November
2012
November
2012
November
2012
November
2012
Now Voyeur
Only the trained eye of the Voyeur could imagine the power the watched wield.
The focus fades. The light grows dim. The afternoon asks for more.
A gaze, off in the distance, indirect and uninviting. The bleak brittleness of solitude.
November
2012
Out at The Out
One might mistakenly assume that I would love a gay hotel, and in part that’s correct. There’s certainly a different comfort level staying at a predominantly gay establishment than some place that bans gay weddings and flies the Confederate flag. For me, though, it’s never been a priority. When The Out first opened, billing itself as the first gay, but straight-friendly hotel, I was intrigued, but also worried that it might be some over-the-top gay Disneyworld. It’s so easy to go overboard when one of our symbols is the rainbow (a definite design no-no). Happily, The Out manages to be both overtly gay, and understated and elegant at the same time.
I walked into the lobby and heard the distinctive voices of two drag queens doing a Madonna/Lady Gaga mash-up. Suddenly, I knew I was where I belonged. They waved and said hello as they passed by on their break. It was probably the best greeting to a hotel that I’ve ever received. Waiting to check in, I noticed that this was probably the most diverse collection of clientele that I’ve seen in a while: gay, straight, frumpy, refined, couples, friends, singles, young, old – and from every walk of life, speaking Spanish and French and English in a zillion assorted accents.
The hotel itself is a veritable oasis in the midst of the grubby insanity of Times Square – with several outdoor areas lending a lush tropical Miami-feel, combined with a modern and stylish sensibility. On the days I was there, it was nice enough to sit outside and make use of these spaces. When the weather does finally turn, however, there is an enclosed atrium with two jacuzzis, right next to the spa, which offers a steam room and sauna. While all these amenities are nice, they would mean nothing if the service didn’t rise to the occasion, and I’m happy to say that the staff may be the best part of The Out experience. Knowing how to make each guest feel as if they are the hotel’s number one priority is the trade trick of hospitality. That makes all the difference. When I visit New York, I usually don’t stay at the same hotel twice, but The Out may change that.
PS – Stick around for the shower shots… And the naked lounging shots.
November
2012
Garbanzo Lover
I’d only ever had them cold and in a salad, but it turns out they are just as good, if not better, warmed up. I’m told this is an old-fashioned Italian dish, which makes sense. My love affair with the beans originated at Pepe’s Italian Restaurant in Amsterdam. I’ve modified the recipe slightly, due to personal preference, and, more importantly, forgetfulness.
3 cans garbanzo beans (chick peas) – with liquid reserved from one
1 medium onion (diced)
2 cloves garlic (minced)
Dash of olive oil
Salt and pepper
2 Tbsp. fennel seed
Heat oil on medium and saute onion and garlic until soft. Add fennel seed and salt and pepper and cook for a few more minutes. Drain all but one of the cans of beans and add to pot. Stir and cook for another 20 minutes or so.
That’s it! Super easy, and super adjustable, so if you don’t want to cook for that long, or if you’d prefer to amend with extra spices it can’t be injured. It’s the perfect side dish for a Fall meal, and you can make as big or small batch as needed.
November
2012
Holiday Magic
A week from today is Black Friday (the day when everyone in the world except for me goes shopping – or, as I like to think of it, amateur hour). When I was in New York I made the big mistake of going into Macy’s – just to get a feel for the holiday start. Of course I only ended up finding a new coat, new socks, new underwear, and three pairs of pants for myself, but you celebrate your way and I’ll celebrate mine. No matter how Scrooge-like I may seem, I still get a child-like thrill when the holidays get underway. It was no different this year.
Despite my embracing of the holiday season, there are limits. Like this Cutest Dog in the World display of a pooch named ‘Boo’. Gag me. Poo on Boo.
The neatest thing, in my more-dorky-than-you-would-think head, was this life-size rendering of a Christmas Yoda, looking pixelated because it was made entirely out of Legos.
