What's Next?

You all know I am an avid arbiter of positive writing, but I simply must explain the debacle of an evening last night that was the Next Awards.

The awards are an annual event (this being the second) held at Cro Bar and the awards presented are for odd ball things like "Best Plastic Surgery", "Biggest Media Whore", etc.

I was looking forward to it and got all dolled up as did my roommate's and neighbor, 'up for anything good times gal’, Lucy.

First off we waited 45 minutes in line to get in. We were VIP and the normal line got in before us! Apparently they were doing 'Red Carpet' pictures so that is why it took longer.

Once we entered the ‘pots and pans’ music was banging and I instantly felt like it was midnight. We swerved about until we got upstairs to the VIP lounge. The bar downstairs was empty but the line at the VIP bar was a mile long. It certainly didn’t pay to be VIP this evening. Then we were appalled to find sushi platters lurking in dark corners all around. Mmmm... warm sushi at a club! Nothin' tastes better.

We headed back downstairs and ran into our favorite Trace editor, Darren Kinoshta and his hot new BF, Monsieur Moustache. While chatting with Steven Knoll and Shania Rendzvous we saw a small explosion at a nearby table. Turns out girlfriend’s hair done gone up in flames. Luckily it was just some real girls pony tail and not some trannies expensive lace front. That would have been just tragic but it turned out to be the highlight of the night.

So with the smell of burning hair seeping through the crowd, Lucy and I head towards the dance floor to find *Harry* and Daniel Nardicio. Harry looked AMAZING! The hair, makeup and dress were a total A+. She was sun kissed and fresh from St. Martin so her glow was divine.

We were all getting really excited about the event. Word on the street was that Wendy Williams was to host and everyone was in a tizzy. The performers started pouring in and we were all eager to see a real top drawer performance.
Don’t hold your breath.

The opening was pretty amusing; with all the girls singing ‘Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend’. Rainblo looked smashing in a platinum wig, Dirty Martini shimmied about with Murray Hill and Shania did a full split at the finale. Peppermint Gummybear ended the song prancing on stage and giving RuPaul circa 1994 in a huge black lace ruffled cape and honey blond tight curled wig.

She ended up hosting with no mention of Wendy. Luckily she had enough wigs and wit to do a fantastic job.

The presentations were weak and half the people honored were not even there to accept the prizes. LAME. They even announced Keith Michael as a presenter and he was nowhere to be found. I love Kevin Aviance but I couldn’t understand a word he said when accepting his award. I think I heard ‘sister’ and ‘children’ a couple of times.

The oddest part was when they gave an award to their own EIC. But by that time half the crowd had left and nobody was really paying attention anyways. The only perk to VIP was the free booze all night long so we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in the end and caught up with some long lost gays.

I've always been a huge Next fan, so please boys, keep to the gossip and club calendar and stay away from the awards or you will end up getting nominated for one thing, a lemon.

Noah's Ark

Last night my friend Brendon re-launched his menswear line, Noah, with a VIP evening sail for friends and family.
Edina and I skipped out of work at 5PM, dressed in nautical nats natch, and headed to Vessey and the West Side Highway to board.

We arrived at Shear Water; an 80-foot sailboat built in 1928 and was greeted by the crew who helped us aboard.
We of course were the first to arrive, this being a party for hipsters, but everyone trickled in shortly thereafter and drinks began to flow.

The winning outfit went to Brendon's new wife, who was sporting a white drop waisted trench dress that was to die for. She was wearing Brandon's first piece of womenswear! He made it Wednesday night. Of course her glowing Norwegian hair and skin were the perfect accessories. John from Ernest Sewn gave a swarthy effort in the sailing theme with cut off jeans and neckerchief. The rest of the bunch was dressed for a night on Ludlow Street, black skinny jeans, flouncy tops and huge sunglasses. Quite a motley, albeit, fun crowd!

