Patrick McDonald's 50th birthday

Tuesday night Patrick McWagon celebrated his big 5-0. In honor of such a momentous occasion he invited 30 of his nearest and dearest to dinner at Buddakan, at the same table that Lauren Davis used for her 30th, which had a splashy mention in Vogue.

The group however was a bit different than Lauren's. Guests included Amanda Lepore, Kenny Kenny, Jason Wu, the Mao boys, the Duckie Brown boys, the Keanan Duffty's, Charles Nolan, Nancy Basich, Robert Richards, Rod Keenan and Austin Scarlett.

What a treat! 30 great people who you always see out and about, air kiss, scream into their ear and move on.
We all got to talk and chat and drink and drink. When we were being seated Kenny asked if the restrooms were upstairs. I showed him the way to the ones on our floor and he was so disappointed, "But I wanted to walk down those fabulous stairs and make an entrance every time I went to the loo!!"

Amanda made a dazzling entrance down the staircase in a silver dress with bustle bow and fingerless gloves.

The Duckie Browns were fabulous to sit next to. Patty was kind enough to place me at the head of one side of the table so I had a fab group around me, Rod on my right and the Duckies on my left. The Widow Cliquot never stopped pouring and the food was great and bountiful but tuna tar tar never fills you up after boozing. Amanda admired my moustache and asked what wax I use. I told her I use Conk and she squealed and said she uses it on her spit curls.

Patrick was in fine form in Gaultier couture and a top had by Mr. Keenan. He was sure to make the rounds and talk to everyone. His birthday cake was amazing, designed to look like a hat, naturally. I guess it’s hard to make a cake that resembles and eyebrow.

After dinner we all piled into cabs and headed to Happy Valley where we had a table in the basement and we danced the night away. La Lepore was in rare form, so relaxed chilling on the lounge and hoping up to dance with me when she felt the notion. Lots of photogs were there and our new favorite, Rick Louis, sent me some I included here. Thanks Rick!

Shhh.. Its the Costume Institute gala

This time last week I was in a tizzy preparing for the big night.
My tux was caught in customs and I could not find a gardenia lapel pin to save my life.

But all ended up splendidly.
Justin, Sandy, Greg and I had dinner at Orsay and headed over to the Met at 10PM.
You want to know all of the inside scandal? Who did what at 3am at Bungalow? Oh and who was still partying at 5am at Alice Temperly's?
Well darlings, look elsewhere. This was one of those night that was just too good for gossip.

I did find this great image of Lauren, Zoe and me on gaysofourlives.blogspot.com
Where they got it I haven't a clue.

Can't wait for next year! I do hope I get invited by a designer next year to sit at there table. I want to experience the whole event, lock, stock and beverage....

I got Gawkered!

So the moustache is reaching it's own epic celebrity.
First its christening in Egypt as Abu Chanab (Father of the Moustache) and now a Gawker mention.
This is about one of the funniest things I have read.

Enjoy!
What's next? Bill Cunningham and the Sunday Styles?
What if I shave it off will I become a helpless, weak Samson?
And yes, I am horrified that I am wearing ALMOST the same outfit in two shots being blasted through the world wide web. It was simply a moment of folly and that is all I can say...

http://www.gawker.com/news/blue-states-lose/blue-states-lose-171723.php

3) Last Night’s Party. Dita photo #4659: Holy nutterfuckers, look at that mustache. That thing is so ferocious that it’s going to leap off dude’s face and form a Guatemalan death squad. And once its mission is completed and it returns to the States, the guy on the left is going to fuck its brains outs.

Ass envy

This is my new favorite blog.
http://assshot.blogspot.com/

Of course as soon as I found out about it I rapidly made contact with the ass itself and the next weekend had my picture taken with said ass.

It is about the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The boy attached to it is handsome to boot!

I encourage everyone to swing on down to Mr. Black on a Friday night and enjoy the earthly delights. Wish I could be there this Friday but it's my birthday weekend, the folks are in town and we are dining at the Arts Club.

Ill save myself for next weekend. Let the good times roll!

Corn doggin'

Yesterday I celebrated the natal day of my dear friend Cleo.
In honor of her we decided to spend the day imbibing beverages of the alcoholic nature(!)

We are both very southern in our own respect so we met for pulled pork sandwiches and I turned her onto my new favorite drink I consumed with gusto in Egypt. I don’t know the name but it is lemonade, gin and soda water. Refreshing to the nth degree!

We moved onto the Duplex for drinks with Terra. We coyly ask if they have lemonade. They say 'Sure! Two Lemonades coming up!'
" No, no sir, please add a tad of gin and soda to that."

Then we stammer over to Cowgirl Hall of Fame.
Here we again ask if they serve lemonade and then ask for extra ingredients.
Feeling quite boozled we decide for snacks.
"Godammit I know what I’m gettin', Corndogs!" Cleo announces.
Heaven!
We order and as we are deep throating massive fried dough and wiener with ketchup running over our chins, World Famous Club Kid Kenny Kenny walks by.

He looks at me in utter horror as I am gorging the man stick.
I choke up and yell, "Hey Darling!"
I get up to kiss him and he rears back and looks the other way. I'm puzzled but don't say anything.
We chat for a minute and he cannot take his eyes off our snacks.
Then in a daze he just glides off.

