. I also like the white briefs. What’s simple is true. An apple a day

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World Naked Gardening Day

How such a thing as ‘World Naked Gardening Day‘ came into existence is baffling to me (dirt and thorns and ticks don’t seem like a natural match for nakedness) but given what I’ve done thus far on this website, how could I not participate? Before I get nude and start pushing around a wheelbarrow, however, I’d like to point out that gardening is a lifelong passion of mine that I take very seriously.

This week began my spring-time clean-up and garden prep. It’s an arduous process that takes several days, and it takes a lot of physical exertion (as my back will attest) and ruthless mental dedication, as it’s basically just hours of raking up debris and getting it into about 50 large lawn bags then hauling them out to the curb. After that, hundreds of pounds of manure need to be added to the soil around the plants who need a little boost. All of that then must be covered with healthy few inches of mulch. Then there’s the ruthless pruning of trees and shrubs, and the thinning out of overgrown patches of plants, or the replanting of those items that got lost in this wild winter. In other words, gardening is serious work. It’s peaceful work too, and a Zen-like calm settles on me every time I’m in that zone.

The results are more than worth it, and by results I don’t just mean the beauty of the garden, but the peace and contentment the whole process bestows upon those who appreciate it. Such peace may be found in the cultivation of an ostrich fern, or the maintenance of a sweet woodruff patch. Contentment can be culled from the premiere of the peony parade and the delicate shading of the celadon poppy. The subtle shifting hues of a hydrangea and the hot fiery blooms of a prickly pear contrast nicely, while some foliage is just as fine as a fancy butterfly-luring flower. Despite all of that, and my self-taught wealth of gardening knowledge, you probably just came to see some nude gardening, so in the name of World Naked Gardening Day, have at it (you twisted perverted fucks).

PS – How many double-entendres can you dig up in honor of the day? Plow this!

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Flowers in Empty Rooms on Boston Harbor

The room was in a corner of the building, partly overlooking the water of the harbor. Two of its walls were mostly windows, allowing ample natural light to flood the space. It was an empty function room, recently occupied by a wedding reception or other festive occasion, as marked by the multitude of fancy bouquets that dotted each table. These weren’t cheap fillers overrun by Alstroemeria and carnations and mums – these were packed with orchids, gloriosa lilies, anemones and ranunculus.

The space was quiet, and I listened for echoes of parties, the remains of laughter, the spirit of happiness, lilting from the fading flower petals. These bouquets were nearing the end of their table-life, but still had beauty and color, and hadn’t begun to lose their petals just yet. A bit over-ripe perhaps, they tottered and waited just a few moments more, perhaps to pose for these very photos, in an effort to achieve immortality.

Such histrionic anthropomorphism is characteristic for this blog, and I make no apologies for it now. This is the sort of quiet beauty that demands over-the-top appreciation. I will always make a ruckus for unheralded fabulousness.

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Even More Shirtless Zac Efron

There’s less skin on display than in this previous Zac Efron post, but there’s still enough to leave most of us salivating in his wake. For a not-so-lazy Friday, feast your weary eyes upon the buff miracle that is Mr. Zac Efron.

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His Name is Mr. Li

Just when I thought the spring fragrance election was down to two competitors, Hermès and its soon-to-retire fragrance genius Jean-Claude Ellena have thrown a sweetly-scented floral wrench into the plans, with ‘Le Jardin de Monsieur Li.’ The final planting in the Jardin series, this one reportedly opens with a subtle spray of citrus – specifically grapefruit, one of my favorite opening notes. It’s also said to be rife with jasmine, which is not one of my favorite notes, so we have a battle within a battle, and until I get a sample of it I’m not going to make any proclamations.

Of this I am certain: my anniversary wish list just got a bit more muddled, as this third entry makes for an unsteady group, even if a three-legged-stool is the most stable. Tom Ford, Diana Vreeland, or Hermès? Eenie meenie money mo…

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It’s Just A Little Crush

I don’t know much about girls, but I know what it’s like to have a crush, and that’s what’s speaking to me in this song by Little Big Town. ‘Girl Crush’ is really about being envious of the girl who has everything, including the guy. More than that, though, it’s one of those spring songs that cracks through the cruelty of winter and offers a ray of hope to render the heart raw and tender.

