Bare Ankles Are In
This morning I read a fun article in the New York Times by Eric Wilson titled, “The Art of the Pants Roll.” I found the whole thing enjoyable. The writing was amusing… I actually laughed out loud at the coffee shop. Wilson’s observations, such as “Legions of young men… are rolling up their pants legs to such high-water lengths that one is tempted to inquire where exactly the auditions for the Huckleberry Finn revival are being held” or “By the way, there are several don’ts… No bootleg pants, which should be burned anyway” caught me off guard. In a good way. Where IS the flood?
To be honest, I like the trend… maybe not on me so much. Like they say, getting the roll right is harder than it looks. I have noticed on the few occasions I’ve bared my ankles… or socks, that the roll does help keep me cooler. During these hot days, every bit helps. After returning from NY, I forgot men were rolling up their pants, except on the rare occasion they showed up on a fashion blog. Truth is, I just don’t see it happen much here in Denver. Like so many other trends… good or bad. [Side note: I've been perusing needle+thread and le 21ème lately, two seattle street style/fashion blogs. Check them out.] Speaking of… where’s Denver’s needle+thread or le 21ème? If you have any insight, let us boys know.
I also found it interesting that the NYTs had taken so long to report on this. During some recent visits to New York (the last in May), I was struck by the large number of men that were rolling up their pants and jeans. At one point it felt just as Wilson describes it, “the rolled cuff epidemic of 2010.” It was a little overwhelming. I had an in-depth conversation about it with my brother. One explanation he shared revolved around a friend who explained that their choice was recession related. In other words, one could not be bothered by a visit to their tailor and actually pay the $10 to have their jeans properly hemmed. I could live with that…
Gay (Pride) by the Bay
This weekend was a wild one for the DOD boys, both of us in San Francisco to see friends and my Gentleman Friend, and to celebrate the wonders of Gay Pride. Alastair did more of the latter; I go more for “Gay Acceptance” than “Pride.” It’s not like I had anything to do with it, after all. As my brother is fond of saying, nature or nurture, it’s on my parents either way. So, on to the weekend…
We started off with a Thursday night trip with gal pals of Alastair’s to Tubesteak Connection (vile name, huh?), the weekly party at Aunt Charlie’s Lounge in the Tenderloin. The space is tiny and crowded with hipsters. The drinks are strong and the disco tunes kept coming. Aunt Charlie also forbids the use of cell phones (even for texting!); Blake approves. Your DOD boys danced the night away and then headed somewhere-or-other (memory gets fuzzy at this point) for an after-party. Way to start the weekend off with a bang!
Chow on Church below Market
The next day started with a little recovery. Alastair and I brunched at Chow, just below the corner of Church and Market. We began with a couple salads; Alastair had his perennial Chow favorite, the Shrimp Louie, and I went for the iceberg wedge. Mine wasn’t so great. They throw in just about everything imaginable: carrots, cucumbers, radishes, olives, even a beet! (Alastair’s was served with the same accompaniments, though he didn’t seem to mind as much). We finished things off with a smaller portion of the fusilli with sausage and mushrooms (me) and a cheese pizza with arugula (Alastair). Deelish! But even more tasty from Alastair’s point of view was that we were served by DJ Jason Kendig. Cause that’s the way things are in San Francisco: your afternoon waiter will be spinning at that night’s club. The afternoon was a lazy preparation for a friend’s party that night: running in Golden Gate Park (lovely for a jog if it’s not too windy) and a little happy hour cocktailing at DOD favorite Blackbird.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of cocktails and recovery (I was heavier on the latter than the former). Alastair, of course, attended the Goldfrapp concert in Oakland on Saturday night as well as Juanita Moore’s Pride Party on Sunday afternoon and evening. I admit it: I skipped the Pink Party on Saturday night, where a good chunk of Market and Castro is closed off for pedestrians (probably for the best as I also avoided the tragic shooting death), and I skipped the parade on Sunday. Bad gay! I did, however, dine with my Gentleman Friend at Memphis Minnie’s, a barbecue joint on Haight Street (their phone number is 415.864.PORK; they’re serious about their meat). We split the Minnie’s Taster: any three meats and two sides for $17.95. Combine that with an order of their very tasty BBQ-dusted shoestring fries and I was totally stuffed.
On Monday we regrouped, stopped at Bean There at Steiner and Waller for a coffee, and headed downtown for a little shopping. I picked up a discounted blazer at H&M that will be perfect for a summer wedding I’ll be attending in August. Alas, and despite all the sales, Alastair’s shopping ambitions were somehow stymied and he returned to Denver empty-handed. We then had a gossipy lunch with some of Alastair’s gal pals at Stacks in Hayes Valley. Their slogan is “Comfortable Food.” Really. It’s basically a diner with enormous (and very dusty) fake flower arrangements in gigantic urns, but in a very nice location right at the corner of Hayes and Octavia.
All in all, a very fun weekend was had by both of your DOD boys!
Wednesday Links
Neon Indian performing at the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival
- Cafe Society’s Jonathan Shikes reports on the Civic Center Eats Outdoor Cafe which returned to Civic Center Park yesterday for its weekly run through the summer. Here is some of what was available.
- Adam Richman tackles Boulder, kicking off a new season of the Travel Channel’s Man v. Food tonight at 7:30 p.m. MST.
- The Westword Music Showcase, Denver’s biggest one-day music festival, takes place this Saturday. Neon Indian, a major player in bringing the country’s attention to the chillwave movement of 2009, performs on the Mainstage at 4:30 p.m.
