Tuesday, January 30, 2007
My favorite story about Sea Island is one my great aunt Belle used to tell. She said she was standing in front of the Taj Mahal with her husband Thornton and he looked at her, sighed, and said, "I’d rather be at Sea Island."
This says it all. Sea Island has been a magical getaway for my family since it opened its doors in the late 20's. Needless to say, when we heard they were ripping down the entire joint and building new, we said 'never again'.
But curiosity about killed this cat so my sisters and I took mother down there for her birthday. We have been moaning about the trip for months, how it will never be the same and this is simply a swan song to say goodbye forever.
Well we have already booked for 2008!
Upon entering the lush enclave that are the Golden Isles of Georgia, the musty scent of the paper mills fills our heads with nostalgia of days gone by and we enter onto Sea Island in a delirious state. The oaks, manicured lawns and signs all seem so familiar but all the buildings are completely new and enormous.
We check in and find out that we have spa treatments daily on the house! It was part of the package. Hot damn, my sister was on her phone booking appointments before the concierge finished her sentence.
The resort has whittled down their rooms from 300 to a quaint 150. That means bigger rooms and fewer crowds. Our room was the size of my apartment with two massive bedrooms, bathrooms and a gorgeous terrace looking over the river, where we cozied up to watch the sunset over the marsh with some champagne.
One reason we thought we might never go back is the price. Everything has gone through the roof. This said we luckily got upgraded to a bigger room. Originally we were camping Clampet style in one bedroom. Also dinner on the property is a wonder in price structures, so we ate at amazing top-drawer restaurants off property and saw many other guests doing the same. Don’t get me wrong, I'll splurge on a swank dinner every once in a while but mom, Happy and I were so tanked by the time it was dinner time, Wendy's would of been just fine for all we could care. Just bring us a bottle of something!
I woke at the crack on Saturday and headed to the stables for a ride on the beach. I had a massive draft horse named Charlie who was drop dead gorgeous and he knew it. He would not canter to save his life and kept running my guide’s horse into the water. It was fun all the same to clop about on the beach with a crisp morning breeze blowing through his mane.
I too took advantage of the spa treatments. I had the CUTEST masseuse named Bryan. Please ask for him next time you head down. He was great and a real sweetheart. The pedicure wasn't that wonderful. I had a lady who came out to the waiting area and exclaimed, "Hey Cator! I’m 'Tina' and Ill be working on your feet!" I know what goes on with a pedicure but to have it announced just grated me a bit. They need to hire some gals from Bloomie nails who get down and dirty with it. She slapped a rainbow of gels and scrubs on but nothing to write home about.
Sea Island really is about relaxing but we didn’t do too much of that with our busy schedule of eating, touring, spaing and drinking. We were in store for a real treat when we took a tour of my friend Hawkins' summer home. The house was built and lived in by the famed playwright Eugene O'Neil and his wife Carlotta. Hawkins and his family, plus a very experienced interior designer, took the home back to its roots with minimal furnishings and maximum old school style. Hopefully I will be writing more about Casa Genotta in the near future. Stay tuned.
I got a bit ill the second night out so I crept home to bed at 10pm, a luxury actually. The ladies tore it up in the bar and managed to wiggle into the G8 conference room and plop down, wine in hand, in GW Bush's chair and pontificate about who knows what.
Sunday I had one more massage from Bryan, bid my family farewell and went to lunch in the River Cafe to meet Kyle Jones. She is the 'voice' of Sea Island and what a voice! We have been talking for over a year about coverage of the property so it was about time we met. We were instant BFF's and when they told me my car was in front to take me to the airport, we both sighed. We had so much to talk about. She said that if I secure a story on the place she would bring me back down this summer. Hmmm... may the pitching begin....
Now I am back in the saddle at home and preparing for Fashion Week. I'm sure I will be gazing at some stick thin model and say to myself, "I’d rather be in Sea Island."
Saturday, January 20, 2007
We all got up at the crack to go riding in Central Park and when we arrived at the stables the manager told us it was too icy for riding in Central Park and that all rides had been canceled for the day.
She was just as irritated as we were.
BOO! And we were all kitted out in helmets, boots and jodpurs.
We made the most of the day, since we are rarely up and never out by 8:30am.
We were the first to arrive at the Boat House and feasted on a mammoth buffet. It was so lovely to gaze out onto the icy lake while warming up with some ht tea.
Then we took a tour of the park and found loads of amusing statues to climb on.
We walked up to the Met and toured the Nan Kempner exhibit in the Costume Institute. Such fun!
I even saw the Lacroix jacket that she mentioned in a panel discussion I attended several years ago. She exalted that it was made by Def and Dumb women in the south of France. An audience member spoke up that the jacket was actually made at an atelier that hires battered and abused women and not def and dumb women. "Oh that's right! Well I just adore that jacket!" was her quick and snappy response....
We wrapped up our outting at noon on the dot.
Noon? We usually are just getting up after a night at the Beatrice!
Friday, January 12, 2007
my mother sent this to me and I find quite close to perfect.
First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. My friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around during the holidays, hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:
1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-boyfriends / girlfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?
2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.
3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.
4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the
proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.
Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets.
In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.
Your biggest fan
P.S. THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder
THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Right before ole Saint Nick was twirlin' around the world, Harvey Milk was having their Second Annual Trans week.
There were voice coaches for the boys who will soon be girls, collagen classes, therapy sessions and of course a huge Voguing Ball to round off the week.
Last year Lady Kier and I hosted the ball and this year Eli called me asking whom I could muster up for round 2. Since Lady Bunny blogged about my blog on the event last year I thought she would be the perfect candidate. And I couldn't of picked a better dame!
While I as in Miami I mentioned the event to Casey Spooner of Fischer Spooner fame and he leapt at the chance to be a judge.
With my Trans Bunny and Electro Dandy secured for the event I knew it would be a good one.
Sure enough, these kids tore up the runway for us and it was hard to decide whom to choose as the winner.
Butch Realness was my favorite category. These boys were not messing around. They had the puffa jackets and struts down to a T! Although it was hard to beat the 'chameleon' category when the kids would walk the runway and then rip off their clothes to reveal another look all together. Go Wonder Woman!
One girl shook herself so hard that her heel popped off and she kept going in a flat and heel combo. Then her wig flew off and she just pulled down her real hair into the act. She is going to be a legend for sure...
Bunny, resplendent in a black short sheath with a glittering Playboy Bunny on the front and only slightly ginormous pile of blonde hair, cackled through the whole event at the looks, labels and lunges these kids would pull out for the judges.
Casey was equally entranced with their stop drop and twirl moves. Look for some of these tricks on his next tour!
Thanks to Bunny and Casey for participating and if anyone would like to volunteer or donate to this amazing school for GLBT and questionable kids, then please visit www.hmi.org