Cleo and I loose our minds. The running joke for the rest of the day was, "Kenny Kenny caught us Corndoggin!"
This morning I wake up and this email awaits me:

'Hi lover, what was that thing you were eating today, I didn't know if I
should have been attracted to it or scared of it, your amazing, lovely seeing u
Anyway, talk soon love kenny '

Post Egypt

Lord have mercy its been too long!
Egypt was unreal. Working on editing the diary to post tres soon.

I just read something I must share with the world.
A cute boy on Friendster said, when looking for the right man:
You must be stable just dont look like you live in one.

Bravo kid!
The Big 3-0 is next weekend so I am gearing up.
More to come.

Douglas Doppleganger

Last night House and Garden celebrated their 50 new trendsetters for 2006.
Included in this tony list of design creatures is my friend Douglas Little, modern alchemist and purveyor of curious goods.

I saw him posed out in top hats, lamb chops and tea cups in several magazines and realized that we must meet. After obtaining his cell phone number through one of my thousands of contacts I give him a bell, explain who I am and let him know that we were seperated at birth. He was delighted.

In the fall we met at Barneys with his charming boyfriend to go through his collection of candles, spider webs and corseted chairs, all which were my dream come true.

I covered him for Spoon magazine and since then we have become quite chummy enjoying lunch at the National Arts Club and emails zizzing back and forth. He has a show coming out on Bravo and he would like to include me. I am crossing every hair on my body.

I was delighted to attend last nights event and was eager to go into dandy overdrive outfit wise. I think I may of gone overboard.
It just so happens I have shaved my bear, grown lamb chops and a bushy stache in preperations for my trip to Egypt in April. I want to give a creaky colonial image while there to invoke a little 1890's into the trip.

Changing my look has required me to change so much more! 1940's fedora's dont look right with lambchops, preppy Brooks Brothers suits simply look wrong. Ive been sporting random top hats from Rod's studio, lots of envelope hats as well as his little sista souldjah civil war-esque caps. The look is going the direction of PT Barnum but it is quite fun to play dress up at 29 years of age.

Last nights ensemble included a 1907 frock coat, ysl button down, gucci black pants and Westwood patent shoes. Justin Giunta made me an amazing gold necklace loaded with charms, coral, watches and fobs, many that I found in my grandmothers old jewelry box.

Justin and I met at his place, had only a couple of cocktails and walked over to the event. We walked in and nobody said a thing or asked our names. We thought it was quite strange. Then it started to happen, "Oh Hi! I love your candles!", "Hi Douglas! So good to see you!", "Oh Mr. Little your portrait looks great over there!"

EVERYONE thought I was Douglas Little.

It was quite fun because it was a great way to meet people. An editor from House and Garden ran up and kissed me and then I had to explain who I was and she introduced me to Joe Zee. Mayer Russ, the editor of House and Garden came up and introduced himself. He knew I wasn't Douglas but was very humored when all of his PR people began buzzing around me with walkie talkies.

Justin and I had a great time, met lots of cool people and ate our weight in caviar and pate. Douglas finally arrived and it all came together for the crowd. Douglas' hat was much taller, he was a red head and he had a huge silver fox draped over his shoulders. It was obvious who was with Douglas, we were a cabinet of curiosities all by ourselves. Tattoed men, be hatted ladies in vintage gowns and everyone was dripping in jewelry.

Leaving the party while we were still having fun we headed back to Justins and met up with my newest interest, Alessio.
Yes my friends the siren of the port of NYC has been singing again. This beautiful boy is in town from Milan for the Armory show and leaves on Tuesday. He is a painter, writer and pianist whos music is in the Whitney Biennial as we speak. Did I mention he is absolutely gorgeous?
Alas, enjoy it while it lasts.
Amor est vitae essentia

Quote of the week

Its Sunday, Im drinking a tad of wine with Rod and preparing for my flight to Las Vegas tonight.
I love Sundays, sleeping late (930), cuddling with Mabel (my cat), reading the NY Times and never leaving the house.

Going through my stack of magazines I find last months Vogue and read Andre's article on Russia.
I was just there with my mother in August and fell in love with St. Petersberg.

Andre, apparently, did too, as did Marc Jacobs and Naomi.

At one point he informs us that the three of them were in a cathedral and the priest and all of his minions were giving a sermon. Imagine, soaring baroque ceilings, glorious chanting and bedazzled priests in gold brocade swinging incense through the guilded aisles.

At one point Marc nudges Andre and says, "That priest reminds me of a Tallulah Bankhead quote: Darling I loves your dress but your purse is on fire."

Does dear Talloo ever let us down?
More from Vegas.
Joey Arias got me tickets to see him in Zumanity and promises a blowout afterwards.
God help me.

Karl Lagerfeld on Charlie Rose

http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=tvshow%3ACharlie_Rose&so=1

So you may have to pay 99 cents to watch this but the payoff is priceless.
Karl moved way up on my Fashion Favorites list today.
His bon mots and historical references RIVAL Diana Vreelands.
A true dandy through and through.
My favorite quote: Being polite makes life so much easier
THANK YOU KARL!

Fashion Week in Review

Vive la Vignette!
That’s my round up of Fashion Week.
So many designers this season bucked the runway for an elegant presentation in a gallery, hotel or studio.
This is the way of the future my friends.

MAO
Went to the MAO party on Thursday night to kick off Fashion Week.
They really went all out this year with a bevy of burlesque dancers in silver makeup and glittering body paint and studly go go boys equally dazzling. WORLD FAMOUS BOB performed a gorgeous Marilyn Monroe strip tease and Lady Bunny thrilled the crowd with her raunchy re worked songs like Lauryn Hill's "Girl, you better, Wash Out!"

