Confessions from the Velvet Ropes

Cibeles Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2010 in Madrid: Gwyneth Paltrow at Adolfo Dominguez, Princess Elena of Spain at Jesus del Pozo, Elio Berhanyer's 50th anniversary, Davidelfin's ginger invasion, Moët, paella & The Prado.

My Madrid fashion reports are up on A Shaded View on Fashion:

Cibeles Fashion Week, part 1

Cibeles Fashion Week, part 2

080 Barcelona Fashion Spring/Summer 2010: Come-hither swine-flu fashions, Dree Hemingway, Spanish V mag launch, Nancys Rubias. By Glenn Belverio

Hi Dolls,

I'm in Paris now, preparing for my lecture on my writing career at the Paris Fashion Institute. Last week I had the pleasure of attending another edition of 080 Barcelona Fashion in vibrant Catalonia. My coverage can be read here: A Shaded View on Fashion.

Au Revoir,

Glenn

Dree Hemingway backstage at 080 Barcelona Fashion. 

Photo by Glenn Belverio

Never mind Julia Child's Boeuf Bourguignon, here's Loretta Lynn's Butcher Holler Possum

Dear fearless foodies and guiltless gourmands,

While the ghost of Julia Child is busy slathering gargantuan amounts of butter over previously neurotic & anorexic New York, I thought I'd take things up a few notches with a recipe from one of my favorite cookbooks. Back when I was in Nashville, reporting for ZOO & A Shaded View on Fashion in 2006, Loretta Lynn's charming publicist gave me a copy of the superb "You're Cookin' It Country," a delightful collection of Crisco-coated recipes and hillbilly anecdotes from the Queen of Country. 

I have to admit, I've only tried one or two of the recipes. When I had my first big party at my East Village apartment, for the Autumn Equinox in 2007, I made Loretta's White Bean Dip and it was a big hit (the rosemary is what makes it). But the most intriguing--and in-your-face authentic--recipe in the book is Butcher Holler Possum.

"At night, Mommy would go out and set traps," Loretta writes. "She'd take one of the kids with her. Sometimes she took me, but most of the time she'd take the oldest boy--Junior, my eldest brother. They would go out with a light; one of them would track them dadgum animals down, and she'd set that trap. She usually got a possum or a rabbit or a coon every time we went out, so we'd have meat probably once a week."

"Possum is a different tasting meat than anything I've ever tasted. To me, it was kind of oily, greasy, but Daddy loved it. Mommy would have to cook it like three hours first, because it's tough. Then she'd take it out and put it in a pan. She'd peel the sweet potatoes, and she'd put 'em around the possum. And when the sweet potatoes was done, so was the possum. That's what Daddy loved."

BUTCHER HOLLER POSSUM

Makes 6 Servings

1 good-size possum

salt & pepper

1/2 cup breadcrumbs

1/2 cup applesauce

1/2 cup chopped chestnuts

1/2 stick butter, thinly sliced

4 sweet potatoes, cubed

or cut into 1/2-inch-thick pieces

1 cup water

1/2 cup lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 350F. Skin and clean the possum by removing all the innards. Scrape the inside clean and scald in boiling water. Season the inside with salt and pepper to taste. Mix the breadcrumbs, applesauce, and chestnuts in a bowl. Stuff the breadcrumb mixture and butter slices inside the possum. Place in a Dutch oven. Add the sweet potatoes, water, and lemon juice. Bake in the oven until tender, basting often.

Bon appetit! 

Love,

Glenn

Further food reading: My Anti-Recession Chic Thanksgiving Dinner Party

Alta Roma Alta Moda in Rome: La Dolce Vita-era haute couture, Gina Lollobrigida & Fidel Castro, Franca Sozzani & Vogue Italia, kooky Euro fashions, Roman cuisine, and a Mussolini fascist fashion dance party.

Dear Readers,

I was in Rome last week for the spring/summer 2010 couture and pret-a-porter collections. My full reports can be read at A Shaded View on Fashion:

Alta Roma Alta Moda, Part 1

Alta Roma Alta Moda, Part 2

Later,

Glenn Belverio

Legendary screen siren Gina Lollobrigida at the Fausto Sarli show. 

