There was so much work I did that I was proud of this year, including but not limited to launching Miss Manhattan Hangs Out, which taught and continues to teach me how exciting and beautiful people are, whether you are watching them perform standup comedy in a park, rehearse on a piano, or play with their dogs.
I was excited to write for several dream publications like Vogue, Vanity Fair, Town & Country, and Billboard (one of which resulted in a tweet from RuPaul) as well as become a contributing writer at Cools; the Copy Editor and Staff Writer at Treats!; Copy Editor at The Unseasonal; to continue to work on stories I'm proud of for Vice like those I did on Peche Di, Joel Kim Booster, Cole Escola, Village Grannies, and Brooklyn Drag. I was also ecstatic to write a story about airline La Compagnie for Men's Journal, which took me to Paris; to photograph the LGBTQ Anti-Prom at the New York Public Library for Racked, which taught me that the kids will be alright; interview legendary documentary director Errol Morris for Tablet; and write a story that took me to Green-Wood Cemetery for The Village Voice's print edition before it went fully digital.
I also appeared on my first radio show, Young Person's Radio with Colby Smith, on Radio Free Brooklyn; hosted a panel at the Miami Book Fair and attended their gorgeous after-party at The Standard Hotel in Miami; spoke to undergraduates at my university about careers in the humanities; was invited by a gallery to a dinner with its artists; and attended a cocktail party where I talked to Ted Allen for 20 minutes without fangirling.
If You Want to Destroy My Sweater...
SE and I went to see a Weezer cover band called The Sweater Songs at Mercury Lounge. Originally, we thought it would just be a kitschy, weird time, and it definitely was, but the band was also incredible and totally rockin' (especially their bassist Oscar Rodriguez, who we both later decided we had a crush on). Everyone got a free pair of Rivers Cuomo-style glasses, too.
I've loved Elliott Erwitt's photography since I first saw it in college, especially the way he found the humor in everything (which I think makes his work even more beautiful). A photographer with legendary agency Magnum, he was in attendance at the opening of the International Center of Photography's Magnum exhibition earlier last year. So was I. I went over to him to say hello and say thank you so much for his work. He said, "Okay." We took a selfie, which seems grotesque to ask of a photographer of his caliber, but...it is what it is.
The week of SD's bachelorette party, we decided to go get manicures--nail art, specifically. But the place we decided to go had an hour-long wait. The next place had no appointments available...nor did the next, or the next or the next. We Googled venues in our phones to see if there was someplace we could go, eventually just wandering all the way up from Canal Street to 14th Street in hopes of stumbling on one. We never found anything, but we laughed the whole way and settled instead to have a glass of wine at Feast, followed by ramen burgers at Yonekichi in the East Village, and dessert tapas at Spot on St. Marks Place. Things didn't go exactly as we planned, but it was one of those nights I'm happy to have shared with her before her big day. She got married in October in a beautiful wedding in Pennsylvania, and I wish her and her husband a lifetime of happiness.
SpatchcockFor some reason in the ferocious summer heat, SJT and I decided to cook. And not just cook, but spatchcock a chicken, roasting it in his apartment that had only a small fan in the kitchen. We were sweating while salting and spicing, and SJT taught me how to chiffonade herbs. While the chicken roasted, we sat in his heavily air-conditioned bedroom with SE and L sipping Georgian wine. He did a marvelous job seasoning the chicken, and it was juicy and wonderful. After dinner, we all went back to his room to eat rice pudding and jam. Spending time with friends is one thing, but cooking with them is somehow even better.
DiscoverHERE is a program developed by theatre artist Nate Bertone, who I had the pleasure of meeting this past summer. I instantly liked his genuine nature, his kindness, his belief in his work. DiscoverHERE is meant to remind what it means to be "here," to remember the present. I attended a version of one of these events at the beginning of fall, just cold enough to wear a jacket and wrap it tightly around you as it gets colder. I listened to people share about their lives with honesty and vulnerability I don't know that I've seen before or since, and I even shared something of myself. I listened more at first--I didn't know if I wanted to share, if I trusted the people sitting in a circle around me, but the more they talked, the more I understood they were coming from a genuine place, so I could too. While Nate is traveling for work for a while, the program had been run in Lululemon's Chelsea space and I hope will continue once he comes back. It takes a lot to make a person, let alone a New Yorker, feel comfortable in a group of strangers, but somehow Nate and co. have developed the formula to be able to do it.
Bushwig, the independent Brooklyn drag festival hosted by Horrorchata, just completed its fifth year and despite my love of all things drag, I only attended for the first time this year while working on the aforementioned article. It was a weekend of extraordinary indoor and outdoor performances with a punk rock sensibility, massive heels, impossibly high wigs, glitter on top of glitter on top of glitter and gender-bending gorgeousness I will not soon forget...and I will definitely be back next year.
"Bougie, but nice"
Mag, AR, M, and I left a gallery opening crowded with people in search of hamburgers. But not just any hamburgers, ones that were like, you know, a little more interesting. Ones that, I made the mistake of saying, were "bougie. but nice." I meant "bougie. but cheap," because none of us felt like paying our rent for an interesting hamburger. But just like a strange cheese, maybe a weird bread, some unusual mustard...you know the deal. So we wandered over to Whitmans in the East Village for our inexpensive treats, and I do not remember a second where we weren't laughing, telling jokes and weird stories, then hopping down to another restaurant for wine and tiramisu. It was cold out, but the company was warm.
Lobster on a Budget
I've written before about this thing that HanOre and I do called a high-low evening, where we do something like go eat borscht then have a fancy cocktail. But then I spotted $14 lobsters at Fairway. I texted her a picture of these mythical creatures and suggested our next evening was in order. Her home would be the venue, with pan-roasted cauliflower, sushi, Cabernet Sauvignon, Prosecco, and Frank Sinatra. We cracked our lobsters and dipped their innards in butter, later cracking open New York magazine's 50th Anniversary book and dipping our fingers into a black and white cookie from Agata & Valentina. We may have outdone ourselves.
The Pink Spiders
Back when I was a young aspiring punk who occasionally shopped at Hot Topic (oh man, I can't believe I just started a sentence that way), my favorite band was a band called The Pink Spiders. They were like if the Ramones and the early Beatles had a love child that was raised in Nashville, and I loved them. I physically own every CD (yes, CD!) every album they ever made, and I know all of their songs by heart. But I only had the opportunity to see them one time, many moons ago in college, and I accidentally only saw part of their set because they started earlier than I thought. But this time, after years apart, they had gotten back together--or rather, the lead singer reassembled the band with new members--and they would be playing in Brooklyn. So I topped all of my pleases with whipped cream and a cherry on top for SE to please come with me to this show late on a "school night" and he did. And it was amazing. There are so few concerts I go to where I know every word to every song a band plays, but I did that night (except for their two new ones) and I shook and shook and shook my body to the shredding of their guitars, the beating of their drums in a way that the me of 15 years ago always wanted to.