I was with my yummy friend Jurgen who is launching his own menswear line that is deee-lovely. I talked him up to a load of people and we kissed lots of old friends and cute new ones.
After the performance we headed to the relaunch of TAB.
Yes, you heard correctly. TAB is relaunching as a girly energy drink like Red Bull.
My friend, social swirler, Dabney Mercer invited me and I took Jurgen, Wesley and his friend over to The Drive In space. We passed up the TAB for the open bar and shook our trunks to some tunes while chatting with Dabney and a bevy of other beauties. I got just tipsy enough to tear my way into the inner circle of Missy Elliot's posse and start dancing around my girl.
I being in a corset and Westwood shirt with a tit print on the chest, Missy and her girls are loving me. They hoop, they holler, I almost fall over. Enough of that.

My lil posse heads out to hail a cab and lets fashion week begin.

SHOWS
Instead of the cattle call line to get into a show, the hope for a front row seat, the onslaught of the press to cover gross celebrities and a show where the models walk so fast you don’t even see the clothes, this is a fresh break.

In a vignette the models are all standing about for 3 hours (poor gals and lads) while the press takes there time looking at each piece, seeing it from all sides while taking notes and pictures. This way designers get much more bang for their buck, the press gets to actually mingle and catch up and the best part- There is usually cocktails!

Thom Brown had the best vignette in my book. It was at Exit art on the west side and he created a tableau vivant of boys skating in an ice skating rink, with snow fluttering about and sweet lulling music wafting through the air. Pine trees dotted the interior and editors mingled around the rink. His PR told us that the casting was a double duty. They boys had to be not only cute but well balanced ice skaters as well. I told Thom that what got me most tickled were the boys in shorts sporting sock garters.

After Thom I went to the new line Loden Dager (www.lodendager.com)
They had a vignette in the Frying Pan, that old trawler on Pier 63. That was great fun. Good DJ and boys standing at the bar, in rooms, on deck, all decked out in beautiful suits and fitted pants and button downs. Very French Beat generation.

Philip Lim had a great event with all the girls standing in a swirl of plastic sheets with a string quarter playing "Purple Rain"

HollyWould had the most elegant event. Staged at Christies she had all of the young socialites, including my two new friends Tinsley Mortimer and Dabney Mercer perched on 18th century lounges wearing her latest designs while sipping martinis.
They were all behind velvet ropes because they were wearing several million dollars worth of diamonds on loan for the night.
I chatted with Tins and Dabs and I noticed a cute boy approaching. I asked Tinsley who it was and she had no idea.
Then I asked Dabney and she screams, "Cator!" and rolls her eyes, "He was the one I tried to hook you up with at Bungalow 8 and then he had to leave and I don’t know what happened." Oh right, like I remember ANYTHING that happens at Bungalow.
Then Tinsley chirps in, "Ha ha! Cator made out with a boy and can’t remember him! Ha ha!"
We all had a good giggle with that one.

Those who didn’t stage a vignette are still OK in my book, for now.
Duckie Brown rocked my world with a sinister collection shown in a salon at The Carlyle uptown.

John Bartlett exorcised his Lumberjack fetish with a sexy collection of plaids, leather pants and duck boots
Trovata had yodelers and a St. Bernard in their show which was inspired by a scandalous trip to a Swiss Ski Chalet
Doo Ri was one of my favorite women’s shows full of silky black gowns topped with rugged purple plaid tops, capes and coats
Ruffian, who showed at the Arts Club as usual, was an ode to the Great American Novel. All the pieces were a perfect fit for Zelda Fitzgerald or Dorothy Parker
Keenan Duffty was great with his ode to Punks that is always spot on
Heatherette seemed the most wearable yet! Although wearable for club kids and teenagers, at least it wasn’t ALL big bird feather dresses (poor Naomi closed the show wearing one, not flattering)

HAPPY VALLEY
Heatherette's after party never disappoints and having it at Happy Valley only made it more amusing. Susan has officially landed back on the nightlife scene as the new New York Magazine article proves. I arrived with gossip hound and uber gentleman Ben Widdicombe to a club that is yet to open with hundreds of people waiting to get in. As soon as the doors swing open people race to the velvet ropes. Luckily Drew from Paper comes out and lassos us through the throngs. The party was a hoot and Amanda Lepore was super excited to be back from her 2 day trip to Copenhagen. I love that she pinned the doll that Jason Wu made of her onto her nude bathing suit. She looked like a voodoo warrior form Vegas.

MTV VJ
At some point at the tents Patrick and I went to the VIP champagne bar and met THE cutest boy ever. His name is Shire and he is a VJ for MTV Sweden and Denmark (is my oracle sending Scandinavian boy vibes my way eternally?). We drank copious amounts of bubbly and promised to meet up in the week. We were talking business and he pulled out his MTV microphone in the bar. When this happened half the crowd stopped talking and shot sex eyes his way. When they realized the damn thing wasn’t plugged in they glared and returned to sipping. Damn! I want an MTV mic to carry around. It’s better than being well hung. I saw Shire at several events and we finally met up on the last day of Fashion Week at Opaline where we danced for hours and said our goodbyes. Why are the good ones always so far away?

This was the best fashion week for me so far.
I was invited (or at least attended) around 20 shows (mostly front row!)and really got the word out that I am writing for great publications and that I should be kept in the loop with all the PR kids.
I also got to wear pretty clothes, see pretty clothes, meet pretty people and get completely schnozzled the entire week.
Yeay Fashion Week!!!

