Paris is Burning

TUTTLE MODE | THE COLLECTIONS

by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

My friend BJ’s birthday party on Saturday night left me in a rather delicate condition on Sunday.  The signature cocktail of the evening, The Godfather, was two parts scotch, one part Amaretto and an ice cube and sounded like a really good idea at the time.  The next morning, with my clothes spread across my closet floor and the bedroom door inexplicably propped against a wall, I realized that it clearly wasn’t.  After managing a hike in record heat and splitting a cheeseburger and onion rings with Scott, I wasn’t in any condition to do much but cradle my head on the sofa in front of the TV.

Daniel Villa is darkly glamorous, just like the Paris shows. (Ph: Rick Day)

I had a choice between Teen Mom 2 and watching the Sex and the City movie again, but I scrolled down a bit more and chose the E! True Hollywood Story on illusionist Criss Angel.  I guess they ran out of celebrities and are doing magicians now.  I remembered his show Mindfreak, where he would take off his shirt and do things like jump into a wood chipper yet emerge totally unscathed.  He also did some tricks with his shirt on but I don’t really recall any of those.

Paris: Where the Men are Glamorous and the Sheep are Scared

TUTTLE MODE | THE COLLECTIONS

by James Tuttle @TuttleMode

Gentle reader,

After some practice chukkers for next month’s Second Annual U.S. Gay Polo Tournament, I was a little sore and battered so I cleaned off my boots and crashed in front of the TV.  On the screen was some show I’d never heard of called Love & Hip Hop on VH1.  This sounded like something I’d enjoy watching about as much as “Love & Skateboarding” or “Love & Pictures of Disgusting Skin Diseases” but I was too tired to look for anything else.

On the sofa after polo practice, hand on the... Wait! That's not the remote!

As I tuned in, an older black lady with a five-pack-a-day voice was going on stage at a nightclub to introduce her new single.  It looked like one of those nights when they wait until everyone’s wasted enough for some unknown pop act to go up and lip-synch their soon-to-be dance hit without getting booed off the stage.