Photo: Glenn Belverio

The Mermaid Parade in Coney Island, June 20, 2009. Photos by Glenn Belverio

Dear Ethel Mermen & Maids,

Because it's been raining for forty days and forty nights in New York, a tinge of S.A.D.ness hung over the Mermaid Parade this year....but once the peppy punch of the marchers' prozac-and-beer milkshakes kicked in, the languor melted away and a festive mood triumphed.

The shroud-grey sky wasn't the only bummer mer-celebrants had to cope with: Days before the parade, a rezoning and development plan was approved for Coney Island by the City Planning Commission. The plan will allow developers to dismantle the old Astroland (sections of it have already been removed--the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel, however, are protected as historical landmarks), build some horrid, charm-less Disney-like amusement park, and create 4,500 new housing units. (Only 900 of them will be affordable to low-and-middle-income families. Considering the lack of well-to-do NY yuppies given the recession, maybe the luxe condos will be snapped up by Europeans who have grown weary of their summer view in the south of France??)

But the clouds did have a (tarnished) silver lining: After fears that it would be shuttered, Ruby's Bar & Grill was able to renegotiate their lease with Thor Equities--for how long, I'm not sure. Opened in the late '60s, Ruby's is my favorite bar in New York. The walls are adorned with photos of old Coney Island stretching back to at least the 1920's, and the jukebox pumps out classics from Elvis, Sinatra and Johnny Cash. (None of that weird hipstah music the kids listen to in other parts of Brooklyn). 

On the way to Coney, we were blessed to be on the same F train car as the Reverend Billy, pastor of the Church of Stop Shopping. (Did I just hear a gaggle of fashion victims' hearts skip a beat?) From his website: 

"Reverend Billy and the Life After Shopping Gospel Choir believe that Consumerism is overwhelming our lives. The corporations want us to have experiences only through their products. Our neighborhoods, 'commons' places like stoops and parks and streets and libraries, are disappearing into the corporatized world of big boxes and chain stores. But if we 'back away from the product' – even a little bit, well then we Put The Odd Back In God!" Hallelujah, Billy!

 

Before the parade starts, it is a Coney Island tradition to meet up at Ruby's for beer, hot dogs and all manner of deep-fried delights.

 

My Mermaid Day lunch at Ruby's: Not one, but two plates of juicy, jumbo raw clams, washed down with a pint of Ruby's Amber Ale. Sluuurrrpp! (I also managed to wolf down an excellent sausage, onions and peppers sandwich as well).

 

If someone ever decides to remake that car crash of a film known as Fassbinder's "Querelle," this handsome, young man will be the first in line for the lead. (A la Brad Davis, this stud's sexual preference was up for debate with me and my friends. Carole insisted he was straight; Corey cast the gay vote. The fact that his sidekick--the guy in the blue t-shirt--was a sexually ambiguous hipstah didn't help matters).

Following a heavy rain, the parade got off to a dry start with plenty of color to combat the gloom.

Whenever I attend the Mermaid Parade, I always think of the time I interviewed Manuel Cuevas in Nashville in 2006. The legendary designer, who has created costumes for Elvis Presley, Dolly Parton, the Stones et al, told me an amusing story about his now-departed pal Johnny Cash:

“Cash called me from a payphone on Sunset Boulevard and said, ‘Manuel, do you think it will happen again?’ His voice was half-hopeful, half-melancholy,” Manuel remembers. “And I said, ‘John, what are you talking about?’ And he said, ‘The titty parade! Do you think there’ll be another titty parade?’ I laughed and told him, ‘Well, I hope so and if there is, you better call me sooner next time!” (This was sometime during the Sexual Revolution—circa 1969—when liberated girls took to the streets and randomly flashed their breasts at policemen and other bystanders).

And speaking of Elvis....

No, this is NOT photographic evidence of the Ayatollah Khamenei rigging a voting booth in Iran--it's Zoltar, Coney Island's premiere prophet and used car salesman!

These ingenious gals dressed as roller coaster cars and sped and spun down the entire parade route.

Lobster Lady!

Is that mer-royalty approaching....?

It is! This year, actor Harvey Keitel was crowned King Neptune while actress Daphna Kastner was Queen Mermaid. (Sorry you can only see her arm in the photo!)

God save your mad parade....

