Yearly Archives:

2015

Sniff My Rosebud

Even at this late stage of my cologne obsession, there are still surprises to be had, and I’m constantly amused by how little I know my own likes and preferences. If you’d told me I’d choose a floral over a woody scent, I’d have laughed richly. If you said I’d select something fruity over something spicy, I’d have called you nuts. Yet the nose knows what it wants, and will choose accords accordingly, despite what the mind and the educated guesswork might surmise. A case in point was my recent run-in with the Bond No. 9 line.

I’d just visited one of their stores in New York, and left impressed but not enraptured, and definitely not in love enough to justify the exorbitant price tags. Yet while waiting for Kira to deal with her shoe complex at the Harvard Square Tannery, I perused the small selection of Bond fragrances and fell in absolute love with the New York Oud.

It opened with a fruity blast of plum (two of my favorite frags – Plum Japonais and Pomegranate Noir – employ a fruity sweetness) and then something I never thought I’d like: rose. The classic floral note, so rich and redolent of history and grandmotherly overuse, was never on my radar, but that changed with Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Fleur’ – and the revolutionary turn-around is complete with ‘New York Oud.’ I find the namesake – the actual oud itself – is downplayed, but an integral component for keeping the floral aspect from blooming uncontrollably. It’s a delightful combination that on paper reads like a copy of the ‘Oud Fleur’ but in reality emanates an entirely different story – a story that needs to be part of my life. After spraying some on in the store, it haunted me for the rest of the day. I think I may have annoyed Kira with all my exclamations of adoration, but that’s what a good cologne does to me. Obsession and passion – two sides of the same sweetly-scented coin.

Of course, this puts a wrench in my holiday wish list, which has already been posted here. The good thing is, there’s always Valentine’s Day, and a rose fragrance may be more apt for that anyway.

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Cropping Head

Testing out winter garb for upcoming condo stays, I had to crop my bed-head out of these shots because it was simply unacceptable. The outfit, admittedly, isn’t much better, but for winter nights in Boston it’s perfect. Fuzzy long underwear and a soft (and Delusionally-Grand and bunny-like) t-shirt are all I need to bundle up and hunker down in one of the few spaces on this earth where I’ve always felt completely safe.

There are a number of situations where fashion takes a backseat to function and circumstance, and winter nights constitute just such a condition. I’ll pardon all sorts of otherwise-criminal fashion choices when it gets frigid. I usually don’t share such moments, but since turning 40 I’m a little more open to revealing the ugly (and silly) truth about things, including what I wear to bed. And it doesn’t get much uglier than this.

Hey, when you know the rules you can break them.

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Behold, the 1st of December!

How did we make it to December already? November went by in a blink, and now we are really in the holiday groove, and you’ve got to prove your love to me. Before we march toward the end of the month, and the end of the calendar year, however, I offer this quick look back at the Decembers that came before. Though it is our darkest month, there are glimmers of light, and glimmers of hope, to be found in family and friends.

Evidence in support of hope: this holiday card from 2011, wherein I share billing for only the second time ever.

The little drummer boy.

Red suspenders.

Babes & sundaes.

Brothers & Christmas trees.

Holiday portals.

Snow rose.

Snow kale.

This holiday tradition began in 2011…

And we’ve managed to do it every year since then.

Like a Victorian virgin.

Naked Christmas caroling.

A simple holiday votive.

Porny gay Santas.

Oh Christmas tree.

The madness of men at this time of the year.

The real reason for the season.

Pom explosion.

Once upon a time, I was this wee little thing.

Family fun on Christmas Eve.

Walking in a winter… you know the rest.

And if this still isn’t enough to put you in the Christmas spirit, here’s a naked Ryan Reynolds pic for you. There. Scrooge be gone!

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Lucy or Charlie?

