"the" Mrs. Astor: March 2005

This is the view out the front door of The Palace; it is something not quite anything I have ever worked at. The owners are great, the employees better, and the customer base unlike that which anyone could hope for. Again, it is Paradise.

It seems most of Brooklyn was here in Miami this past weekend; all these guys were here for Spring Break.

Carlos and Pedro were "just good friends", but they never stopped kissing each other.

The "Dress Code" where I grew up was so very, very different.

Ryan, from Brooklyn seemed to have made many fans that day.

An Evening with The "Lady" Bunny could only begin with an intimate discussion about her outfit. It was futuristic and at the same time comforting; it brought to our faces a smell of something familiar and yet foul. She was a nightmare brought to cuddle us. She made everyone laugh. She is a goddess. She is a pig. She is us.

Some call it raunchy, some call it nasty, but most call it the most entertaining act in the fucking world. It is The Lady Bunny, and she doesn't let anyone escape from the sight of her gun. Republicans, the Religious Right, and--yes--even PETA are fodder for Bunny.

Where DID Bunny get that Barbarella outfit?

Bunny's rendition of "Don't Let Your SON Go Down on Me" brought tears to my eyes.

Ebony brought back memories of Grace Jones on Sunday. I remember when Jones came out on a motocycle at 15 Landsdowne Street with two leather boys back in 1889.

Miss Ebony performed The Sacred Lap Dance for fashion designer, Alfredo Avila.

...and, of course, there is always Andres, the cutest bartender on the Earth!

At 11:00 in the morning I was having breakfast with a client at The Palace when we both looked at each other and said, "Do you see what I see?" We both whipped out our identical cameras (Sony 7.2 Cybershots) and captured this. The amazing thing to me was that there was no advertising here, no flyers being passed out; he had got up today to ride around town like this.....

...shouting, "He has risen; He has risen." This town in crazy!

Bunny, being Easter and all, decided to make Lamb Chop his bitch. There was not much any of us could say in a situation like this; Lamb Chop seemed to like it (as most of us do).

Finally, Bunny decided to eat Lamb Chop out It was just one of those crazy afternoons.

There was this night; we both tried to make it over the street to The Roxy. Traffic was a nightmare; our drink tickets were waiting. Well, one of us made it across the street to The Roxy, and one of us didn't. Fortunately, for me, Brandywine was hosting the party in the VIP room. She never liked rats.

OK, OK, I know I complained about having Easter dinner outside, but it turned out fine. I made a white bean, Polish sausage, and collard greens soup, and Terry made stuffed potatoes, green bean casserole, and (of course) baked ham. We didn't have dessert because we are all on a diet; but we did have extra red wine. But THAT'S healthy; don't you know that?

I'm so tired from Conference Week, that I almost can't type. Oh, I can still do a lot of other things that don't involve my fingers. Before I start another evening (we are having Easter Dinner tonight outside even though it was 92 today.), I want to post a photo of my favorite Bulgarian in the whole, wide world: Boris of the Palace staff. Although (unfortunately) straight, he is the most gay friendly man I have ever met. A gem.

Edison Farrow, the master of Friday nights on Miami Beach with his party at Jade, and Daisy D, a local celebrity in her own right who actually has a weekly TV spot of--of ALL stations--FOX. That shows you how crazy this town is!

At Jade last night. I didn't catch her name, but she was stunning.

This was exactly the type of Cold War situation my parents warned me of. Some Balkan state gets their hands on something of value, and the next thing you know everyone is fighting each other.

Things just sort of got out of control. Now, I don't know who would be in quite control of a situation like this, but I would like to be the Henry Kissinger of a nuclear nightmare like this. Edison Farrow's "Jade" on Friday night. More photos coming, but I'm tired.

....and, I have to end with saying happy birthday to Dennis' boyfriend on the right. (For the life of me, I can't remember his name.) But, I''ve known Dennis for a long time; so my congrats go out to the two of youl.

The photo that would not blog, but described below.

The great photographer of New York nightlife, Tina Paul, capturing me fixing the "bustle" of Angel Jack at The Roxy. In my day, a bustle was placed a bit more lower on the torso; but who am I to judge progress. if you want to visit something really "fierce", to to http://www.fifibear.com/2ndindex.html

Tina Paul

My hero.