"When is the fucking sun ever going to come out again?!?!"

Sexy bongo bearer!

"Nah, I didn't get paid much to be an extra in the "Eyes Wide Shut" orgy scene....but they let me keep the costume!!"

Ever since Henry Rollins stopped hitting the gym, he's begun to resemble Uncle Fester.

These clever craftsmen constructed a float out of some of the pieces from the dismantled Astroland. When God gives you lemons....

After the parade, everyone convened at Ruby's to escape the blistering cold outside....

My pal, the lesbian rock star Carole Pope, grabbed a bloody mary to prepare for her 2-hour bus ride to Asbury Park. Peaches was performing that night at the Stone Pony! From one iconic, time-worn party beach to another, all in one day....I can't keep up with Carole!

Corey and I left Ruby's so we could go take a spin on the Cyclone roller coaster (which I think is a UNESCO World Heritage Site at this point...?). On the way I discovered this customized bus which reminded me of the hippie-painted plane in Michelangelo Antonioni's counter-culture cult film, "Zabriskie Point."

No, this is not a beach in northern Scotland in early winter....it's still Coney Island in June.

Thanks for reading,

Glenn Belverio

Further reading: Coverage of the 2008 Mermaid Parade

3 days in beautiful Turin, Italy--the city of witches, commies and chocolatiers.

Above: The spire of the Mole Antonelliana--once a Jewish synagogue, now the National Museum of Cinema--peeks out over one of Turin's grand piazzas. The Mole is the tallest (and most surreal) museum in the world.

Dear sweet-toothed Satanic Socialists,

Last month, after my trip to Barcelona for 080 Fashion, I jumped on a pond-hopper and headed over to Turin to visit my friend Barbara. Elegant Turin, the capital of the northern province of Piedmont, is like a heady mix of Paris, Vienna and Rome--without Rome's chaotic traffic and parade of tourists. Besides being the former home of Fiat and the eternal home of Christ's alleged shroud, Turin is also the witchcraft capital of Italy: it's part of the black magic triangle shared by London and San Francisco, and the white triangle with Prague and Lyon, France. Nostradamus, history's most famous seer, lived here in 1556 and Dom Bosco, the mystic who, in 1883, prophesied the building of Brasilia, was from Turin. Legend has it that beneath the city is a vast network of tunnels and catacombs that Turin's witches, past and present, use for their secret activities.

Above: Two views from Barbara's apartment--wonderful ochre-colored 18th-century houses line the street. Barbara lives in a neighborhood that is populated by both aristocratic families and young left-wing activists. I'm not sure how well they all get along or what percentage of them are witches. (For the record, Barbara is basically in the left-wing camp....one of those modern Marxists whose bookshelf is crammed with books by both Candace Bushnell and Fidel Castro).

I love the elevator shaft in Barbara's building.

Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts or.....an exquisite 18th-century cafe with gorgeous Venetian chandeliers, fresco-painted ceilings, perfect coffee and artisanal desserts? Which do you prefer? (Then again, Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts are probably not owned by the Mafia).

Barbara and I outside Al Souri where we met her friends for apertivos and vino.

Me and Francesco

Apertivo e vino time at Al Souri

Later, we had an excellent dinner at Trattoria Ala, a traditional Tuscan trattoria. Among the many things I ate (including a plethora of apertivo platters which whizzed around the table with dizzying frequency) was this heaping plate of homemade tortellini al ragu. For dessert I had something that I can only describe as chocolate flan which I still dream about every night. It was an orgasm on a plate.

Dinner at Trattoria Ala. The woman in grey is my friend Elena. She was also one of the publicists on the 2004 trip to the Alps and brought up the story about how I was freaking out about the avalanche alert in a valley near Alagna. (It was HIGH that day!)

Antonello and Franceso

I was very amused by Antonello's many raucous anecdotes.

Above: Let Them Eat Shit. Haute-bourgeoise eatery, Ristorante del Cambio

Funny story (for those who missed the discussion on my FaceBook page): While we were having our traditional dinner at this very homey trattoria, a revolution-of-sorts was raging on the other side of town at a very swank, very expensive restaurant called Ristorante del Cambio, which has been open since 1757. On my first trip to Turin in 2004--a press trip to visit the nearby Italian Alps--Barbara, in her role as publicist, took me to dinner there. The meal was a whirlwind of top-tier champagne, foie gras, caviar, fritto misto which included several deep-fried, vital cow and antelope organs, and desserts the size of Marie Antoinette's bouffant. (I get nostalgic thinking about how I acquired my first case of gout there--because you know I adore the diseases of the upper classes). 