What do you do when the world thinks you’re a Lucy, but in your heart you know you’re really Charlie Brown? That’s the existential question that goes through my head every time ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ airs. Don’t get me wrong, I can well understand why some may think I’m a Lucy. The way she continually, and mercilessly, teases Chuck is a thing of inspiration. Not only the way she does it, but the way she takes such joy and glee in it. Giving a kid the hope that she’s not going to move that football again – sigh – my heart flutters at the unrelenting cruelty of it all.

But beneath that Lucy veneer, my heart secretly empathizes with Mr. Brown, with the under-dogs who fervently and earnestly believe in the good of the world, the hope that people will, eventually, do the right and just thing. The way he believed in the Great Pumpkin. The way he put his heart into his little Christmas tree. The way the world crushes him time and again. There’s something noble in that. Noble and heartbreaking.

Truth is, I’m not Lucy or Charlie. I’m not even that talented genius Schroeder.

I’m Snoopy.

Completely unconcerned, unmoved, and unimpressed by the world. Living a charmed, well-cared-for and carefree existence. (And often in the dog-house.) That’s closer to my lucky life than some mean girl or downtrodden boy.

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A Recap to Kick off the Holiday Season

Here we go! Let the holiday hijinks begin! Tis the season to be jolly! It’s also the season to be busy, so to that end, let’s get going with the traditional Monday morning recap. I’ve just returned from a weekend in Boston, so I need a day or two to regroup. On with the look-back…

It began with this miraculous Monday moon shot of Simon Dunn naked.

Even Justin Clynes had a tough time topping that, though he did his very best.

My Holiday Wish List 2015 was finally published, and all two people who will even remotely entertain buying anything off of it have been notified.

A new parade of Holiday memories has begun, with more on the way.

The old parade of Hunks of the Day continued with Aaron Diaz, Gregg Sulkin, Andrew Morrill, Dennis Nathanael van den Eijk, Aaron Lazar, and Sean Yeary.

Happy Thanksgiving!

One of my very favorite parts of the season.

The most important outfit of the season, in RED.

Sit on this!

You’re gonna hear me roar.

Do it until your hand hurts. (And then be prepared to do it some more.)

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A Virgin Risotto Voyage

I’ve watched the preparation of risotto a couple of times, most recently by Lidia Bastianich, and everyone has always made it look very easy, provided you follow a few simple rules. I’m proud to say that for my virgin attempt at this Italian classic, I did pretty well. The constant stirring is a necessity, and yes, your arm will get tired. (Mine certainly did.) And when you get toward the end, it’s less about following the exact recipe and more about how much liquid you need to add to get it to the right consistency, which you can only gauge by repeated tastings.

For this initial try, I kept things relatively simple, utilizing an onion and a couple of fennel bulbs as the base. The best thing about risotto is its ability to take on any and all flavors and accents, but I wanted to taste the Arborio rice and see how things worked before getting all shellfish fancy and rainbow bright.

The slow and laborious ladle-by-ladle process of cooking to keep the rice intact works wonders, but it is a task. Repetitive and demanding, and without any corners to cut, it eventually becomes a peaceful endeavor once you give in to the rhythm, listen for the slight crackling, and keep things in motion. It’s also best done on a cold fall or winter’s night – you’re going to sweat.

Slowly but surely, the rice gains its classic soft-focus consistency – and I do mean slowly. This is one thing that cannot be rushed.

It’s a good lesson during these soon-to-be-hectic holiday times. We should all slow down a bit, savor the minutes, and pause for reflection. Making risotto is an opportunity for that, and like many instances of cooking, I find it peace-inducing and cathartic.

The end result was heavenly – rich and creamy and full-bodied, aided by the last-step addition of freshly-grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese and a few more dollops of butter. As you approach the last minutes of cooking, be sure to taste for consistency and flavor, and hold off on the addition of salt until after you’ve added the cheese. (Mine was a tad too salty by the end of the ordeal.) All in all, however, I was pleased with the final product. I’ll try it again as soon as my arm recovers from all the stirring.