November
2012
Over the River & Through the Woods
Over the river and through the woods
To grandmother’s house we go
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifting snow
Over the river and through the woods
Oh how the wind does blow
It stings the nose and bites the toes
As over the ground we go…
On those lucky days when we picked up my Grandma from Hoosick Falls for Thanksgiving week, this is one of the songs we would sing on the long ride there. Though we were riding in a big-ass station wagon instead of a horse-drawn sleigh, the sentiment and the goal were the same. Most times, though, we were in school when Mom made the trip to Hoosick Falls, so on the last day before Thanksgiving vacation, we’d get home and run into the kitchen to find Gram, where she was usually at work cleaning or cooking. We’d rush into her arms, give her a big hug, and suddenly everything was right with the world. As much as I cherished my solitude, it was always a thrill to have a larger family in the house over the holidays, and Gram occupied a special place in my heart.
Sometimes she was the only one who seemed to understand me – who “got” me more than my parents or brother ever could. It was a lifeline for a child who never quite fit in. My brother and I would listen to her stories before we had to go bed, hoping our parents would give us just a few extra minutes with the stories she told us – from the tales of Peter Rabbit to the glory days of Greta Garbo. In a lot of ways, and this is something I’ve only recently realized, Gram was my first connection to the gay world – to the touchstone cultural points of Hollywood glamour or the way she favored the most sparkling jewelry (even her rosary was made of crystals in a delicate shade of Tiffany blue). I felt an early affinity with those things that I didn’t feel with football or cars, but I didn’t know enough to explore them more. My fascination lived only in the few days that Gram was over during a year.
I think she sensed a kindred shyness in me too, one that she never mistook for arrogance or aloofness. When others would call me mean, she would defend me as being different. Through it all, her love for me never waned or wavered. There would come many points in my life when I felt unloved, and at the darkest moments I would always think, “No matter what I’ve done, and no matter what has happened, my grandmother will still love me.” Even the most flawed among us should be so lucky to have such a grandmother. Everyone deserves that. It’s been a few years since she passed away, but every year around this time when the family gathers for Thanksgiving, I walk into my parents’ home, I remember that moment, and I still walk into the kitchen expecting – hoping, wishing – for her to be there.
November
2012
The Beaujolais Outfit 2012
And now, without further ado, I present this year’s outfit for the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Festival, to benefit the AIDS Council of Upstate New York. Believe it or not, and those who know me should believe it, this is actually a rather simple ensemble. I think it’s the bold color combination, and the simple fact of a cape, that garnered such notice. (And according to Andy, there was ample notice.) Personally, I didn’t put much effort into it. In previous years I’d spend weeks working on my outfit for this special evening, sewing tulle into coats, gluing sequins and mirrors onto suits, crafting a thousand chiffon rosettes – but this time around I winged it and put it together at the last moment. A necklace of pearls was a birthday gift from Andy many years ago, the shoes were a nod to Pee Wee Herman, the cape was an homage to Little Red Riding Hood, and the juxtaposition of the fuchsia pants against the red was a Pucci-inspired combination that has always thrilled me.
November
2012
A Few Words on Attending ‘Wicked’
First of all, don’t talk back to the performers just because you’re drunk or high.
Second, don’t get so drunk or high that you have to get up before the third song even begins.
Third, don’t bring a hunter’s knife with you so everyone is afraid to ask you to shut the hell up.
Fourth, don’t sit in the first five rows if you’re allergic to smoke effects. The girl melts. What did you expect?
November
2012
Back in the Pool
Well, a different kind of pool – this one in the cellar. Neither my nephew, nor I, know the specific rules of the game, but we both like the way the balls sound when they’re clicking each other on the pool table. Of course, I prefer that he keep the balls actually on the table, and that he rolls them rather than throwing them, but he got the hang of it soon enough. One day he’ll teach me the real way to play, because right now I can’t be bothered. Besides, his way is far more fun.