One of the unique details about the restaurant is its view of Turin's City Hall across the street (which you can see in the photo above). There is one seat in the restaurant--the "seat of power"--which affords the best view of the government building. During the 19th century, several of Turin's mayors would sit here during their term, whiling the day away with wine, fricasseed calf brains and idle conversation. If there was some kind of emergency, like a witch who needed to be burned at the stake or a peasant revolt, one of the mayor's pages would stick his head out the window and beckon the mayor back to his more official office. (On the night I dined there, the woman who was the head of the Winter Olympics committee was in the seat of power--of course).

So, on the recent night we were all having our cozy dinner at unpretentious Trattoria Ala, a group of masked anarchists burst into del Cambio during peak dinner time, armed with huge baskets. While screaming anti-rich slogans, the anarchists began flinging shit and bloody animal guts at the well-heeled diners. Yes, you read that right: Shit. And bloody animal organs. One can only imagine the chaos that must have ensued.

The next morning, Barbara's friends and I were poring over the front-page article in one of Turin's papers (which must go to press rather late, because the article was very thorough) and that's when I realized how anti-elitist Barbara's friends are. (Because, I realized, Turin's hip, left-leaning 30-somethings wouldn't normally be caught dead at el Cambio. And in this economic climate, it's just considered extremely gauche to dine there). As we read the article out loud one of Barbara's friends, who works in the restaurant industry, was laughing hysterically and mimicking the imagined reactions of the rich, Chanel-clad women who must have been dripping in (horse? human?) manure as tables laden with chateaubriand and status bags were overturned in the chaos. I joined in by rattling off a list of shit-stained designer outfits that were surely now being schlepped over to dry cleaners all over the city by hapless servants. The anarchist attack would have been a great scene in a film by Luis Bunuel--or John Waters.

Apparently Dante is now being revisited as a nazi? What will those wacky Italian anarchists think of next?

Al Bicerin is one of the most famous places in Turin as it has been serving up a delicious potion of chocolate and caffeine known as the Bicerin since 1763. Barbara dragged me out of bed early one morning so we could meet her father here over a round of Bicerins (I also had a sinfully decadent chocolate-and-hazelnut torte smothered in warm chocolate sauce, so you can imagine the chocolate rush I was on...worth getting dragged out of bed for). At the dawn of the 19th century, the building and interior were renovated and everything inside the cafe--the counter, the marble-topped tables, the wood paneling--are all intact and present in the space today. 

Barbara's father is a brilliant professor and luckily I was all hopped up on chocolate and caffeine because he subjected me to a battery of questions about Obama, Clint Eastwood (Italian intellectuals think Eastwood is a closet leftist. Ditto for Bruce Springsteen), my work as a gonzo journalist (he rattled off a list of all the important works of gonzo, from Hunter S. Thompson to Tom Wolfe), and the oeuvre of Antonioni. 

Behold, a quartet of Bicerins. The recipe to this irresistible concoction has been carefully guarded for centuries. It's a hot mix of espresso, chocolate (the exact nature of the chocolate is part of the carefully guarded secret) and fresh cream which are all layered, and not mixed, in a tall glass (even though "bicerin" technically means "small glass") . If I could, I would bathe in it daily. Legend has it that the drink was invented at Al Bicerin but detractors claim it surfaced earlier, in 1704, at Caffe Fioro, which still stands on the Via Po. (I believe I had my first Bicerin there in 2004 because Al Bicerin was closed on the day of my visit).

After our meeting with Barbara's dad, Barbara's boyfriend, Francesco, picked us up and we all rode over to a rooftop barbeque. Here you can see how close the Italian Alps are to Turin.