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Poof! I’m a Bear!

In my heart of hearts, I’ve always felt a strong affinity to bears. Maybe it was Winnie-the-Pooh who started it all when I was a child, or the comfort of a few stuffed bears that remain with me to this day, but whatever the cause I love a cuddly bear. When I saw this fun onesie at Primark in Boston, I scooped it up for a fall day like the one captured here.

Originally, this was a photo shoot for a possible Holiday Card, but I opted for something even more spare and simple. (A guy needs a year to recover from all that blood and powder.) These shots, while fun, didn’t quite capture the simplicity of the season that I wanted for this go-round, so here they are for your browsing enjoyment and laughter. I mean, I look absolutely ridiculous, and I absolutely love it.

It was also immensely fun to prance around the backyard in this furry one-piece, which reminds me of those sleepers I used to wear as a kid, the kind that came with slightly-rubberized feet for a grip on ungainly slippery floors.

They embodied coziness during the holidays – and all winter for that matter. When zipped up to the top, they trapped and kept body heat, providing a portable little source of warmth for young boys who needed to be mobile while racing around the cool rooms of a drafty house.

For someone whom most assume to be fashionably against such items of clothing, I happened to love those sleepers as a kid. My brother and I wore them for some of my happiest holiday memories: watching Christmas cartoons, racing downstairs to a pile of gifts on Christmas morning, staring up at the twinkling Christmas tree before going to bed, or waiting around in the kitchen for Christmas cookies to come out of the oven.

No matter what kind of show I put on here and in the rest of my life, happiness will always trump fashion for me. Let that be our little secret.

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A Stool on Which To Sit

When we first moved into the Boston condo exactly 20 years ago, there was no furniture whatsoever. As a full-time college student and almost-full-time retail worker (35 hours per work, thank you) I didn’t have much time to worry about interior designer, or even the simple stocking of a few main pieces of furniture, so for the first few weeks I lived sparsely with a cot (well, the mattress portion of a cot, anyway), a single lamp, and, eventually, a pair of stools near the kitchen area. The kind on which I am precariously perched in these photos.

This was a quiet time in the condo, and in my life. Despite the business of my schedule, and the expanding social scene of a gay guy just entering his 20’s, my moments alone were still and silent. Part of this was a practical matter of not having a stereo system, or a clock radio that got any sort of decent reception in the bedroom, and part of it was an unconscious yet somehow deliberate act of seeking out quiet when the rest of my life was getting louder.

At the time, I don’t think I fully realized the gift that such quiet solitude would prove to be. In fact, I don’t think I understood that for many years thereafter. Only recently have I come to realize the great power and healing that comes from being alone in the quiet of that condo. I’ve always felt a pull there when I’ve felt troubled or unsure, and I think it’s because there is this sense of peace and calm that originated there all those years ago.

Today, there is a decidedly-full collection of furniture and accessories in the space, but the quiet remains, if you let it. As the day dims and the street lamps flicker on, that quiet is there. As night falls and the other brownstone windows wink awake, the quiet pervades. As another morning arrives, whether gray or sunny or stormy, the quiet remains.

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Wings for a Festival, in RED

Sometimes an outfit just needs a pair of red wings to make it pop, as was the case with this year’s Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Festival ensemble. I knew I wanted something red, but also something simple. After last year’s extravagant, but difficult-to-walk-in, geisha ensemble, I decided to pare things down a bit. A pair of plaid pants, a red jacket, and some scarlet wings gave me all the lift I needed. 

In the days when this event was held in the Franklin Plaza, this outfit never would have taken flight, but now that there’s the open space of the Convention Center, it got its chance to soar.

I gave it fifteen minutes before someone inadvertently ripped it off, but somehow these wings were touched and protected by a higher power: they stayed on for the duration of the entire evening.

Now, they can be retired, having been captured on camera and displayed at the festival, joining the ranks of this cape, these green balls, and this kimono.