Spring has that power, and when aided by an evocative song like this, it turns everything into emotional flotsam and mental debris. Obsession and longing, wanting and desire ~ these are themes that informed my early life, and as I ease into middle-age, I look back and remember how they changed my world, in ways both destructive and delicious.

I was never one to do something in a half-assed way. Even my crushes would be epic. Sometimes all it took was a quick throw-away smile that I caught on the fly, some small insignificant gesture of simple kindness or matter-of-fact decency. I  collected such meaningless trifles, imbuing them with all sorts of nonsensical backstories and symbolic import, erecting the grandest sandcastles from the flimsiest shambles of carelessness.

I fell for boys who glanced over my head, but tripped over my pile of bones. I stepped in their way and refused to be ignored. I wrote them love letters and made them mix tapes and felt so strongly that they were meant to love me back that I was blind to how little I mattered. How could all that I felt for them mean so little? How could they not feel anything?

They were mad crushes. Mad in every sense of the word. Crazy, some would say. They made no sense, and for someone whose every move was intricately planned-out and deliberately choreographed, the wilderness into which my heart wandered was foreign and thrilling, and it scared the shit out of me. It made me sad too. I cried a lot, over a lot of people who never even noticed. That sort of lonely terror is something you never forget. Yet it gave me a sliver of strength, some inner-structure like the steel ribs of a corset that pained and protected. Those crushes destroyed me, but I rebuilt myself, again and again, until, phoenix-like, the burning no longer stung and the ashes were no longer bitter.

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All I Have to Give

In the midst of a wild week, I received a very touching message from a FaceBook friend in Baltimore yesterday afternoon:

“Thanks for your blog and facebook page last night. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t been keeping up with you (sorry to admit). After 3 hours of watching unbelievable riots, fire, and human injury just outside my door on TV, I turned to you for some lusty pictures, some laughs, and even a little drama. It was a rough night here in Baltimore (and I fear it’s far from over), but thanks for lightening things up for a while. You are appreciated.”

There, suddenly and unexpectedly, was a little bit of grace, from the silly and sometimes-sordid entries conjured on this blog. It moved me in a way that people who have known me for ten years don’t always manage to do. Maybe it was more touching coming from a stranger. Maybe it was the surprise of it. Maybe it was just a human being reaching out to another human while feeling trapped in the middle of an upsetting moment.

Whatever the case, I am grateful. It reminded me to be a little kinder in my everyday life. I need those reminders from time to time, and I will do my best. This blog isn’t going to change anyone’s life, much less the world, but in its own way may it provide amusement, escape, and enjoyment in a world that’s crumbling around us.

Thank you, David, for reminding me that everyone has a voice, and a story, and a way to touch the world.

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Zac Efron, Practically Nude

A man needs to know his best assets, and here’s a man who clearly does. Zac Efron has been naked here before, so while it shouldn’t be a big deal, these photos, from a movie in which he’s supposed to be naked, by rights should not be anything special. Yet somehow they are, so feast your eyes one more time upon the almost-naked form of Mr. Efron. No stranger to nudity, and certainly not to shirtlessness, Efron gives a bit of both, in nude-hued briefs and a strategically-placed stuffed animal. He’s still hiding the good bits, but I can respect that. A girl has to leave something to the imagination.

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Tom Ford vs. Diana Vreeland

The battle for spring fragrance dominance is about to be waged, as Tom Ford’s latest Private Blend, Fleur de Portofino, goes head-to-fragrant-head with Diana Vreeland’s Smashingly Brilliant.

Ford’s latest Portofino addition (a line already established with Neroli Portofino, Mandarino di Amalfi and Costa Azzurra) reportedly includes notes of bergamot, citrus, osmanthus, acacia blossom and acacia honey. The latter two ingredients seem to provide the difference from the other Portofino flavors. According to the literature ‘Fleur’ is “inspired by the cascades of white flowers that spill off the branches of the White Acacia— a beloved shade tree that dots the Mediterranean’s gardens and lines its tranquil avenues. Fleur de Portofino creates a crisp and bright floral accord from this bloom, then surrounds it with effervescent citrus and acacia honey. The fragrance creates an effect of sheer floral possession that is incomparably hypnotic and extremely bold.”