Me on the roof enjoying my first cup of Piedmontese red wine--the first of many. We all had to write our names on the plastic cups with a magic marker to avoid confusion (easy to become confused when you're drinking red wine in the Italian afternoon sun!) and I wrote "GAY WOODY ALLEN" on mine. That was the nickname Barbara gave me when we went on the press trip to the Italian Alps in 2004 because she thinks I'm neurotic. A ski trip had been planned and we all went to a ski shop to select our skis--except for me. I nervously wandered around the shop muttering to myself, "I don't want to die like Sonny Bono" and Barbara was like, "Glenn, are you okay? You look very pale!" 

Then we rode to the tippy-top of Monte Rosa, the tallest mountain in the Italian Alps, and I must have looked scared because everyone was laughing at me. Later at the ski lodge atop the mountain, where I was extremely light-headed from the altitude, I had a cup of warm red wine and you can just imagine. Barbara and the rest of the PR team placed me in a coffin and slid me down the mountain. Inexplicably, I woke up several hours later, wearing nothing but a small Frette towel, in the steam room at the Blue Sauna Club.

A view of the Mole from the rooftop barbeque. 

A mini-scandal broke out during the BBQ when everyone began realizing that there was an Iranian and an American at the party. Time for a peace summit! The Iranian woman, Bita, was dragged over to me and suddenly we were surrounded by cameras, including a TV camera (I think someone was making a Godard-esque documentary about the BBQ). We embraced in full view of the cameras to show that there were no hard feelings between our countries (someone should send the footage to Obama so he can see that I'm doing my part for diplomacy). I opined that I thought it was arrogant of the US to tell Iran that they weren't allowed to have a nuclear bomb, but Bita said she thinks her president is just too crazy to get his hands on something like that. The debate didn't go much further due to language barriers. (Will someone please buy me the Rosetta Stone for Italian? I can't afford it).

Barbara and Elisa

The food served at the BBQ was super-yummy: barbequed spare ribs and sausages, bruschetta (nothing like a fresh tomato grown in Italy), grilled eggplant and luscious tiramisu. For some reason, both Barbara and I both forgot to take pictures of the food. I guess we were too busy eating it!

On my third day in Turin I wandered around the city to enjoy the lovely weather and admire the city's beautiful facades. But it wasn't just a day of idle flaneur-ing....I was on a mission: To visit Turin's "dark heart," the focal point of the city's black magic energy.

Turin's so-called "dark heart" is located here, in the Piazza Statuto. At the end of the square is this rather bizarre monument.

The monument, which features a dark angel hovering over men trying to climb to the top, is a memorial to the workers who died building the Frejus Train Tunnel, a tunnel that linked Italy to France by rail. But many denizens of Turin believe the monument also represents something else....something more sinister.

The five-pointed star, a pentagram, on the angel's head is considered a clue that the angel is actually Lucifer himself. A rather beautiful Lucifer, I might add.

The Piazza Statuto has a dark past. The Roman and Medieval-era gallows were located just a few yards beyond the square and the ground beneath the monument is a millenniums-old necropolis. The Romans adhered to the Egyptian philosophy that the west, where the sun sets, is the most appropriate place to bury the dead. Many residents of Turin maintain that a sewer manhole cover near the monument (which I think I found, but there were a few) is actually the entrance to the Gates of Hell. Considering all the evil energy that is said to exist here, there were many Turin residents relaxing during their lunch hour on park benches in the piazza. I rested there for a few minutes and didn't feel uneasy--but then again, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Lucifer.

However, if I had known, I would have visited the "light heart" or positive energy spot of Turin to balance things out. During a night drive, Barbara's boyfriend, Francesco, pointed the spot out to me: a gate entrance in the Piazza Castello, where the Shroud of Turin is publicly displayed. It's said that if one stands between the stone walls of the entrance, they receive a jolt of positive white magic energy. I wonder if the kick is as strong as the one I got from drinking a Bicerin...

My next stop was the Piazza CLN (Comitato di Liberazione Nazionale). This was actually my third time visiting this piazza, but on previous visits, it was always under partial construction. The piazza is famous for the two fountains and statues (whose feet point at each other) that represent Turin's two rivers: the Po and the Dora. The male statue (above) is Po.