Groove is in the Milk

Last week the Harvey Milk school had their first Trans Week.
This was a week for everyone from Trans kids, to trannies in training to learn about the lifestyle. There were classes on female speech, collagen injections and how to adapt into society. The grand finale was a Vogueing Ball held in the cafeteria/entertainment room.

These kids have a small ball every Friday but this one was a much bigger event. MAC had makeup artists (including my roommates) come in and do the kids makeup and they always hope for a celebrity judge or two to take part.
When I heard this part I knew immediately who to call.

Lady Kier accepted before I even finished my sentence. She worked with the school in the 80's and knew all about it. When I called the school they about popped out of their skin when I told them Lady Kier would be a judge.

That Friday we got all dolled up. I wore a corset and a westwood top (no fun in the subway, thank God for my overcoat) and headed to Kiers house.

She was in nothing less than neon pink tights, neon blue skirt and a jeweled batwinged sweater. "Hold on Cator, let me just throw on this wig!" she cried from the bathroom.
Out she came with an auburn crimped fall wafting below her shoulders, all attached with a big pink hair clip. The kids were not ready- she looked incredible.

We arrive at the school and as soon as we get out of the elevator cameras begin popping. The staff was shaking. She met two of her biggest fans and they gave her a tour of the school. Luna reminds her that he used to take pictures of her on Eighth Street. She smiled and said, "I remember you! You are the reason I wore fake lashes just to take out the trash."

We end up in the cafeteria and meet some of the kids practicing and then they all fall in and start dancing. The MC, another student, is about the cutest damn boy I have ever seen. He was amazing on the mic and the kids listened to his every word.
Right before we started one of the teachers came over and said, "Just to let you know, we are going to introduce you Kier and you have to walk the catwalk. Oh and Cator, you are judging too, OK?"

We look at each other and brace ourselves. Two seconds later Groove is in the Heart is pumping and the MC declares, "This is my all time favorite song! And the girl who sang it is with us tonight- clap your hands for Lady Miss Kier!!!!"

Kier bounds out onto the runway and throws that fall all over the place. The kids look a bit confused. I realize that at 16 they were one year old's when this song came out. But slowly they got it and got her and once she hit the floor with a bouncy, arms in the air vogue move- the kids were in love.

Then it was my turn. How can you compete with Kier, especially with a corset? I glide down the catwalk tipping my hat, pulling my corset strings and finally giving a little hand to the face to the hat to the hips move. I am surprised to get a 'Get it girl' and "woooork!', but many of these kids know me so they were ready to give old Uncle Cator some props.

Then the competition began.
Groups included:
Real Femme
Best Designer Imposter Labels
Big Girls Battle
Free for all Vogue Battle

We were not prepared. These kids fell to the floor and popped back up, swung legs, popped, locked and climbed up onto the table to get as close to us as possible.
The Femmes we thought were real girls until a councelor told us they were all young boys. The big girls turned it out! One even got a Missy Elliot wig.

The evenings favorite was 'Santas Little Helper'. He had to be about 16 and had a black lace long sleeve top on with red velvet hot pants. Red mirabou was tenderly stitched around the bottom. This kid took control of the room. Kier and I voted on him every time but by the finals some other kids had won over the councelors who were voting with us. We really wanted to put him in our pocket and take him to Zaldy for a makeover.

At the end we gave out little trophys and the kids took off. We were on such a high that Kier and I plus my roommates hit Yaffa Cafe to go over each outfit, look and dance move.

That was more exciting and fullfilling than any night Opaline could ever muster up.

Judgement Day

I understand I have left some people on tender hooks by not revealing the outcome of my day in cabbie court.

I received a self addressed envelope in the mail and the contents read that the cabbie was found guilty, had 2 points taken off his license and fined $200.

I bet he wont even try to use that dildo story again.

Here comes the judge

Yesterday Rod and I went to court over a crazy cab ride that occurred on
October 20th.

Rod and Philip and I had just left a cozy dinner at Park Avenue Bistro after touring the International Antiques Fair.

I waved down the cab, we told him where we were going (home) and Philip politely closed the partition so we could have a private conversation. At this point the cab driver slams on the breaks, throws the partition back open and starts cussing at us telling us it is his right to open and close the partition.
PHJ said, "Just shut up and drive!"
He sped over to Madison and pulled up next to some police and told them we refused to pay him.
They sided with him! As soon as I pointed out that his medallion number was not showing he slipped it in. Sneaky.

We were so mad and flustered so we called 311 and made a court date.


Rod and I arrive and state our case.
Then the driver states his. Here is what he said:

This man here stopped my cab by swinging his leg out at me like a lady from the 1950's movie time! (Untrue)

Then he gets in and calls me sister! (Um, er, ok, true)

Then his friend the English man punches my window! (Untrue)
He punches and punches and cusses me out and says many bad words! (Untrue)

I stop the cops and they handcuff the English man! (Untrue)

Then this man here begins swinging a dildo around! (WHAT?!)


Where did this come from????
After he is done I get to ask him questions.

Sir did you or did you not have your medallion in its proper place? Yes!

Did you in fact see my friend in handcuffs? Yes!

And did you just say I was swinging a dildo around in the back of your cab?! Yes!

Dear Sir, we had just left the International Antiques Fair and I assure you there were no dildos for sale. If there were however, it may just be a more popular event.

I thought the judge was going to bust a gut.
We leave and he was found guilty or not guilty. I get a letter in the mail to find out.