Early reviews have indicated this is a very floral frag, and floral scents are not my favorite, so I’m not placing all my eggs in this Tom Ford basket just yet. Rather, I’m giving another Diana Vreeland offering, ‘Smashingly Brilliant’ a look-see, or smell-see as the case may be.

The House of Vreeland’s new summer  scent is said to contain bergamot, geranium, lemon, and suede accord. I tend to favor bergamot for this time of the year, and citrus is usually an integral part of any spring/summer fragrance. It’s not always lasting, but neither is spring. ‘Brilliant’ sound quite promising: “Smashingly Brilliant, created by Clement Gavarry, was inspired by Mrs. Vreeland’s love for the island of Capri. A play on contrasts, the fragrance combines the zesty freshness of citrus notes with a deep textured background. The burst of Lemon Oil and Calabrian Bergamot Oil is enhanced with aromatic notes of verbena, basil, and juniper berries. A luxurious heart of Geranium Lemon Living creates a bridge to the sensual dry down of suede accord and enveloping woods, offering a trail of mysterious depth and raw elegance.”

Capri or Portofino… it’s a beautiful dilemma. The battle for summer has begun.

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The Flourish Dramatic: A Recap

Before dimming the lights, I light a tobacco-scented candle. The pleasant notes are almost enough to make me reconsider investing in the Tobacco Vanille Private Blend by Tom Ford. Almost. I slide a wordless mix of unobtrusive ambient music into the CD player. The water of the shower beats down, and steam rises on this unseasonably cold evening. It’s Sunday night, and after a week filled with job changes, Cape Cod birthday shenanigans, and my Dad breaking his arm (with a “terrible triad” fracture), I am looking for peace. I suppose in that respect this week is just like any other. Let’s dive back into the Floating World of this website and escape for one more moment before Monday begins again.

A fit and toned Andy Cohen found freedom from his shirt on a recent trip to Miami.

Dit-dit-dit-dit-a-lini.

If things seem to be on auto-pilot here of late, hang on just a little bit longer. There are good things to come.

Male models dominated the Hunk of the Day posts, including Erasmo Viana (pictured), Lucas Bernardini, Chris Arno Williams and Jakub Stefano,

What’s your T?

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall…

A very hunky Sunday, and a glimpse of a nude Ryan Guzman.

It’s that time of the year again: prom season!

Once upon a time, I lived and loved in the Floating World.

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April Showers, Boston Flowers

For a while it felt like spring might never arrive, but it always does, and it always will. Here is the proof for this year. It’s still taking its time, but spring is one thing I’d rather not rush.

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Returning to the Floating World

I must say I find it hard to understand how any man who values his self-respect would wish for long to avoid responsibility for his past deeds; it may not always be an easy thing, but there is certainly a satisfaction and dignity to be gained in coming to term with the mistakes one has made in the course of one’s life. In any case, there is surely no great shame in mistakes made in the best of faith. It is surely a thing far more shameful to be unable or unwilling to acknowledge them.” ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

For indeed, a man who aspires to rise above the mediocre, to be something more than ordinary, surely deserves admiration, even if in the end he fails and loses a fortune on account of his ambitions… if one has failed only where others have not had the courage or will to try, there is a consolation – indeed, a deep satisfaction – to be gained from this observation when looking back over one’s life. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

I suspect the reason I couldn’t celebrate the floating world was that I couldn’t bring myself to believe in its worth. Young men are often guilt-ridden about pleasure, and I suppose I was no different. I suppose I thought that to pass away one’s time in such places, to spend one’s skills celebrating things so intangible and transient, I suppose I thought it was all rather wasteful, all rather decadent. It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of a world when one doubts its very validity

But I’ve long since lost all such doubts… When I am an old man, when I look back over my life and see I have devoted it to the task of capturing the unique beauty of that world, I believe I will be well satisfied. And no man will make me believe I’ve wasted my time. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

I have learnt many things over these past years. I have learnt much in contemplating the world of pleasure, and recognizing its fragile beauty. But I now feel it is time for me to progress to other things… it is my belief that in such troubled times as these, artists must learn to value something more tangible than those pleasurable things that disappear with the morning light. It is not necessary that artists always occupy a decadent and enclosed world. My conscience tells me that I cannot remain forever an artist of the floating world. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

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