And here is Dora. If you're a fan of Dario Argento's 1975 giallo film "Profondo Rosso" ("Deep Red"), you'll recognize the piazza as one of the film's more distinctive locations. (The entire film was shot in Turin). This is the piazza where David Hemmings' character witnesses the murder of a Swedish psychic in an apartment overlooking the square, to the left of the Po statue. A few yards back from that spot is where Argento erected a '40s America-style diner/bar based on the Edward Hopper painting "Nighthawks." Because Argento used this location as one of his most famous sets, Piazza CLN is often referred to as the "Piazza Profondo Rosso" by Turin residents.

A day without running into Perseus holding Medusa's head is like a day without sunshine....

These gnarly trees had a bit of a witchy vibe.

So on my last night in Turin, Barbara announced that we would be having dinner at a "clubhouse" where she and her friends went on most Monday nights. I can't remember what she said exactly that made me respond (jokingly): "Haha, sounds like a COMMUNIST clubhouse to me!" and "Will we be having dinner with the anarchists who stormed del Cambio the other night?" Barbara was all like, "No, no, no! It's not at all communist! It's just a laid-back place that we all like to go to." I believed her until we arrived at said clubhouse and contrary evidence immediately began rearing its red head....

Exhibit A: I think this speaks for itself, yeah?

Exhibit B: Agitprop poster with a quote from Karl Marx

Exhibit C: Painting depicting Marxist-Leninist rebels engaged in battle

Exhibit D (my favorite example): Even the wine was Communist! Check out the Workers Unite! style logo on the label. Needless to say, this wine was terrible. (We switched to something more palatable). I can't remember what I had--I think it was a northern-style pasta dish, some thin slices of deliberately fatty pork on slices of toasted bread and a big salad--but the food was quite good.

When I spotted this photo on the wall, I exclaimed, "I'm a big Elvis Presley fan!" and everyone stopped, stared at me, and then laughed for several long minutes. No, this is not Elvis--it's someone named Fabrizio De Andre, a singer, songwriter and revered intellectual (and a Communist, no doubt). A recent exhibition in Genova, where the singer was from, celebrated his life and work.

And OF COURSE Satan herself made an appearance at the Communist Clubhouse....Ronald Reagan and Jesse Helms must have been spinning in their graves that night!

On the drive home. Francesco took me to see this metal sculpture which was designed by my favorite architect of all time, Oscar Niemeyer . However, I'm not finding any information about it on the web. Does anyone know more about this piece? Behind the sculpture, one can see the old Roman walls and gate of the city.

I was really spooked out when I walked over to get a picture of the Roman walls. I heard strange noises coming from the other side of the gate and, fearing that I would be the next victim of a Satanic sacrifice, I high-tailed it back to Francesco's car.

Our final stop was a very sinister-looking apartment building that is adorned with dozens of dragon statuary and other wicked details like bronze salamander door handles. Sorry my photos aren't better, my flash was not doing a good job of capturing the dragon details. I totally want to live in this building!

I hope you enjoyed my bloggy tour of Turin--there is really so much more to see but I had to leave on the 4th day for Seoul. (Barbara was a fantastic host, btw!) Thanks for reading!

Ciao,

Glenn Belverio

Barcelona, March 2009

Dear fellow flaneurs & flaneuses,

I found some extra photos from my recent trip to Barcelona that I wanted to share with you.

Writers Carole Pope and Mark Simpson 

Clams and white bean soup in Barceloneta

Monsters from the deep

Coming up: HIghlights from my trip to Turin.

Later,

Glenn

Seoul Fashion Week Fall/Winter 2009

Dear Fashion Fans,

My coverage of Seoul Fashion Week is up on A Shaded View on Fashion:

Seoul Fashion Week, Part 1

Seoul Fashion Week, Part 2

Later,

Glenn

Fashion Rio Fall/Winter 2009 in Rio de Janeiro

 

Dear Fashion Fanatics,

My Fashion Rio reports are up on A Shaded View on Fashion, links below:

Fashion Rio, Part 1

Fashion Rio, Part 2

Fashion Rio, Part 3

Later,

Glenn Belverio

 
When my friend Corey Sabourin (who is now in Seattle) saw this photo from the Redley show, he remarked: "I love the runway in the jungle pics. It's just like the scenes in "CHE" where the rebels are marching single file." I can't believe I didn't think of that! J'Adore Che.

