Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve been back in town since Monday night, and I haven’t posted until now, more than a week after I left. Actually I’ve been writing bits and pieces of this entry over the past couple of days. Since Thom already wrote an excellent, comprehensive review of our New York getaway (go read it if you haven’t already), I thought I was going to add just a few quick notes here, but once I got started, I kept writing and writing, and it slowly turned into the hulking mass that lies before you.
Enjoy. Or at least be kind and pretend.
Friday: We begin with the original raison d’être of our weekend escape: the Rufus show. Joan as Police Woman led the opening acts–her solo set was pretty good, but I would’ve liked to hear her songs with a band to back her up–and then came Kiki and Herb. They were a riot. Kiki ended their set singing the hell out of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” which had me laughing so hard the whole time. Rufus was in top form. He looked and sounded fabulous. Some highlights: a new song called “The Art Teacher,” to be released on Want Two; “Greek Song” sung as a duet with Kiki; the entire band dressed in witch hats and capes for “Oh, What a World”; typically adorable Rufus moments like forgetting a phrase in “Foolish Love” and “L’Absence” (the latter by Berlioz, during which Rufus blurted, “Fuck!” and then a second later, “Berlioz didn’t write that part”); and the encore with Martha, “Nuits de Miami,” always a treat.
Saturday: Valentine’s Day! Thom and I had been listening to the Wicked cast recording on and off for months, so it was great to finally see it all come together. Our seats were at the rear of the orchestra, but the section is on enough of a slope that the view was fine. Everything about this show is amazing: the cast, sets, music, etc. Kristin Chenowith and Idina Menzel are perfect. Such energy. When Idina rises above the stage at the climax of “Defying Gravity,” it’s an awesome convergence of light and color and music. We’ll definitely see the show again sometime. (I was just reading the past two weeks’ Broadway grosses on Playbill, and Wicked attendance was at around 96%, a regular performance rate second only to The Producers for those weeks.)
After Wicked, we went gallery hopping in Chelsea. Our first stop was Gorney Bravin + Lee (by the way, the next day at the Cooper-Hewitt gift shop I came across an innocent looking, yet very opinionated book on typography that admonished people who use the plus sign like that, instead of the ampersand–which you see all the time in names of design firms–as having no sense of lettering), where we viewed a group exhibit called “Future Noir.” More notables: “Game Show” at James Cohen Gallery, whose front-window display is a ping-pong table painted black and white (patrons are encouraged to play; did you or I win, Thom?); and a series of large, dark and evocative photographs by Bill Henson at Robert Miller Gallery.
Back at the hotel, Thom surprised me with a couple of presents: a soft little heart-shaped door-hanger that says “stud muffin” on the front, with a zippered pouch full with candy hearts; and a book entitled Meet Me in the Bar: Classic Drinks from America’s Historic Hotels, in which he wrote a very sweet inscription. How darling!
Sunday: It was fun meeting Jeff and Matt (you read their blogs, don’t you? of course, you do, good reader), and chatting over lunch. Seriously, could they be any cuter?
Afterwards Thom and I walked to Footlight Records on East 12th Street, a great place for musical theater and vocal music, especially on vinyl. I’ve been there a couple of times on my trips to New York, and it turns out they no longer carry the Italian cast recording of Rent, which I’ve been meaning to get. Grr. Oh, well.
We had some time before our evening at the theater, so we made our way to the Guggenheim, my first time there. A few of the upper floors were closed, with the rotunda walls completely bare, which made the structure a lot more stark than one is used to from pictures. There was some great art on display in the galleries: Boccioni (a well put-together exhibit, which included lots of related paintings by various artists), Kandinsky, and Klee, in addition to works from the main collection, like Picasso and Gris (that’s one of his works, Fantômas, in the current Rebel Prince banner, above).
Avenue Q was a blast. Go see this show. Now. We sat up close, in the third row off to the side. The John Golden Theatre is a relatively small Broadway venue, perfect for a show like this whose main characters are puppets. My only tiny quibble was with some of the staging. Granted I’m not expecting Susan Stroman choreography meets Sesame Street, but what little there was seemed a little hokey. Other than that minor point, it was fantastic. Definite highlight: the super-cute and super-talented John Tartaglia, who plays Princeton and Rod. Can we take John home with us? Please?
Side note about the show: this isn’t a spoiler, but when the cast asks you to “give us your money,” do dig up some spare cash and throw it their way. Thom did, and got quite a flirtation from the Gary Coleman character. Heh. The Playbill notes that all donations received during the performance go to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.
Monday: What’s a trip to New York without some serious shopping? We checked out the Bluefly outlet on West 24th Street, where all items were reduced to $25. However, as you might expect, it was slim pickings, especially for men’s clothing. There were some fabulous finds for women, however, which makes me think I should figure out my hypothetical dress size and explore my drag persona, yes? The other highlight was the Barneys Co-op warehouse sale, which runs through the end of February. What a zoo. Actually, it was more like an underground club–queue at the door, crowded spaces, cute fellow patrons. Everything was at least 50% off, but at a place like Barneys that doesn’t exactly translate to cheap. I came across a lucious suede jacket for $750… marked down from $1500. Needless to say, I moved on. I did end up getting two sweaters (one cashmere, the other merino wool, both Barneys label) and an Arnold Zimberg black dress shirt with an embroidered design down the sleeves (which I wore to work the other day). Fabulous.
The case for allowing gays to marry begins with equality, pure and simple. Why should one set of loving, consenting adults be denied a right that other such adults have and which, if exercised, will do no damage to anyone else? Not just because they have always lacked that right in the past, for sure: until the late 1960s, in some American states it was illegal for black adults to marry white ones, but precious few would defend that ban now on grounds that it was “traditional.” Another argument is rooted in semantics: marriage is the union of a man and a woman, and so cannot be extended to same-sex couples. They may live together and love one another, but cannot, on this argument, be “married.” But that is to dodge the real question–why not?–and to obscure the real nature of marriage, which is a binding commitment, at once legal, social, and personal, between two people to take on special obligations to one another. If homosexuals want to make such marital commitments to one another, and to society, then why should they be prevented from doing so while other adults, equivalent in all other ways, are allowed to do so?