Would that only happen to me and Rod or what?

Seventh on Sale

Thursday night was the first CFDA Seventh on Sale held in 10 years. For reasons unbeknownst to me, after a hugely successful event in 1995, raising $1.5 million for AIDS, the event was put to rest.
Happily, Vogue and the CFDA rekindled the soiree and in true Anna Wintour form, made it bigger and better.

Now I may be a trustifarian, but I don’t exactly have $3000 to plop down for a dinner ticket and neither do my commrads. Therefore we took the Plebian route and bought tickets to the dessert course of the evening.

Black tie was the dress code of the night so I did a Victorian frock coat, ascot number and Rod pulled out and dusted off his tux. We met Justin, who bought a Dior suit for the night, and his hysterical friend Ashley, who bought a new ball gown skirt, face and hair for the event, at Bottino for dinner.

Now my friend, if you ever would like to make a show stopper, dress in black tie, bring a stunning woman in a jungle red skirt with train with you and lead her into a dining room of a chic but mellow restaurant. We had the entire restaurant in silence. It was quite a scene, even the waiter got in on the act by gathering Ashley's train so that she would not get it caught under her chair.

Drinks were ordered and ordered and ordered and then we had dinner, which as always, was divine. As we leave to jump in a cab we all realize we have no idea where we are going. Who brought an invitation? We knew it was on Hudson Street somewhere...
Rod calls people, I call people, Justin doesn’t call people because he realizes he left his phone in the previous cab.

We finally find the joint and saunter in. As usual, who is at the door shivering in the cold and inhaling a cigarette but Chloe Severny. She gives her sexiest wink and welcomes us in. We are amazed.

Now I have been to some swank ones, but this really took the cake. Dear Ms. Wintour had the entire place turned into Narnia, a winter fairy tale. The floor was white and glittery as were the walls, tables and trees. All sparkling and cotton candy like. Life size paper mache rhino's, lions and tigers covered in glitter and borrowed from Disney, were laid all about the fairy dust.
Oh, I wish I still did acid.

Now this was a shopping event so there wasn't just socializing to do but buying. Too, too much for me in my present state.
We tour the place and see a who's who. Aerin Lauder and Linda Evangelista buying up baby clothes, Kenneth Cole cajoling with Diane Von Furstenberg, Lee Anne Rimes ogling candles. Jennifer Lopez, like Scarlet at Twelve Oaks was lounging with suitors surrounding her. Although her suitors were much chicer than Ashley Wilkes, there names were Dolce and Gabanna. Naomi Campbell was doing rings around the lot.

As Rod and I are checking out a white satin sleigh bed (bought by Damon Dash for his 6 year old daughter) I see Tinsely Mortimer. She comes dancing up to me and plants a firm one on my cheek. She is so excited about the shoes she bought. I ask if I will see her later at Bungalow 8 and she giggles, "of course silly!" "My husbands in China, so I’m out all night!"
Then we see Lauren Davis who I was in the Observer dancing with. She is amazing in a Herrera gown and in a shopping frenzy.
My favorite guests I meet was William Norwich, the society columnist for Vogue. He is so witty, and has been to some Marvelous Parties. I introduce myself and tell him that we have a mutual friend in London, Meredith Etherington-Smith. He is so excited to hear about her and I tell him stories of our trip to India together. He asks what I do and I tell him I too am a writer and he is a major mentor. He blushes and I give him a card. Later we see him again and he cant fid his date. Finally he calls out, "Blaine! Blaine!" and Blaine Trump elegantly glides over to speak. Always such a lady.

As the night is winding down Rod and I speak to Thom Brown and ask what he is holding, "Its my award I won tonight." He opens his award to reveal a clock, or is it an alarm clock? "Well we just blew our dessert ticket cover didn’t we, but hey Thom, if you keep that by your bed you will be reminded of your award every time the alarm buzzes?" I say. Thom laughs and we move on. I see Peter Arnold who I haven't seen in ages. He used to be the President of the CFDA and was with me when the towers fell in 2001. Since then I have always had a soft spot in my heart for him.

Rod and I go out for a smoke and run into Raoul, who is to thank for this white wonderland. We gush over how amazing the space looks and he starts spewing out how cheap all the dessert people look. "You can tell who only paid $300 for their tickets! Look at that girl and her cheap shoes? Why bother?"
Rod and I just roll with it and later laugh hysterically.

As I am heading to claim my two tiny candles I bought I see Ms. Wintour, who looks stunning in white satin bias cut Chanel. I tap her shoulder and ask where the bathroom is and laugh out loud.” Well, its right over there." she says dryly. And then I say, "Don’t you remember our Night of Stars joke two years in a row." Then she looks at me, and her frown turns upside down. Yes, I think she does remember those days, but maybe she is just trying to get rid of me. Whatever anyone says, I still think she is top drawer.

We tumble out with Justin and Ashley, who just twirled around in her skirt in front of its designer, Michael Kors. Rod heads home and Justin, Ashley and I head to Bungalow 8, society after hours club, bar none.

Water is in order and we dance on tables, sofas and stools until Justin and Ashley are passing out. I am still full steam ahead so I bid them adieu. Somehow in the mix Ashley asks me to wear her 3 diamond eternity bands for the rest of the night (Darling, I still have them and I am still wearing them!). As they stumble out of the door I find myself at the bar (yes, ordering water) with Dabney Mercer, Tinsley's sister. We are so excited to see each other we party until 4am. At this point she has already reserved a table at Cain with bottle service and is ready to go. I explain that I too am ready to go, go home.