I met Tina in April of 1989 at Mars Nightclub in New York. There had not been a more serious grovel to sensuality since Studio 54, and we were the only two "photogs" allowed into the place. Of course, we both knew all the personalities already: Lahoma van Zandt, the Lady Bunny, Larry Tee, RuPaul, Leigh Bowery, The It Twins, Goldilocks, James St. James, a budding Amanda LePore, Perfidia (perhaps one of the greatest DJ's of the period), Keoki, Alig, and on, and on. Along with Tina, I feasted on the photographic delights of these creatures of the night. Tina was my mentor; she had a determination, a sense of what was perfect for the moment, and winning personality, and humility. I adored being able to accompany her at every event; we became inseparable. Her girlfriend, the Lady Arhlene, stood in the background and made sure there were no problems. Also, she served a great dinner party. There was, and is, only ever one word which summed up Tina Paul and it was FIERCE.

After an accident, I fell out of touch with many of my friends, but worked (with the help of my dear, friend Mr. PageSixSixSix) in the last six months to stop attending my own wake and enjoy life again. Meeting Tina, again, reaffirmed my belief that I made the right decision in "coming out" back into society.

We should all look so good at 31. Happy birthday, Jonah.

Before we began another night of Winter Music Conference, we attended Jonah's birthday party. He was freaked out about turning 31.

God Almighty, I ran into Tina Paul and her long-time girlfriend, Arlene during Music conference tonight. Tina and I started out as youngsters in NYC with cameras in our hands crawling through the tunnels and gutters of NYC in search of amusement and memories. These two gals have supported each other through the years in ways that most people would be so enviable of. We went through club openings, club murders, and club closings without ever being anything but entertained and, at the same time, collecting history on film. Tina is probably the most important historian of New York club life in modern times. Arlene is the support to that, a charming woman, and a great hostess. I'm glad you two are visiting for two weeks. You will add to my life for that period.

Out with great friends tonight: Douglas and Henry (owners of The Palace) and the ever-dreaded, Carl (owner of the Wire and possible publisher of embarrassing photos of me).

Like so many moments of my day, I walked out of the house without great fanfare (i.e. a loud announcement) and found the sister and husband of my housemate, Terry being BAD in the pool. Being in love with your mate for life is so wonderful, as well is the fact that I ALWAYS have a camera in my pocket.

Artist, friend J.D. was looking not unlike a young version of Margaret Thatcher tonight. Of course, this was a MT quite more fashionable than the Vulcan of the Falklands. If politicians focused more on fashion and fascism so many would not die for nothing..

I invited my friend, Michael, to a quiet evening at Score. It was Latin Night, so quiet is a very relative phrase; I promised a quiet, fun night of salsa music and foreskin. I, of course, had to depart early and only hope what I promised came to being. Otherwise, my reputation may begin to suffer.

Golden Blonde lead the first Quadrille of the evening.

The beautiful Claudia lent her talents to engage the crowd in the excitement of the night.

...she did know how to move.

We remember dear Chris being nearly devoured by Lady Bunny last night at Crobar in her interpretation of "Sweet Boy Being Eaten by Glamourous Croccodile on the Nile" (a long lost opera by Bizet).

Chris proved that he had survived the bayonets in the basement of the Russian house he had been sent to last night. Such the Anastasia.

The crowd at the door to Crobar was rather frightening, but Bunny, me, and her entourage barged up to the ropes and she screamed, "I'm Mykul Stevens' drug dealer. Let me in." There was an audible silence and Mykul looked up, everyone gasped, and Bunny said, "Oh, was I too loud?" God bless the Queen Mum.

We used to call it in New York, "The Chin Mannouver" which was like the "Mancurian Candidate" without the drama.

Like Lucia di Lammermoor, Bunny could add drama to any moment.

They WERE fierce, but I think the candle threw off my infrared.

Chris and his friends were such happy couples. I love to see boys confident and happy with each other. It brings back memories.

...but, the threat of glamour can always ruin a relationship.

There's an awful amount of drama going on in this town. There's the Spring Breakers strutting around wearing next to nothing and The Winter Music Conference starts tonight at Crobar with Frankie Knuckles and, my old friend, Larry Tee leading the pack. "Madness reigns" is an understatement. (Although, I'd give the guy another chance to do me right before stabbing him with that nasty dagger.)