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A Favorite Thing

This weekend marks the Holiday Stroll 2015, whereby my friend Kira and I make the Boston shopping rounds in celebration of the season. I’ve plotted out an itinerary and map of the route we’ll be taking, and I’ve selected a couple of movies we may watch at the end of our journey. (Hey, I’m a Virgo. I enjoy a carefully-thought-out plan. And there’s tons of wiggle room for last-minute changes.) We’ve made this trek for a few years now, and it’s a tradition that has quickly become my favorite.

We’ll do some shopping for our friends and family, but mostly the weekend is about spending holiday time with a good friend. It begins in the South End, traverses Copley, meanders through Beacon Hill, stops in Chinatown for lunch, crawls through the crowds of Downtown Crossing and Quincy Market, then heads into the seaport area for the first time. It’s a good spell of walking, but it’s a labor of love.

I’m also planning on making the condo a bit of a holiday haven. To that end, and for an upcoming holiday hour with some children, I’ll be decorating the space for the first time since 1999. Back then I was living there full-time, and we had a holiday party for which I decked those tiny halls. This year, I’m hoping to add some coziness and charm to the atmosphere of our stroll, to make it a little more special in honor of a belated birthday celebration for Kira, and our little tradition.

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Turkey Lurkey Time

It’s almost time… and even though this may be more apropos for Christmas, you’re getting it today. Cause, you know, Turkey.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s not something I put up here often, but in my daily life I give thanks quite a bit, and I am very much aware of how lucky I am. Gratitude has been ever-present in my life, and when you live as charmed a life as I do, that’s how it should be. This particular post is my small way of showing how grateful I am for my online family (I’ll be with my real family all day).

Thanks to everyone who visits this site, even if it’s just to see the Hunk of the Day or what silliness I may have slapped on my back this week. Whatever your reason for taking a moment to stop by, thank you. Now go and give thanks to someone else who needs to hear it. We’ll rendezvous later with tales of holiday fun…

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Hush-A-Bye Wink-A-Bye Doo: Holiday Memories

 Red is the color of Santa’s sleigh,

Green are the pine trees along the way,

Gold is the sunshine on Christmas Day…

Hush-a-bye, wink-a-bye, doo…

Thus began a Christmas song at what was my first or second grade concert at McNulty School. I had been nabbed to sing the opening solo line due to my stellar coloratura (to be fair, I think it was my shiny bangs that won me the hardly-coveted role, but whatever). At that moment in time, I wasn’t afraid of audiences or watchful eyes, so when we performed it to a gymnasium filled with grades 1-6, I sang my little heart out. There was no shame in my game yet, and the world had not yet enforced any on me. It was probably the last time I’d feel such wonderful freedom.

I forget who was tapped to sing the second pine trees verse (I’m pretty sure it was Lynn or Laura) but I distinctly remember that the sunshine line went rather ill-fittingly to a girl named Crystal, who had a perpetual snarl on her scowling face, and who was never very nice to me. Sunshine my ass. For Christmas, however, I did my best to suspend such evil thoughts, trying hard to put myself in Crystal’s shoes and seeking out some silver lining in her otherwise-awful countenance. Whenever I think ill of someone, I try to picture them at their happiest, with a grand smile betraying some hidden joy they find in the world, and it’s a little more difficult to think badly of them. A little. When she sang her sunshine line, wearing a skirt that was two sizes too big for her, I realized that she probably didn’t have as lucky a life as I did, and I started taking her snarl and her coldness not as a personal affront, but as the way she had to deal with an unfair world. It was the closest I could get to humane holiday behavior, and as we stood up before the entire school, I wanted to protect her – and to protect us – as a united front.

Those holiday concerts were the last time I felt comfortable in front of an audience. I had already started to “act” stereotypically gay (a lisp – cured by the application of peanut butter to the roof of my mouth by the linguistic teacher – didn’t help) and my over-the-top theatrics during these holiday shows must have been met with cringes by more than a few parents. I didn’t notice then, but I would see it soon enough.