November
2012
Wardrobe Advice from My Nephew
This is my nephew Noah helping me decide what to wear for tonight’s gala. Sometimes it’s good to get a child’s perspective on questionable accessories. Just to clarify, I did not instigate this playing-with-pearls moment – they were sitting on the table when he happened to stop by for a visit, and like all things that I forget to put away when the kids come over, he made a beeline for what was not supposed to be touched. I believe he was trying to tell me to tone down the number of pearls I was going to wear.
After giving it some thought, I had to admit the kid was right. From the mouths of babes.
Additional clarification: I did not encourage him to put them on either. You can’t stop a kid from being fabulous if that’s what he wants to do. (Besides, he took them off after a minute, so clearly he didn’t find them as fabulous as I would have. He much preferred rolling (and throwing) the balls violently on (and off) the pool table.)
November
2012
The Revolutionary Costume of the Day
Though the main purpose for the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Festival (taking place tonight) is to raise funds for the AIDS Council, the real reason to go is to hang out with friends, start the holiday season off, and see what everyone is wearing. As such, it’s probably one of the most important outfit nights of the year. In the past I would alternate my attire – one year doing something really spectacular and over the top (thigh-high latex boots with five-inch heels, a Swarovski-studded corset, Indian wedding pajamas, a mirror-covered jacket were but a few of the looks I’ve tried) – then switching it up into something super casual (jeans and a t-shirt) when I needed a break.
This year I’m going with something I would call a cross between Pee Wee Herman and Little Red Riding Hood. That’s all I’m going to say about it, and all that needs to be said. It’s actually rather simple. There was a time when it looked like it might be heading into heavy sequin territory, but I pulled back and reined it in, ultimately excising all sequins. The multiple strings of pearls have been reduced to a single strand, despite what these sneak-peek photos reveal. And the possibility of a head-dress – always a temptation – was put on the shelf for another year. Not to worry – even with all those edits it’s still pretty spectacular.
November
2012
November
2012
Please, It’s All About Popular
If other places can re-print an article on ‘Wicked’ by Gregory Maguire, then surely I can get away with re-posting my review of the show from when it premiered on Broadway almost a decade ago. I’m taking Andy to see it tonight at Proctor’s, so it seems a fitting moment. (Besides, I’m too busy finalizing my outfit for the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Festival to really focus on anything else.) So, without further ado, here it is (and it’s interesting to note how very wrong I was about the show not doing so well once its original cast departed).
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“Popular – it’s all about popular. It’s not about aptitude, it’s the way you’re viewed, so it’s very shrewd to be very, very popular, like me!” So sings Galinda, the ‘good witch’ of’Wicked’, in the new musical that opened this past year. The show too is proving popular, from good word-of-mouth to sold-out audiences. (The past few weeks have found it filled to capacity.) All this despite mixed reviews is further proof that what is popular may be more important than what is actually worthy of artistic merit. In this case, it’s not as bad as mean-spirited critics would have you believe, nor as wonderful as ‘Wicked’ fans would like you to think.
For lovers of the movie and those unfamiliar with Gregory Maguire’s original spellbinding book, the musical is likely to enchant and delight ~ for those who enjoyed the darker edge of the book, it may prove disappointing. The musical’s team ~ mainly Stephen Schwartz, who wrote the music and lyrics, and Winnie Holzman, who wrote the book of the musical ~ turned the dark genius of Maguire’s literary masterpiece into something, well, popular, in the best and worst sense. One gets the feeling that the show is trying to be everything to everyone ~ keeping the movie-lovers happy while placating those captivated by Maguire’s book, and such artistic compromise is exceedingly difficult to pull off successfully. In this instance, the creators only partially succeed.
