Category Archives: Fashion

A Night of Holiday Revelry & A Perfect Martini

After being derailed from a couple of holiday parties by a pesky cough, I was back in ridiculously-red-plaid form for Rob’s annual fete last night. Andy and I stopped by the bar at Jack’s Oyster House for a proper martini, where we had the pleasure of meeting the man behind Fussy Little Blog in person. Daniel is indeed fussy regarding his cocktails, but in the best possible way, and I love when someone I met online turns out to be more affable and friendly than you expect.

I’ve always had luck and great experiences meeting bloggers and online aquaintances, and this proved no exception. Of course, I don’t meet people I haven’t corresponded with or researched, so it’s not like they’re total strangers. Still, one never knows how someone will be in real life, so it’s always a reassuring moment when the idea of a person matches the reality, and sometimes exceeds it. Daniel was as articulate and enthralling as his blog and tweets would lead one to believe, but funny and friendly as well – which, as we all know, doesn’t translate as readily to the written online world.

I also got to shake hands with Steve Barnes of Table Hopping blog fame (and a fabulous writer/critic in Times Union print form as well). Writers are my heroes. Like Daniel, Steve has the envy-inducing luck to be better-looking in person than in photos.

When cocktail time was done, we went a few streets over to Rob’s, where I got to see friends I’ve now known for over eleven years one last time before Christmas. It is one of the greatest, and rarest, treats for me to walk into a room and know almost everyone by name, and it’s one of life’s most warming comforts. This is the best part of the holiday season.

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My First Awards Dinner

The Pride Center of the Capital Region celebrated its annual Awards Dinner this past Friday at the Hilton Garden Inn in Troy, and I was honored and humbled to be chosen as their ‘Volunteer of the Year’ for my work at the Romaine Brooks Gallery. The only glitch was that I was expected to make a little acceptance speech – and I do not do public speaking. However, right before we left for the night, a rainbow appeared over our front yard, so I took it as a good omen and started getting ready.

The trick to pulling off any decent outfit – and to feeling confident and secure in said outfit – is to start with a pair of underwear and socks that make you feel good, and as if you have a secret that no one will know about. In this case, a bright canary pair of Emporio Armani briefs and some matching argyle socks from Hugo Boss provide the necessary shot of fun to counteract any insecurities. And they’re my secret boost of confidence needed to pull off The Suit.

Yes, it’s a little bit plaid. Yes, it’s a little bit garish. And yes, it’s a little bit questionable – but for all those reasons and more I loved it. But what I loved more was the fact that some of my favorite people got to be there with me that night, including my Mom and best friend Suzie – who surprised me with a trip up from Brooklyn. I normally don’t like surprises – at all – but this was a good one, and Suzie always sets my mind at ease. It was exactly what I needed as the minutes leading up to the Awards ticked on, and my heart started to beat faster and faster.

According to the schedule, I was going to follow the Paul Postiglione Youth Services Award, given to Joshua Dunning Powell. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Powell gave the most moving and powerful speech of the night, recalling his days as a bullied child, and how no one had helped him. The whole room was choked up, and I was on the verge of balling. It was incredible – and easily the moment I would take away and remember from that night. I looked helplessly over to Suzie as if to ask ‘How the hell can I follow that?’ and chugged a glass of wine.

Luckily, there was a Silent Auction interlude, and some fundraising to be done, that both distracted and lightened the mood before I had to accept my award, and thank God. The always-entertaining Penny Larceny introduced me, and before I knew it I was at the podium.

“The only thing I hate more than public speaking is a pair of crocs,” said the man in the plaid suit, and then I quickly ticked off a brief list of people who helped me in managing the gallery, and then I was off. It was the briefest of speeches that night, but I survived it and could enjoy the rest of the evening worry-free.

And it was indeed a grand evening. Being that this was our first time attending the Pride Center’s Awards Dinner, I didn’t know what to expect. Surely not so many wonderful, supportive people from all communities – and certainly not so many moving moments that made me proud to be a gay man in the company of such fine citizens.

The best part of the night was seeing my family and friends gathered together to support me. That meant more to me than anyone would ever guess. Thank you Mom and Dad, Suzie, and Andy

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What Does One Wear to the DMV?

