Images from Gaultier's retrospective courtesy of Luigi Saturnino.
Loriot, a looker in black leather pants, guided the loquacious fashion icon through a series of questions about his humble beginnings (when, as Gaultier pointed out, "I 'ad no muh-NEH!") through his Madonna years and beyond.
Gaultier was bubbly and quick with a story—and an opinion. Everyone laughed when he said music has been important to his creative process, then seemed to slam current music by saying, "Now, maybe...not."
Lauper candidly confessed that producers wanted her fired "the whole first year" of the Kinky Boots writing.
BOY CULTURE RATING: *** out of ****
Went to see Cyndi Lauper last week in Queens—her homeland!—which took planes, trains and
automobiles to get to. (Okay, just a subway and a bus, but it was almost two hours thanks to construction.)
The venue for her She's So Unusual 30th Anniversary Tour was petite, and while her show was big enough to feature openers (Hunter Valentine), it was small enough that it had a befuddled lady making announcements between sets, just like a Brady Bunch teacher might during callbacks for the school play.
Hot—some would say red-hot—off the heels of his successful gig emceeing for the Chippendales in Vegas, Jeff Timmons, everbuff founding member of 98°, has launched an equally sexy venture with acclaimed choreographer Glenn Packard: Men of the Strip.
Glenn Packard: Choreographer and pec-wrangler.
The concept is that Jeff and a troupe of too-hot show-offs are touring the country with a tight stage show, with the whole thing being filmed.
I caught up with my old buddies (98° was the first pro photo shoot I ever assigned) to get the not-so-skinny on their ripped revue...
The first thing that needs to be asked is: How in the fuck has Timothy de Iturriaga never seen Magic Mike? The sexy, lanky boss of NYC's Wednesday and Saturday night strip club The Adonis Lounge (at Evolve on W. 58th and 3rd) practically is Matthew McConaughey's "Dallas," a wise, clever male-strip revue maestro who puts the mileage on his own can to good use directing newbies on how to turn a buck with a bump and a grind and a little illusory TLC.
"I haven't seen the movie, so I can't speak to what it's about," he tells me during our interview, conducted over the construction noise of a small crew renovating the club's back room. I nearly drop the camera.
It's like if a high-powered magazine owner admitted to never having seen The Devil Wears Prada.
"Don't fall in love with a stripper."
But the McConaughey character comparison is not an exact match, because while de Iturriaga's got Dallas's smarts, he's got "Magic Mike's" (Channing Tatum) cheerful disposition and easygoing
nature. He also gives good face—he told me he'd dreaded our video interview after smoothly talking into my camera for 20 minutes like he didn't have a care in the world. And all of the undeniably hot-looking (don't look for any sixes or sevens at Adonis, everyone is eight or above), hot-moving men at the club whom I've spoken to have praised Tim as a good guy who looks out for them.
Hey, it comes in handy having a boss as massive as the national debt when a client scores a five-song lap dance off of you and wants to walk without paying. Not that de Iturriaga gets into fistfights, but he is a one-man good cop/bad cop. "I suck dick," he says, figuratively, "and they usually wind up paying. But the executives who won't pay, the guys with black cards, them I get loud with. Either way, I always get the money. And luckily, 99% of our clients are at Adonis to have fun, not rip dancers off."
I Am Divine!, the latest inspired queer documentary by Jeffrey Schwarz (Wrangler: Anatomy of an Icon, Vito) opens with footage from the premiere of the film Hairspray in Baltimore. In it, Divine is intereviewed, gushing about how happy the night was making him. "I'm loving every minute of it!" he says, unaware he would be dead within days.
Divine and John Waters as teens, when their creative partnership was formed.
It's a bittersweet start to an otherwise ebullient documentation of a singular film icon, a punk drag artist with humor who was simultaneously the most beautiful "woman" in the world and the filthiest person alive. And underneath it all, "she" was also a mousy boy from Baltimore who unironically worshiped Elizabeth Taylor and longed for stardom.
Here is my fifth and final installment of this series. You can find Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4 if you click 'em. I was wild about the second skin on that first model above, but the final photo in the gallery—of a dude in Superman shirt—was nearly as hot as I shot it.
This edition (here's where you can find Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 5) is front-loaded with photos of the amazingly beautiful young dude who was this year's sexiest "Wolverine." (If you are out there, Mr. "Wolverine," I want to shoot you! Come forward and I will come correct for you.)
But there are plenty of others if you click through the gallery.
I've been to a lot of showcases in my day. I remember one particularly grim one that featured a lip-synching (what is the point?) boy band after which I became so violently ill (apparently unrelated to their "performance") that I lost 20 pounds in two weeks and almost died.
I've also been to some mind-blowing showcases, including the one for Jessica Simpson (because it was so monied) and the one for Alicia Keys (because she was so astoundingly brilliant).
Kingsberry spoke of finally fulfilling his dream of a showcase.
But one of my favorites of all time has to be the warm, masterfully performed one-nighter—called a "Sharecase"—featuring Broadway regular Grasan Kingsberry, which happened all over my heart at the Stage 72/Triad Theater on Monday night.