We motored out to the Statue of Liberty and there we hoisted the sails and took off. I haven't been sailing in the harbor for quite some time and it is always a glorious experience to see the city as it should be seen, from the water. Everyone knows my favorite (well, one of them) quote from Vreeland, "Water is God's tranquilizer!"

We got sauced on Stormy Weather's, met new friends, waved at cruise ships and took in the sights of Ellis Island (and too many people asked what that old building was- oh hipsters!)

I could of been out on the sea for hours but we sailed back into port around 7 and headed to Nom de Guerre in Soho to view the collection with the rest of the press people. The collection is well tailored, masculine and classic. Bravo Brendon!

My favorite part was his hangtags, which read:
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
It’s always ourselves we find in the sea.

If one is interested in hiring Shear Water please check out www.shearwatersailing.com

The Slaughter Wedding Showdown

I know this is very late onto the blog, but Uncle Cator has been a busy boy.
Over Memorial Day Weekend one of my nearest and dearest girls got hitched in sumptuous style way down in West Virginia.
Sharon Slaughter and I have been giggle partners for 10 years and I always knew her wedding would be THE wedding.
Why, you may ask?
How about because she was the Art Director at Martha Stewart Weddings for many years. Hot-cha!

She broke the news in the fall when her then boyfriend, English lad Francis, proposed to her in Arizona. What really won her over was the HUGE diamond ring he presented her. I’m talking about Cracker Jack's size big. Actually, it was Cracker Jack's. After slipping it on her finger he said that with her style savvy, there was no way he could pick out the perfect ring, so he was leaving that up to her. Now that’s a man who knows how to handle a chic Slaughter!

The momentous event occurred after a flurry of uber-designed invitations poured into 202 West 122. Cocktail parties, Barbeques, Receptions, and oh yes, the Wedding. Sharon created each one to perfection and oh the paper stock!

As usual plane delays left the NYC set late for the first nights fests. We were driven directly to Sharon's family home and dove into the Kentucky Bourbon and pork while prowling the Slaughter homestead for incriminating pictures from Shay's youth. That wasn’t very hard.

Her parents were lovely hosts and we all had a fine time getting into party mode.
That evening I checked into the Martha Washington Inn, which was a little slice of Southern Heaven. Built in 1832, this Blue Ridge delight was riddled with creaky floors, crystal chandeliers and, my favorite, Zuber wallpaper!

Rick came in from Atlanta at 3 am and we woke up and had a grit fest in the AM before heading out to a Boat Social on the lake with the wedding party. West Virginia is just top drawer! The mountains, foliage, horses and of course the accent.

The afternoon was spent baking at the pool and catching up with friends from ATL and NYC. Once we were thoroughly cooked we dressed for the Bluegrass BBQ held on the grounds of a private club in a 200-year-old restored barn.

PERFECTION people!
We arrived to a sun setting and a Blue Grass trio diddling away while the bar staff poured vats of Tennessee tea.
Sharon's stories about the decor reminded me of that Saturday Night Live skit with Victoria Jackson where she makes her boyfriend binoculars and gold watches while on a deserted island.
"I love those garlands Shay, where did you find them?"
"Oh well, you see there is this old man in Mexico who makes these all by hand and cuts each one out and then strings them together."
"What a great piñata, Shay!"
"Thanks! I had it made by this piñata maker who crafts each one by hand and glues each piece of tissue on separately"

Where she finds these people, I will never know, but the results were spot on.
We all got tanked on bourbon, ate our weight in fried chicken and 'Texas Caviar', which is beans and nacho chips, then danced the night away to home grown music that took us all to another era.

Once the caravan unloaded back at the Inn we took over the balcony and rocking chairs and had our own house party until the wee hours. MaDora and I were so twiterpated by the end of the night that we decided to take a tour of the Inn at 2am. We found the office and stole a roll of packing tape and decided that it would be hysterical to tape someone into their room. So we taped room 78 to death from doorknob to floorboard and then ran away screaming. Oh Bourbon.