A bow-tie and a jacket from Brooks Brothers, of course.

(And some very fun underwear that will remain my little secret.)

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How to Pull off the Man Clutch

At first I was resistant to the idea. Like most extreme trends, the idea of a man clutch is initially silly. What’s the point? With all the messenger bags and body bags and portfolios available, do we really need another accessory? Absolutely. To paraphrase a line from Steel Magnolias (because that’s exactly how gay this blog is), the ability to accessorize is the only thing that separates us from the animals.

While in Boston, I decided to forge the trend, but first I needed to find a suitable clutch. Being that the idea is relatively new (and decidedly not-yet-popular) there weren’t very many man clutches available. There were smaller messenger bags, but they all had straps or handles. There were dop kits and toiletry bags, but they were too bulky. The only clutches out right now are the female clutches, so yes, the man clutch, for now, is simply a woman’s clutch carried by a man. I’m cool with that, and confident enough to pull it off, which is one of the secrets on how to utilize the accessory without looking completely ludicrous.

If you’re going to carry a man clutch, there are a few suggestions I would make so you come off as eclectic and quirky rather than straight-up drag queen – but if you’re thinking of doing it, you don’t really have much wiggle-room for differentiation on that front – I mean, you’re carrying a clutch for God’s sake.

First rule, nothing frilly. No bows, or ruffles or even pleats. No ruching or puckering or fringe. No excessive buckles or buttons or ornamentation. The goal is for streamlined and elegant. Simple lines, clean surfaces. Keep the material on the rugged side as well – leather or canvas – and keep colors muted, or at least coordinated with your outfit. Above all, no sequins or feathers. Again, you’re carrying a clutch. It’s enough.

In the photos seen here I chose a lemon-hued version in leather, to match the scarf seen in the background. While at first I thought it would be an exercise in whimsy, it turns out the idea is surprisingly utilitarian. This is not solely a matter of superficial fun over function – a man clutch can be quite useful in freeing up pocket space that might otherwise be over-bulked with wallets, cel-phones and keys, while not weighing one down with an unnecessarily-full-size messenger bag that has no place at a crowded restaurant table or theater seat. Far from an “extra” accessory, the man clutch can take away the bulky pocket syndrome, replacing it with something svelte and sleek. It also makes things a bit more convenient when everything is in one place, so you don’t have to play pocket-pool or ass-fish while searching for stuff.

Pulling off the man clutch takes a bit of confidence and panache, and a pair of balls as polished as brass. It’s not a move for the weak of heart, or those simply following a trend for trend’s sake. But when done correctly it can leave an unforgettable impression, and that’s my goal in life.

[Now we just need to find a suitable moniker for the object – “man clutch” is a bit too pedantic. “Murse” was snottily suggested by a FaceBook “friend”, but I’m more partial to “mutch” (which seems more suitable since a man clutch is, let’s own it, a bit much). I remain open to suggestions.]

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Sunkissed and Scent-sational

Orange. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Andy’s not a fan, but he’ll have to deal, as I’ve decreed orange to be the accent color for my Spring/Summer season. It starts with a Jack Spade bag and a complementary card holder, and goes down to a hot pair of argyle socks. I’m looking at orange shoes next. Yes, I have one pair already, but they’re an old Polo set from long ago. So that’s the revolutionary costume plan for the season. Orange. (And lavender.)

Now if I can only decide upon an anniversary fragrance. It’s been narrowed down to a couple of Tom Ford Private Blend scents (Champaca Absolute, Neroli Portofino, or Oud Wood), an Hermes, something by Frederic Malle, or a Creed (Silver Mountain or Imperial Millisime). Last year I wore Creed’s Green Irish Tweed for the wedding weekend, but I think I may want to save that for the super special occasions. Either way, it’s an exciting time for citrus.

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Taking It All Off

It begins, as so many things do, with a change in wardrobe. Style often leads substance ~ testing the winds, paving the way, setting the journey. This time, this day in fact, feels different. It begins with a shedding – of skin, of hair, of chrysalis, of excess. A metamorphosis – an evolution – the way around the world. And all from a simple change of clothing.