On that day, I was just singing, ‘Red is the color of Santa’s sleigh’ and holding up a little wooden sled painted in red. I was trying to make my peace with a crabby girl named Crystal. Most of all, I was looking forward to the coziness and warmth that Christmas always brought.

This year’s holiday season is just getting underway, and I’m already feeling the excitement. No more Scrooge theatrics – I’m going to enjoy it from start to finish.

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Holiday Wish List 2015

In this period of relative ennui with worldly possessions, there’s not much that I’ve been hankering for of late, which makes a Christmas wish list, as requested by family, a bit of a dilemma. Not that I’ve ever been that hard-pressed to come up with things that I want. With that in mind, and for the ease of those wonderful people who are good enough to grant me gifts, here are a few items I wouldn’t kick out of bed.

I remain enraptured by the elusive  Jeremy Scott Adidas Wings 3.0 “Gold”, Size 10. This is one that would require an extensive eBay search, and since I’ve been asking for it for over a year it looks unlikely to happen now, but it will remain on the top of my list until it becomes available. (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.)

Fragrance is always a welcome addition to my accessory roster, and while there is no new Tom Ford Private Blend available right now, there are several by Byredo Parfums that are worth a spritz. First up is the spicy Bal D’Afrique, which carries an incense-like accent that would keep things smoky and warm through the winter.

I also fell in love with Perfume 11 by BLK DNM the last time I was in New York. It’s a lighter, fresher scent than those I usually favor at this time of the year, but come January it will be a welcome change. It’s also proving difficult to find online, and may only be available in some New York City stores. (I found it in the gift shop at the Standard High Line.)

{Gift certificates to Barneys or Neiman Marcus would cover additional cologne desires.}

These Alexander McQueen floral loafers  – in Size 43 (US 10) – are dream-shoes that would take me to Oz and back.

Florals are big in my life right now, as evidenced by my infatuation with these floral sweatpants for lounging (and more) by Bonobos. Officially christened ‘Nomad French Terry Sweatpants’, their rose motif is a gorgeous twist for a pair of sweatpants. Size Medium, please.

When the rains come back in the spring, this beautiful blue Brooks Brothers Black Fleece raincoat would be ideal, in size BB1. (It’s on a big sale right now to boot.)

As for more practical concerns, the condo needs a new air conditioner,  a new set of bedding (Queen), and a new pillow or two (20 x 20 or 26 x 26).

{And if all else fails, there’s always Amazon.}

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A Recap on the Verge of Everything

A jam-packed weekend that included the Beaujolais Wine Celebration and an evening of ‘Queen of the Night’ in NYC will, if all goes according to schedule, have come to a close last night, and this post is being programmed while I’m in the midst of a killer cold that knocked me way behind in everything that was going so smoothly. This is how life checks you when you’re doing a little too much. On with the recap of the previous week…

It began, as it usually does, with a Hunk of the Day: Brent Van Sant.

My week-long bout with sickness left a number of silly posts, such as this purely GIF-fueled one and this no-brainer that consisted solely of a new Adele song, When We Were Young. Not to mention this brief snippet of holiday times to come.

Luckily, I often write in advance of posting times, so I got to enjoy the fruits of this labor-of-love post on poet (and future Hunk of the Day) Ben Kline.

David Beckham was named the Sexiest Man Alive for 2015, probably ten years after the fact, but better late than never.

One of the most special Hunks of the Day was re-crowned, and teased with this look at other important HODs.

Zakh Michael was the first Hunk of the Day whose story was big enough to merit two parts.

NYC – what is is about you?

Getting nude in a hotel room.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star concludes its incendiary ‘Rock Star Addict’ section, right before they cart me off to rehab.

More Hunks rounded out the week, including Charles Melton, Canelo Alvarez and Austin Victoria.

And capping off Sunday with a bulge-tastic flourish was this Speedo post.

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