And with that I kisss her and pop into a cab reeling from another wonderful New York night.

Big Daddy Daniel

Ive been going out for a long long long time, but I have never been to parties that are as much fun as one's thrown by Daniel Nardicio.

We met 3 years ago when he launched a party called High Life Low Life at the Slide. My ex boyfriend was the DJ there so I was there every Friday and Saturday. He brought the fun back to NY nightlife.

He would have burlesque dancers upstairs, go go boys downstairs. And not just cheesy go go boys, but ones dressed in wrestling outfits or blacked out teeth sucking on a corn cob pipe.
Those parties will be talked about years from now, I promise you.

Our relationship has slowly grown. I am now a regualr on his radio show on East Village Radio and helping him with a shoot for Sydney Mardi Gras as well as helping promote his newest project, the Love Club. We are two peas in a pod, enjoying the best of life, but loving the most scandelous and seedy parts as well.

The point of all of this is because he had the funniest quote the other night.
We met for dinner and I was sporting some new Ernest Cut and Sew super tight jeans.
He said," Cator I have always thought you were crazy but tonight I can clearly see your nuts."

I was speechless.

Doing the BUTT

Ive always been quite fond of mixing high brow and low brow. In dressing, drinking and social events.
Last night was a perfect mix.

I started out at Jamie Drake's book launch at the Pace Gallery on 57th Street. His new book is all about American Glamour and is packed with lush interior shots. All sorts were at his shindig: art, interior and fashion flocks converged. Mayor Bloomberg popped by since Jamie has been working with him for 18 years. He walked by, shook my hand and said, "Hey another nice hat!"
Either he remembers me from the Gay Pride event at Gracie Mansion or he thinks Im someone else. Who knows, but it was quite fun.

After a couple of cocktails and buying a book (BTW never buy at these events. I paid $50 and on Amazon it is $27! But if you want it signed, of course buy, but if you know the author, like I know Jamie, buy off Amazon and messenger it to them to sign)
we all clear out.
Jamie had a dinner at La Cote Basque but I had cocktails and a BUTT magazine party to attend with Justin.

I meet Justin at the W Union Square and we saunter over to the National Arts Club for cocktails. What a fabulous place. I love it more every time I go. We just sat in overstuffed old sofas and gabbed while drinking martinis in the parlor.

At 930 we decided to head down to the Cock for the BUTT party. But wait, we have to sop up some alcohol so where shall we have a quick bite? Katz's deli of course! The famed Lower East Side deli was the perfect spot, and all the more exciting since neither of us have been before. I order a chili dog and Justin orders brisket. While I am on my way to get a glass of water a little boy shouts at his dad, "Daddy, looks its a celebrity!"
"Why do you say that son?"
"Because his hat matches his boots!"

The dad and I about fell out laughing so hard. I turned around and said, "Well I am glad someone noticed!"

After dinner we walk over to the Cock. BUTT magazine, published in Amsterdam is the hottest cult rag in the fashion/gay world. I write for their brother publication, Fantastic Man.

The party was filling up fast with uber hipsters. We headed downstair (previously a dark room, eew) and I got to see Gert and meet Jop, the founders of the mag. Rufus Wainwright was there (another new member of the National Arts Club!)as well as my favorite artist Anthony Goicolea. I saw lots of fun people I havent seen in a while but after several beers my chili dog kicked in and I had to hightail it home to Harlem.

In my haste I forgot to get my free magazine and T shirt that were reserved for VIPS! :(

Naughty at the National Arts Club

Last week I attended the first event at the National Arts Club as a member.
Rod, of course, my plutonic boyfriend was my date.
The occasion was to honor Oleg Cassini. It was a black tie deal so I wore Red and Rod wore purple, naturally.
Rod had already imbibed a bottle of wine at home and I was a bit nervous for some reason about meeting new people.

We enter the Victorian splendor of the NAC at 6:45 and there are a fair amount of people rambling about. Champagne is presented at the door much to our relief. We stroll around checking out the art and the people. The crowd is mostly older, some ancient and they are all decked out in gowns, jewels and even hats. We loved that they had decorated the double parlor with Oleg's memorabilia. Along the marble mantles were picture of him hanging out in the Oval Office with John and Jackie, him with Grace Kelly, a snapshot from a fashion show and my favorite- one of JFK with his head in his hands with a bubble popping out of his head that reads: Oh no, Jackie! Not another Oleg Cassini bill!

There was an odd scent in the air all night that I simply couldn’t put my nose on. It was not until I read www.fashionweekdaily.com that I found out Oleg asked for all the flower arrangements to be spritzed with his signature perfume. We all reeked like Dynasty characters all night.

Drinks abounded and Rod and I met new people. Some fun, others not. We met a fun PR girl from Vogue and some great members who are eager to see young blood injected into to Tilden Mansion. So many people showed up that Rod and I spent much of the cocktail hour outside. The opera singer that they hired would of been great sans microphone but with one she was deafening.

As a new member I am not up on all the NAC customs but at 8PM a young man pulled out a triangle and began clanging it around as he roamed the rooms to alert us all that is was dinner time. I was expecting Mini Pearl to fall out of the fireplace and start square dancing.

