The Rules of Attraction


by James Killough

After a steaming bowl of pho last Saturday night on Santa Monica Boulevard, my friend Richard and I walked over to The Abbey for a pre-Christmas drink-‘n-cruise, lured in by the massive festive tree in the courtyard speckled with clumps of cotton wool.  For those unfamiliar with the establishment, The Abbey is not a traditional gay bar any more.  It’s a tourist attraction that looks like a Mexi-Cali version of an Asian temple, in which straight people can feel comfortable because it isn’t really a meat market as much as it is a vast posing gallery.  It used to be the most beautiful gay bar in the world, but it was taken over by the evidently straight hospitality group SBE, gutted and given a disgraceful remodeling for absolutely no good reason other than it seems to pack more suckers in there.

After asking for a dirty martini on the rocks from a bartender who was clearly on a testosterone-and-salad diet, and instead getting a tankard full of pure vodka with five enormous olives thrown on top, transforming it from a cocktail into a fetish, Richard and I went outside to the patio.  Because we are both tall and have this Mr. Clean bald thing going on—I call us the Twin Towers—we stood behind the door that leads back into the club in order to be out of the way of the continual bumper-car stream flowing by.

The Write Model


by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

RuPaul and Design Star took a back seat this week because we have a very special treat for you here at Tuttle Mode.  It’s our first ever book review!

Now, wipe that stupid look off your face.  Books can be fun, especially when they’re about two of your favorite things—sex and fashion!  Just ask Jackie Collins or my longtime friend, bestselling London author Lulu Taylor.  We are introducing a new novel called Walking Marina written by a male model about the modeling business and that, as far as I know, hasn’t really happened before.

Author D. R. Hildebrand. All this and he's smart, too!

The story follows an aimless teen catapulted from a Mid-western steel mill into New York’s fiercely competitive modeling world.  When his novelty begins to fade, he gets pulled into the seamy underside of the business, testing his morality and, ultimately, his humanity.

The Slow, Inexorable Demise of the Gay Bar (And Not a Moment Too Soon)


by James Killough

I’ve done something highly unusual for me the past two weekends: I’ve been gaybarhopping twice with friends.  What makes it extremely the more unusual is I’ve been stone-cold sober; I’m currently in one of my Puritan phases.  Most guys need to drink heavily when they’re in a gay bar, which is why liquor companies love us so much.  We singlehandedly built the Absolut brand without help from an Ikea instruction manual.  We own the Country of Sweden’s economy.  Says so right on the bottle.

The super awesome Johnny Knoxville screening "Jackass 3D" at The Eagle in LA just to show how grateful he is that we Gheys appreciate how willfully homo-erotic the Jackass franchise is.

The reason one tends to get hammered in a gay environment is that this is no ordinary social gathering.  You are shopping and being shopped for: the desire for sex is the mixer in your drink; the potential for sex could be standing next to you at the urinal.  So you need to relax, and that’s what booze is for, as well as a few Vicodin, and maybe a bump of… etcetera.