GLAAD's annual summer event on Wednesday night drew "out" some gay cognoscenti, including (above) weatherman Sam Champion (who I don't think is officially on the record as gay?), recently engaged longtime partners Thomas Roberts and Patrick Abner (below) and Manhattan implant Sonja Morgan (way below).
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Madonna gets teary thanking her late mom
I was invited to cover the red carpet for Madonna's W.E. premiere at the Ziegfeld earlier tonight. Then I was uninvited. (Space.) Then I was re-invited. I wound up getting to go, and it was a blast of epic proportions. There was a very light turn-out of fans in the cold rain, but the press was packed into a long tent leading into the theater. I was placed two slots from the bitter end, which turned out to be a nice position because anyone who did the red carpet had to pass us to get inside.
I've had front row before but A-1...I'd be riding her dress train!
I made friends with a woman covering for Pink Is the New Blog, but she was whisked away ("first, they came for...") to a spot in the lobby so I wound up bonding with Matt from Hard Candy Music. As I told him, we were probably the lowest men on the totem pole so as such would be lucky to sniff Madonna's stardust as she breezed by. Which meant anything else would be a cause for joyous celebration. We also chit-chatted with a sexy, dark-haired (they have those there?) Swede named Pablo (they have those there, too?) who shoots for Vogue. He was much nicer than you'd expect for a Vogue shooter, and him saying, "One shot for Vogue?" had the effect of a brick wall, stopping nearly every celeb who breezed by. (Patti Smith was not impressed, but I was fucking impressed that Patti Smith walked past me, let alone that she was attending a movie by Madonna.)
The carpet got off to a slow start, but the tip sheet was insane! Check out all the names:
Some of these people didn't do press or didn't show
The first star on the carpet seemed to be one of the film's two male leads, dreamy James D'Arcy, who looks even better with a shaved head that he does with his foppish blond Edward 'do.
Julia Stiles is miles of smiles—for Vogue
Ewan told this reporter the answer to her question was HIS business
Andrew McCarthy was born to run
Patti Smith— love to know her opinion of her fellow Downtown doyenne
It's Diane von Furstenberg, y'all!
"Mine is even younger than yours, dahhhling!" With Calvin Klein!
Guy Oseary said "too stressed!" when I asked if I could quiz him
Spartacus sexpot Lucy Lawless with Liam McIntyre; she unceremoniously plopped her coat on the carpet to pose. She was fab!
Big, unaffiliated stars slipped past most of the press, namely Ewan McGregor (who was at one point attached to do this film), Julia Stiles (who was having absolutely none of any press except for a shot for Vogue), Andrew McCarthy (who gamely answered my question about a fantasy Madonna collaboration: "A duet, of course!"), a stunning Lucy Lawless with equally stunning Liam McIntyre (she gave me a great answer, he sort of avoided making eye contact rather than give us a "no") and then still others who I only saw fleetingingly like Diane von Furstenberg, Guy Oseary (Madonna's manager said he was too stressed to answer my question), Donna Karan, Calvin Klein (big kiss for and from Madonna and some conspiratorial chatting amongst them, perhaps about hot young guys!), Lady Bunny (I was impressed, too), Zac Posen, Ivanka Trump (pretty, actually) Jack McCollough & Lazaro Hernandez (hotness) and several people even I didn't recognize. (Not Z-listers, more like fashion A-listers.)
I'm way behind on my blogging thanks to a last-minute trip to Vegas and some work drama, but I wanted to be sure I wrote about GLAAD's 10th Annual OUTAuction, held this past Sunday at the Metropolitan Pavilion on W. 18th St.
Greeted at the door with a program and a smile
I landed at JFK, went home, showered and readied myself, and immediately turned around to get to the carpet on time. The event had originally included Jonathan Groff (who I've seen four times in the past couple of weeks but resisted assaulting for a pic-with since I'd be seeing him here), but Groff was suddenly unavailable after confirming. He wasn't the only one—it was pretty ridiculous how many people scheduled to attend did not, including Ramona Singer (who was lazily tweeting about a romantic weekend she was having out of the city), Anika Noni Rose and Anthony Rapp.
I was the only person on the carpet doing video interviews, and I didn't do many, just the event's special performer Kimberely Locke ("Do I look good???" she playfully asked me before we began) and the most famous face to attend, MSNBC's Thomas Roberts. I asked them both what part of them would go for the most money if they were to auction it off, thinking they'd opt for something like "my sincerity" or "my loyalty." Instead, Kimberley opted for her "girls" (they are spectacular) and Thomas, smiling at the implications, settled on his eyes. (Though any fool knows his behind is the anchor of the Thomas Roberts show!)
The funniest part of the carpet was when my "date," ginger model (and model ginger) Mark MacKillop, arrived and crashed it. Hey, he's over six feet tall and is striking so gave the carpet some much-needed glamour, but I was dying and hoping GLAAD wouldn't be mad. They weren't. Mark's got an expression that says "I mean business," so it was cute when BroadwayWorld.com's Linda Lenzi encouraged him, "Can I get a tiny smile?" only to be met with an even more intensely brooding glare. Loved meeting her and her sidekick, Broadway star/hottie Ruben Flores. (Linda's amazing coverage is here.)
As of midnight last night, it was exactly six years since my first post. It's been a tough thing to keep up with a dayjob and outside activities, and just when I think I might walk away, a valuable connection or interesting opportunity or a kind word comes my way. Thank you all for reading me.
RAPT PUPIL (2006): The final night of Outfest with Boy Culture; I was fat but on the other hand got to meet Bryan Singer.