Christmas at the White House Party at the home of Glenn Belverio, December 13, 2008

 
Above: "Hope for the Holidays": An Obama finger puppet tops my tree but is slightly upstaged by John Toth's "Dianne Brill Goes to the White House" piece.

Dear holiday hellraisers,

Since this is probably the first time in eight years that we Americans don't have to feel embarrassed about being American (for the time being, at least) I chose a "Christmas at the White House" theme for my holiday party this year. A week before the party, I invited some friends over to help decorate my tree and was very impressed by their politcally themed contributions.

 
Above: Knitwear designer Tom Scott devised these genius First Lady decorations, while Corey made the Sarah Palin ornament ("I can see Santa and the entire North Pole from here!"). Priya and her husband Ab brought the Obama air freshener (off to the left of Jackie) which was very controversial because it smelled like vanilla! I think it was from the Ralph Nader line of political Christmas ornaments. Sylvia Heisel and her husband Scott made the Obama and Bush fortune garlands. One of the fortunes chosen for Bush reads: "A person is never too old to learn." Also, "Don't ever slam a door; you might want to go back." Good luck with that, hon.

 
More Tom Scott creations: Pat Nixon and, of course. Nancy Reagan.

 
Betty Ford always brings a prophetic vibe to any booze-soaked soiree.

 
Christine Martin and Ben Stock adorned themselves in festively colored duchess satins.

 
The always fab Carole Pope. Carole just finished work on her role in an upcoming vampire film that also stars Iggy Pop, Michael Stipe, Alice Cooper (!), Henry Rollins, and Moby. Sounds like the hippest vampire film since "The Hunger"!

 
Because it just wouldn't be a White House/fin-de-siecle Christmas party without an Obama gingerbread cookie (baked by Corey Sabourin). From left: Nancy Stout, Jill Smith, and Thomas Onorato.

 
Artist Mathias Kessler and Karina Daskalov of Marian Goodman Gallery

 
Angela Gaimari and Christopher Voigt. I'm still stepping on the bits of broken glass from the champagne flute that Angela smashed onto my floor. Thanks, doll!

 
A bevy of bearded men! Mathias and Demetre Daskalakis. Demetre is currently one of the featured "Do-Gooders" in PAPER magazine as recognition for his admirable work with the Men's Sexual Health Project.

 
Graphic designer Michelle Gorman

 
Thomas, Jll and Tim McKlusky hanging out in my bedroom discussing the state of fashion, makeup and politics.

 
Keepers of the subcultural and fashion flames, Patrick Lehman and Adrian Milton. It was great to catch up with the boys after not seeing them for ages.

 
Of course legendary & international DJ sensation Larry Tee was at my party--he'll go to the opening of a toilet!

  
Writer Christopher Anthony Stoddard and artist Scott Neary.

Above: Of course I screened Jackie Kennedy's Tour of the White House, which first aired in 1962, during the party.

 
Me working some (borrowed) anti-recession chic in Sylvia Heisel's mink coat.

 
Everyone wanted to try on Sylvia's mink!

 
Invisible mistletoe! Fashion writer Joselle Yokogawa and her boyfriend Crazy Legs of Rocksteady Crew.

 
Graphic designers Michelle Leung and Minori Kuroishi

 
Yuli Ziv of the fashion site My It Things 

   
Minh and Mary Poon shared laughs with Christine into the wee hours of the morning.

 
Joselle and Legs analyze Veruschka's breakdance moves in my Blow-Up poster.

 
Oops! Joselle spilled red wine all over Legs' sweater (I think it was cashmere). He was like, "Oh, I'll just throw it away, it's just cashmere." I concurred. "The one on the floor is vicuna," I said pointing to a sweater lying by my closet. (That was my token "Boys in the Band" reference that only Bruce LaBruce will get, I'm sure). 

 
Other guests arrived just in time for the floor show, which as you can see is on the floor.

 
Joselle hides her discomfort as fashion writer Cator Sparks debases the Obama cookie with a lewd gesture, as Abe Lincoln looks on with a poker face. Blasphemy or the shape of things to come?

 
Christine and Minh staged a vogueing contest in my Bill Ayers/Mao Room. Fierce!

 
Mary and knitwear designer Tom Scott discuss the global cashmere crisis in the Bill Ayers Smoking Lounge.

Thanks for visiting!

Love,

Glenn Belverio