The next morning at breakfast we were dying to find out how our friends got out of their door. When asked, they curiously said there was not a problem in room 79. We taped the wrong door. The poor people who had to untangle themselves from our liquor induced web were great sports about it. Thankfully!

We pooled it for the day and then dressed for the 4PM wedding.
The Wedding was beautiful and Shay looked stunning in her Rocha wedding gown (RIP Rocha!).
She knew we weren’t there to be in a church for hours, so it was a quick and well-edited event.
Onto the reception!

Shay and Francis spun off on a vintage Austin Martin and the rest of us cruised over in the short bus.
The reception was held in another glamorous private clubhouse and we all roasted outside on the terrace, which looked over the rolling Blue Ridge Mountains. Booze flowed, food was abundant and as the night went on the socialites in attendance got frisky! The widow of the owner of the racetrack was courting me and the gals were all getting prodded about NYC fashion. It was great fun.

The band, Party on the moon.com (!), started off slow and then took it to Beyonce levels of rump shaking and wig waving. Hailing from Atlanta, I originally thought it was a band of tranny's but there was no mistaking these girls were the real deal. Rick and I sandwiched one of them and started shaking so fast that she forgot the words to her song and just burst out laughing.
As word got around that things were winding down the wedding party went into covert party mode. We slipped bottles of wine, champagne and vodka into ladies handbags, goodie bags, men's duffle bags. We were not to be dry tonight back at the inn.

As we were wrapping up the booze mission we were asked to move to the front of the clubhouse. Once gathered we were entertained by a dizzying fireworks display that rivaled Macys. Shay didnt miss a thing.

Once back to the end all hell broke loose and I, as usual ended up running amok in my drawers in the fountain. I will forever channel Scott and Zelda when near a mechanical pump and water.

The next morning we shared stories, piled on the grits and headed home while Shay and Francis wiped their brows and began gearing up for their second wedding in England. No rest for the wedded!

Be sure to check out Martha Stewart Wedding's spring issue of 2007 for more high style images...

Goo goo for Gawker

The Gawker was on the prowl last Thursday night at Ben and Horacio's lovely soiree.
Their 'Media Party Template' killed it!
Here is the text from the event but check out the site for the comments.
I think the saying, 'popularity breeds contempt', applies here.
Thanks Gawker for another witty write up!


http://www.gawker.com/news/photos/team-party-crash-fabulous-nobodies-republication-event-193730.php

Last night News gossip Ben Widdicombe and T (the NYT Style book) bigwig Horacio Silva threw a little party at Silva's charming apartment. The soiree was in honor of Lee Tulloch, whose Fabulous Nobodies is being republished on its twentieth anniversary. We dispatched Intern Neel, whose coverage follows, along with the fine work of Gawker lensman Nikola Tamindzic.

In our infinite wisdom, we showed up already intoxicated and way late. So late, in fact, that we got there just as everyone else was on their way out, though we'd like to think that was more random happenstance than cause-effect. Thankfully, we can extrapolate with 99% certainty what went on in the hours preceding our arrival using a top-secret Media Party Template we had mocked up specifically for situations like this:

1) Lots of drinking
2) Lots of idle chit-chat
3) Lots of discussing where everyone's going next

Rush and Molloy graduate Chris Rovzar stuck around just long enough to tell us he's quite excited about his upcoming Fulbright scholarship, in which he'll be studying gay marriages in Madrid (fear not, New York queens: the Daily News is keeping a spot for him when he gets back). Radar's Jeff Bercovici stuck around just long enough to tell us he was leaving. Gatecrasher and party co-host Ben Widdicombe stuck around to ply us with red wine.

Sufficiently plied, we asked Ms. Tulloch, the woman of the hour, whether she suffered any guilt over indirectly paving the way for the Weisbergers of the world. "Well," she said carefully, "at least it gives you something to do on the beach." That's one way to spin it.