There is power in what we wear. Like it or not, it matters – appearance matters. You can pretend it’s what’s on the inside that counts, and you can tell that to your kids and students, but there are truths to this world that they will discover regardless of your best intentions.

I’m jumping ahead, when really this is still the early stages of the beginning – and it starts with what you decide to put on your back in the morning. For the end of winter, a toned-down palette, a less-fitted silhouette, and a simpler way that approaches minimalism.

There may be peace found in neutral tones- cream, beige, slate, charcoal, gray, and black. Perhaps a dash of some tan, maybe a somber bit of olive green or the formerly dreadful navy – but all subdued, all designed specifically to not stand out – the focus turning to the head, the hands, the skin.

And then, slowly, and almost imperceptibly, the focus moves inward. It’s a new thing to have fashion begin the search for the soul, but how could it have happened any other way?

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The Wedding Celebration Coat

I think people wanted to see The Wedding Coat more than anything else at our reception, so without further ado, here it is.

Extra special thanks again to Marline’s Momma, who made this coat of dupioni silk. She really crafted an amazing work of artistic couture.

All I had to do was add some organza and tulle to finish it up.

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The Wedding Coat

Here is a simple riddle for you: What takes 25 yards of dupioni silk, 80 yards of tulle, and 50 yards of organza to create? If you guessed my wedding reception coat, you’d be correct. I won’t even begin to calculate the hours of labor that went into it between myself and Marline’s Momma, who did most of the sewing. (She is amazing.)

For my part, I created the train and immense tulle underlay (all 80 yards of it). The hundreds of organza ruffles had to be individually hand-sewn by yours truly, but with customary diligence and planning I finished them all a while back, filling four large bags with the whimsical frills before applying them to the train.

The only problem is that it’s not quite conducive to walking, not so much because of the weight but rather the immensity and bulkiness of all that tulle and fabric (it actually requires that I be buckled into it.) Basically, I won’t be wearing it for long. However, it practically stands on its own, so I don’t even need to be inside it for people to enjoy its beauty.

It was, as it always is, a labor of love.

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The Rehearsal Dinner Outfit

Pink Jacket by Brooks Brothers. Pink striped tie by Robert Graham.

Pink shoes by Ted Baker.

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The Wedding Shoes

These are but two of the pairs I’ll be wearing this weekend. (Because pink goes good with green.)

There’s also a pair of black wingtips that I’ll wear to dinner at Mistral.

The lime green moccasins were purchased over fifteen years ago, and are serving as the ‘something old’ every bride needs.

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A Silk Dressing Gown/ A Defense of Fashion

I’m not usually a fan of vintage clothing (I can’t stand the smell), but once in a while I’ll delve into the second-hand shops and see what I can find. This has resulted in the acquisition of a favorite kimono from Chicago, a Jean Paul Gaultier denim jacket from Boston, and an infamous corset from San Francisco.

I was also given the beautiful vintage silk dressing gown in these photos from my friend Rob. I take it out when I need a day of decadence, and with the house-bound weather we’ve had of late, it was definitely that time. Coupled with a book, a cup of green tea, and a comfy conversation couch covered in fluffy pillows and a thick, plush blanket, it is a moment of self-indulgence. I know some may dismiss my obsession with robes and clothing as silly, so if this is you, please move on to another site.

There are a number of my friends who don’t understand my love of fashion, or why it means so much to me, and I guess when you look at it in comparison with devastating earthquakes, impending tsunamis, or even a killer killer whale, it may seem frivolous and superficial.

That said, there is a deep, profound effect that fashion can have on the world, and for me it’s the same way that beauty and art will always be an important and necessary part of humanity. It can be a brush with the sublime, and it moves me more than I could ever fully convey.

It’s just as valid as any other hobby or passion, if not more-so. It’s the way we present ourselves to the world, and a direct correlation to the respect we give to other people. Far from being a  self-centered, self-serving obsession, it’s exactly what we think those around us deserve to see. If you go around in sweats and ripped T-shirts, you must not care enough about your fellow human beings to put any effort into what they are seeing.

At its simplest, wearing something decent makes me want to be a better person. It’s something I do to impress others, to make an impact, to show that I am willing to put an effort into my appearance – and I do it as much for other people as I do for myself.

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