The main draw of the show is rightfully found in its two leads, Idina Menzel as Elphaba – the green one, and Kristin Chenoweth as Galinda – the ‘good one’. (The first ‘A’ in Galinda becomes silent, as is amusingly explained in the musical.) For her opening entrance, Galinda descends from above, in a mechanical bubble of course, and greets the audience with her now-classic line, “It’s good to see me, isn’t it?” It certainly is, and remains so throughout the evening. Ms. Chenoweth gives the defining performance of the show, running the gamut from perky and giddy to heartbroken and stoically resigned. It would have been enough to convey the goodness and light of Galinda’s seemingly superficial nature, but Chenoweth digs deeper to craft a multi-layered portrayal, from heights of happiness to plummeting pathos. Her Galinda is not all good, but you love her for her human shortcomings.
Idina Menzel is the green one, or Elphaba as she is known here. Ms. Menzel contrasts beautifully with Chenoweth, and gives an equally compelling, if less showy, performance. She is a powerful belter ~ remembered rightly for her showcase performance as Maureen in the original cast of Rent. Here she must erase the horror recalled from Margaret Hamilton’s chilling turn in the movie and forge the character into a creature of empathy. Her Elphaba is a grower, not a shower, and the blossoming of her journey is something to behold. It may forever alter your perception of the Wicked Witch of the West. Both lead ladies elevate the show, and during the all-too-rare moments when the material matches the talent, ‘Wicked’ truly soars. The budding, complex friendship between adversaries Galinda and Elphaba is what keeps it all together, and it is this emotional bond that carries the weightier moments of the production.
Visually it is compelling ~ a mechanical theme echoes from the gears and cogs that frame the stage and battle with encroaching vines, to the Dragon Clock and time motif that run throughout. A giant witch’s hat materializes early on, portending events to come, and the aforementioned entrance of Galinda is an indelible sight. However, such visuals and ideas resound with more impact than does most of the music, and this is usually a death knell for a musical. Save for the lilting ‘Popular’ and the majestic ‘Defying Gravity’ (which takes off literally and figuratively thanks to Menzel’s powerhouse vocals), there are few songs that remain memorable. ‘What Is This Feeling?’ offers moments of exhilaration while ‘Dancing Through Life’ and ‘One Short Day’ are merely serviceable. Closing duet ‘For Good’ mostly succeeds through the emotional delivery of Menzel and Chenowith. And it is this crux that is the bane and saving grace of the show: without these two charismatic performers, the show itself may not fly.
Broadway’s past ~ where shows relied on well-known musical stars (Ethel Merman for example) ~ seems to be the Broadway’s present and future too, as movie stars grace the Great White Way with amped-up head mikes and passable singing voices. There is danger in it though, for what happens when the star departs, as all stars eventually do? Strong shows that depend largely on ensemble casts like ‘Rent’ and ‘Chicago’ will endure, but others may not prove so stalwart. When the music is decent the show can survive; when it’s not things get tricky. ‘Wicked’ is at its best when Menzel and Chenoweth command the stage. In their absence the production falls a little flat.
Still, ‘Wicked’ does offer something for those searching for deeper meaning. “Are people born wicked, or is wickedness thrust upon us?” Galinda asks early in the show. But while the sinister nature of evil is questioned, it is never dwelt on or deeply explored. Instead, the musical raises the question of whether those who are popular can do more good through their power, than those who openly oppose the system, but lack the clout because of their convictions or beliefs. Is Galinda perhaps more insidious and intelligent because she recognizes the power of popularity and the platform that results? Or has she been cowed and molded into a public figure without true morals and standards? Is Elphaba somehow better for her unyielding stance, or foolish because it ends up with her banishment? Who, indeed, is the most wicked?
The musical is at its best when is posits these queries through the luscious vocals and impeccable performances of Chenoweth and Menzel. Without them, ‘Wicked’ may prove to be a bumpy ride that never quite takes flight. For the moment, they’re here ~ each giving a luminous portrayal of two strikingly different women making their way in the world ~ go now to see them soar.









