We asked for our table assignment and we found out that we were at table 30. Our new friends were at table 9. Oh dear. We search and search to no avail. We finally ask some cocky waitress where we could find our table and she says, "Have you heard of Siberia?"
Sure enough we find ourselves in the furthest gallery in the house. The gallery was stark white and for up and coming talent. Not the cozy turn of the century oak panels that dominate the rest of the house. To our right were three people who were debating which Godfather was better and demanding more champagne. To our left was four cute girls who we found out were interns with the Fashion Committee. They all rose to leave thinking they were taking up valuable space and Rod grabbed one of their arms so tightly I thought she was going to scream. "Please don’t leave us with these people, please!" he ordered. The clan was more than happy to keep us company so they sat back down and poured themselves a glass of wine.

Now Rod and I have been to enough of these events to know the routine, roll out the rubber chicken and let the speeches begin. But Rod and I had a mission. We wanted to find the infamous Stanford White room. A friend told me about this secret room where I simply must have a private party. We begin to ask around. Aldon (NAC President) is busy working on his speech so he can’t be bothered. Others have no idea what we are talking about. Finally one man chirps up that it is actually a private club in the club. Oh now we really have to see it!

We hardly sit at our table because nobody is a member and although the Fashion interns are charming we have met some smokers hanging out outside who were the total cool kids of the club. And those flowers doused in perfume were giving us both headaches. A pattern seemed to emerge- eat a course, smoke a cigarette, order a drink ask about the Stanford White room. Repeat.

During Liz Smith's speech a bartender finally tells us he knows where the room is. So we weave through the already perplexed crowd wondering why we never sit at our table and find the elevator and push 6.
We adore the elevator- It has a huge mirror and a wooden bench. So we sit on the bench, push all the floors so we can drink our champagne until we reach 6. A huge sign says LIBRARY but alas, the door is locked. Returning to the parlors we find another room that looks fun, but once we knock and open the door, we find a little lady sitting on her bed. SORRY Girl!

The bartenders tell us that apparently some women own the Stanford White room named Iris Brooks and Brook Iris, or something and when they hold court up there all are welcome. Finally Rod and I are appeased. Mission accomplished.

By this point the event is over, we didn’t here anything anyone talked about and had a tad too much to drink. But no worries we had solved the puzzle!
We got our gift bags and headed uptown wondering what exactly we had just experienced.

I love the South

Just got back from a long weekend at home in Buford, Georgia.
Air Trannie was delayed as usual so I arrived at the home stead, Hathaway at 1:30am.
Mother was in her nightgown (yes women in the South wear nightgowns not pajamas) and had a 3 course meal set out for me. Our Basset Hound Buford was eager to see me and ran a couple of laps around me before passing out on the floor again. Dad was asleep on the couch and nodded in and out of conversation.

There really isn’t anything like waking up at home. I pull back the covers and see Canadian Geese flying past the lake and here the distant whirr of motor boats zizzing about. I lay about for as long as possible staring at the lake until Buford storms in my room and leaps onto the bed- ears akimbo.

Besides QT time with mom and dad, a gossip filled lunch with my sister I spent an evening with friends and a day with my aunt on her farm.

Friends & co. had a great dinner and then went to Model T's a trannie bar where they dress in the parking lot and perform lots of bad songs as expected. We order a margarita and the old time bartender asks, "Would you like salt on your rim? I've heard it stings."
I thought I was going to fall out.
Then the trannies revved up and each comes out doing a little ditty and then gives a toast to the crowd.
Two that stand out are:
"Here's to the future, here's to the past, let's raise our glasses to a great piece of ass!"
"Men are like floor tiles, once you lay one you can walk all over him"

The last performer of the night had a peculiar bulge and I am not talking about in the panty part. Eyeing her fishnet clad legs we notice a giant ankle bracelet ala Martha Stewart. Hey, the show must go on.

The best part of the weekend was at my Aunts.
I try to ride every time I go home but sometimes there is just not enough time in the weekend. She saddles up my favorite Quarter horse, Clyde and asks if I would like a little adventure. Music to my ears!

Her redneck neighbor has been baiting deer (meaning he lays down food in front of his hunting platform so the deer comes to eat and he shoots- so illegal) and she is afraid it is on her property. We venture off into the depths of her 150 acres looking for evidence. Not long after we head off we find a cleared field full of apples, corn and salt licks next to a hunting post. Bingo. But this is on his land so the best we can do is call the game warden.

We then explore further and wind up in what seems like Lord of the Rings territory: deep emerald green gorges, steep hills and lots of ferns and grand dame orange spiders. Not used to riding in the thick of things I forget that a horse may see a space between two trees and he thinks he can fit through, but he forgets about my knees. I spend half the trip with hands off the reigns pushing away vines, holding onto trees and ducking under spider webs. Of course I, Cator Sparks, would wear a Rod Keenan straw hat through the entangling world that is the Georgia forest. There were a couple of times I had to think quick- save the hat or save my face? The hat always won the war since I had already lost one Keenan hat this year, I couldn’t go back empty handed this time. Especially since this one was borrowed. A mélange of twigs, webs and leaves weaved about our hats and hair as we rode along. I should have taken pictures for inspiration for the next hat collection.

By the time we find all of the pink ribbons designating her land we realize we have no idea where we are. All I can think of is the redneck with the bow and arrow and flashbacks of Deliverance. Those thoughts quickly disappear as I look around and enjoy the fact that I am miles away from nightlife, crack heads and fashionistas. It is just me and my horse shuffling along trying to find a way back home. After we try getting home past a well and her horse Tater, gets caught in a briar patch, we realize the only way is back up the hill. So on this note I give Clyde a heft pat, lean down and hold onto my Western saddle as he bounds up the hill at a speedy gallop. Oh yes, and I hold onto my hat.