MY ART
Construction worker (shot this week) vs. James Dean
GUYDAR (since at least January 17, 2008) & ENDS OF THE WORLD (since at least January 13, 2008): Attractive men of the world—I got your backs. Your fronts, too.
i-i-i (phone)
Not totally built
Unaltered iPhone image that still blows me away
"Your pictures suck" (2008): An art critic attacks me, but not without sustaining some hits in return.
Let's call it a draw
DRAWN TOGETHER (2008): How my desire to draw related to my secret desire. One of my absolute favorite posts.
The shirtless one
LOST ANGELES (2009): My favorite photographic travelogue of L.A.
Even then, New Yorkers feared 9/11 was the beginning of the end
ART IMITATES LIFE (2006): My 9/11 and my distaste for grief tourism.
ME
Death of the party—Jeff in high school, already halfway through his life
BURNING MAN (2007): Tribute to my late high school friend and first romance.
Signed, sealed (eventually) delivered
LOST BOY FOUND (2011): There is a book in here somewhere.
With thanks the Real Househusband Gordon: Bethenny Frankel's Skinny Bitch Girl millions might be in jeopardy now that it's been alleged the product contains more than just agave nectar and tequila—it's supposedly got potentially toxic sodium benzoate.
A few thoughts: How does someone get $100 million for an "invention" that is nothing but agave nectar and tequila in the first place? How can Frankel dismiss this concern as a "non-event"? And is the reason I don't have $100 million that I don't drink?
Had a blast with my buddy Jason last night at the party for Michael Musto's new book Fork on the Left, Knife in the Back (Vantage Point). I guess as I get to know more people and they get to know me, I'm less of a fly on the wall than one of the happy maggots feasting on the fame, quasi-fame and frivolity.
With the man who helped inspire my move to NYC 19 years ago!
A Russian doll, an Italian-American princess and a Countess go into a bar...
Murray Hill at the precipice of Dirty Martini
Michael's a New York institution, like the Empire State Building or that weird smell you keep telling tourists you don't notice. He's also a fabulously funny writer, and his new book has fresh stuff in it, making it a must-buy. (No, really, I must buy it—it wasn't given away for free at his party unlike the Bacardi.)
I'd never been to the Copacabana on W. 47th, but I loved it. It felt like a throwback to the disco era—like 54, or maybe 47—and was oozing with cheesetastic outfits, semi-boldface names and genuine merriment. The love Musto engenders from certain circles is shocking considering his ability to cut a bitch with his words. He's embraced because he's unafraid to cut deserving bitches but is generous to those who haven't earned the scythe yet. He's authentic, and if his book is anywhere near as fun as this party was, you should check it out. (And not ...of the library.)
Fabulous detail
We arrived and ran into my friend Kenneth, who was waiting for artist and designer Scooter LaForge. They'd both turned on Madonna during (actually, before) HydrangeaGate but I have to stick with my gays even over my diva, so I was looking forward to chatting with them more later on. When I caught up with Scooter, he confessed that Madonna's response to HydrangeaGate had won him back. He met Madonna during the American Life era and said she'd been really nice, which is saying a lot since that was the era of, "I'm hot!"
Inside, the low lighting and kitschy decor helped to distract from the fact that most of us were dreaming we were 40 again, and the alcohol made quite a few of the attendees act like 20-year-olds. Mike Diamond, who doesn't need to have lighting on his side in order to make a splash, was interviewing as well as dancing with the kinda-stars.
The awkward moment when you both shriek, "I love your drag!"
Geri and I meshed well
My first celebrisighting was Geri Reischl, who dubs herself "Fake Jan"—she replaced Eve Plumb when Plumb refused to return for those godawful/gotta-love-'em Brady specials. She was decked out in the fishnets she'd worn at Chiller Theatre, when I first met her, and was traveling with her personal publicist/photographer. Nice chick! She'd apparently originally met Musto bar-hopping one night.
Random piece
A Guy Named Wayne
Mike Diamond in a cheap setting
I met up with Joe of Joe.My.God. and also one of his most vitriolic commenters, World of Wonder's Wayne, who I hadn't realized was the dude sitting two down from me at yesterday's screening of The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Wayne was in Versace delecto and like me was roving about looking for good photo ops. He found some.
Does his smile give you an Eddie Rabon-er?
It was also a pleasure seeing Eddie Rabon, one of (one of???) Broadway's finest dancers. (And he dances well, too.) He was there with a friend, enjoying his last month or so as Mr. Gay U.S.A. I then spotted Paul Iacono from (the new) Fame and The Hard Times of R.J. Berger (on which he played a horse-hung nerd), but he was chowing down on the amazing food so I didn't want to give him indigestion by introducing myself over a meat course.
"This old thing???"
What were they thinking in this moment?
Then things got nuts when hostesses Countess LuAnn de Lesseps and Lisa Lampanelli arrived. The clusterfuck around these women and guest Jerry Springer was a nightmare! I mean, Downtown groupies with cameras were unselfconsciously elbowing me to get their shots. But it was unnecessary as all of the stars were beyond accessible and gracious, posing for like an hour, even when they got frighteningly cornered on the second floor.
Russell Armstrong, the abusive husband from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills who everyone loved to hate, apparently hated himself even more—he has committed suicide.
Bravo exec and on-air personality (to say the least!) Andy Cohen will reportedly earn a low seven-figure advance for a memoir on his life, career and decision to be out in the media. See, kids? It's not always a minus to be honest.