Arriving back to the farm I don’t want to stop. Can I please keep on riding into the sunset? Well if my loins were not pulsating and my throat didn’t itch for a G&T I would have, but we dismounted, washed our boys off and sent them out to graze. They were thoroughly over us. With that we headed inside, Uncle Jim poured us a cocktail and we chatted until it was time for my flight.

I headed back to the Yankee territory a bit buzzed with Dolly blaring as the sun set. The son of the South is eagerly awaiting the holiday season to shine again.

The good ole days

This is an ancient email but after watching a Nelson Sullivan video from 1985 I thought this would be a fun post.
It may not be as historical as his videos but I find it amusing all the same.
Circa 2002


* Long and Gossipy Email * print and read on the John or at lunch break

Well, I think for me, the swan has flown over Fashion Group International.
Am I jaded?
Im I bored?
Did I just not stay long enough?

The dazzle was not there this year, but the names certainly were:

Sarah Jessica Parker- practically wheeled in the back entrance about to POP from pregnancy. But still in Blahnik stilettos and flat ironed hair.

P. Diddy, I never saw him- but I heard the rush when he arrived- I think I had already anchored myself to the Makers Mark Bar.

Pierre Cardin- Old as Methusla, and with a hot young woman. Still had the sparkle.

Anna Wintour- in Drop Dead Dior - blod red velvet with a HUGE white fox stole. Very Glamour, Opps Vogue.

Manolo Blahnik- hair as white as white can be and a TOTAL gentleman.

Andre Leon Talley- his emerald broach sent me soaring, but his attitude passed me by.

Elsa Klench- stalwart Elsa- always a true lady

Speaking of Lady- Lady Bunny DJ'ed and had the best gown of them all- diamond halter blue paisley ball gown with HUGE hair.

Roberto Cavalli- with Carol Alt- isnt this a repeat of last year?

Janice Combs- wig, glasses and lots a ass.

Diane Von Fursteneberg with Barry Diller- she and Anna are tied at looking just like a Q-tip. Huge fur wrap and pencil thin satin black and white gown. VERY top heavy like Anna, but she wins for parlaying with the photo pit in Italian.

And my favorite of the night - Billy Zane!!!

He is my favorite, not just because he is a great actor and so so suave, but he was wearing a chic chapeau in sky blue and using it for all it was worth. Well after cocktails he vamoosed and while descending the stair case he put his hand on my shoulder and said " Wow- great hat!"
Damn if my tounge fell out of my mouth and I couldn't say Rod Keenan before he had sashayed down 42nd St!

So now the event begins and where do I head but to Bunny's corner. Who else am I going to talk to who will be quite yet so entertaining? She looks up and says- Have you ever seen so many old farts? Oh wait, I see one every morning when looking into the mirror....

We talked about how dried up the whole club scene is and how she is writing more songs than Dolly Parton these days. I played the -where in the world is Lady Kier game- with her and she was excited to tell me she was with Kier in London for 2 weeks recording tracks. George Clinton came by the studio and loved one of Bunnys songs and sang it himself! So heres to a revival in House and Funk!

My job is done and I cant stay for the whole event because my darling friend Victoria has just come in town from Italy to see me and she was laid up on some couch somewhere waiting for me to take her to 202 West 122.

I left and began my search for a goodie bag. Well, the whole lot of La Force and Stevens PR gals ransacked the bag room and ran out. I thought-Oh - ill do that too! Well Im not 5 feet away when some man of no importance comes up and LOCKS the door!

Well I walk right up to the man in charge and say- I need a gift bag! He says- Are you a guest or Volunteer?
Well I am a guest of course! (Just look at this coat and hat!)
Well why Sir are you wearing an ALL ACCESS PASS?

Balderdash! Foiled again.

I continue my walk of shame out the front door and what do I see out of the corner of my eye but Anna Wintour looking around for the bathroom. But before I can do my third Potty Apperance for her- she finds it and slithers under the door.

Alas- a night like a bad date. Lots of work and running your mouth and no gift to go home with.

But fear not kids- just when you thought the gossip grind had halted. I have received a invitation to Heidi Klumes infamous Halloween Bash at Capitale next Thursday. The invite is a mask- so lets just see if I can give www.hintmag.com's chic happens column- a run for their money.

xoxocator

Observed

This morning I got an email that I am gracing the pages of the New York Observer.

The picture is of me and Lauren Davis at the Museum shin dig on Monday.
I think it just might be the queeniest picture of me ever. It doesnt help that the quote is 'Cator Sparks and Lauren Davis camp it up'.

All those perfectly poised twirls and dips and the one picture they use is the one where I look like a coked up cazoo. Of course Lauren looks refined and elegant and gay. She has too much experience in the papers to dance like a wild woman.

Now I know why all the socialites have the same poses when they dance, because those poses are fool proof. That perfect one arm in the air, the other jazzily snapping with eyes turned to the floor all pulled together with a subtle smile. The image makes one think she is in her own little world, feeling the beat of the music while recalling last nights romantic interlude.

Not only did the image in the paper make my heart skip a beat but the fact that someone at the Observer had time to google me and find this blog really cured my hangover (well almost). Now if I had known they would be publishing my work I certainly would of given kudos to Rod Keenan for the 'spring straw hat', but everyone I imagined who would be reading this knows I only wear Rod's hats.

Note to self: Learn how to dance like a socialite and write the way you dress- always assuming you will be in the press.