- The 28th annual Highlands Street Fair takes place this Saturday. Held on the Saturday of Father’s Day weekend, the street party features live music, tasty food, beer, and much more.
- J.W. Anderson, the 26-year-old menswear designer out of London (and Alastair’s professed pretend boyfriend) is one to watch. The NYTs T Magazine talks to the 26-year-old about his protogrunge-adventurer collection.
- Cougars on the prowl in Colorado nightclubs AND at Elway’s? I can’t imagine…
- Have you run out of ideas for Father’s Day? KI.D Collective offers up her own idea… and presents some handsome bags for the guys.
Blake in Italia
View of the Ponte Vecchio from the Uffizi Gallery, Firenze
Forgive my silence of late (not that you’ve probably noticed, Alastair has been so busy in his postings), but I have been abroad. In Italy, to be specific, with mi famiglia (that is about the extent of my Italian). La famiglia di Blake rented a house on a working vineyard in the hills northeast of Siena (courtesy of la mamma di Blake). We spent a couple nights in Firenze and then rented a car and drove south. When we arrived at what we had somewhat facetiously been calling “the villa,” we realized the description was not far off. It was a house on the property of an actual eighteenth-century villa. We were met by the scion of the wine-making family, who acted as caretaker for the rental properties. Pietro came in from a nearby field he had been tending, and, dear reader, he was seriously cute. He was also a former semi-professional tennis player. Were I a heterosexual teenage girl, this would have all the makings of a summer blockbuster starting Amanda Seyfried. We would have had a romance complete with moonlit chases in fields of grapes and chaste makeout sessions in abandoned medieval castellos on winding lanes. It would have ended in heartache when I returned stateside, but then Pietro would have… I digress. Instead let me share some of my observations on the pluses and minuses of Italia.
The pluses:
1. Gelato. In all of its many wonderful flavors. My two favorites — which, I kid you not, I consumed every single day — are caffè and cioccolato.
2. Wine. As I believe I mentioned, we were staying on a working vineyard and while we consumed plenty of wine just about every time we ate (including lunches), we also got a tour of the vineyard and a private wine-tasting with Pietro’s older brother, Alessandro, who heads up the vineyard. Though it is purely coincidental to Alastair’s recent post on the wonders of the rosé, I brought back a bottle of the very stuff that I look forward to sharing with him soon.
3. Wine, part due. We mostly drank red — we were in Chianti, after all — but ordering a glass of house white in Italia you can be almost guaranteed you will not be served a dreaded, oaky, buttery California chardonnay. It’s pinot grigio and soave and orvieto all the way.
4. Acqua gassata. I hate water. I need flavor or carbonation to drink the stuff. And so I love that at all restaurants in Italy you are automatically given the choice of acqua naturale OR gassata.
One of the tamer moccasins at Maledetti Toscani
5. Footwear. The shoes are gorgeous. From the moment we landed at Roma’s Fiumicino airport, I knew I was in a different land because people were just so well shod. The leather! The stitching! The colors! The shapes! Women and men, boys and girls. I picked up two hand-stitched pairs in a shop in Montelpulciano called Maledetti Toscani. Check out their men’s selection here.
6. Eyewear. Ditto above (minus the leather and the stitching). The colors! The shapes! Italians just are not constrained by trying to blend in and the men especially don’t seem to be super concerned with appearing masculine so they take chances that straight American men would see as “gay.”
7. Which brings me to my final point. Italian men wear clothes that fit. And while some of them are tight (even overly so at times), this is not my real point. They buy clothes in their actual sizes, not in the American straight man’s baggy large and extra-large. This is bad in one way because one of the American homosexual male’s tried and true methods for identifying his brethren is to look at the fit of clothing and Italian men (like many of Europeans) are thus confusing. But it is good for two even more important reasons: (a) it is so easy to find clothes that actually fit! Stores there have real size small and even the equivalent of an extra small. (b) Italian men look good in their fitting clothes!
Minuses:
1. The bread was surprisingly awful. Dry, tasteless, floury. As my mother remarked at one dinner, “And they’re really not that far from France, you’d think they could figure it out.” Indeed.
2. The showers (or lack thereof). Many European homes still insist on those cumbersome bathtubs with handheld shower heads that you have to manipulate yourself while trying not to flood the whole room.
That might be it. And when you’ve got a view like this one to come home to every night, complaints seem foolish:
View from the porch
Fancy Tiger
About two months ago, Alastair and some of our gal pals and I hit the town. Among our stops was Fancy Tiger, which was having one of its monthly trunk shows: DJs, beer, and various wares on sale. I told myself that I would return to shop when I wasn’t heading out on the town and I’ve finally done so.
Fancy Tiger is located at 14 South Broadway, between Archer and Ellsworth, right near some other DOD faves: Sputnik and Beatrice and Woodsley. They feature handmade jewelry, bags, and lots of men’s and women’s clothes for the arty and hipster crowd. It was the clothing that brought me back. I picked up a cute striped V-neck T-shirt (perfect for the coming summer) and a necktie. The tie — my first skinny tie! — has diagonal stripes in two shades of blue, allowing me to combine a trendy look with my Brooks Brothers roots. I’m easing my way into hipster formalwear.
This Friday Fancy Tiger once again hosts “Denver Made,” featuring DJs and great shopping from 7 to 10 pm. The event is sponsored by Great Divide Brewery, so you know what that means. Stop on by!
Denver Made at Fancy Tiger
Egomilio Sosa
Emilio Sosa
Growing up, and for many years thereafter, I have been told that people who exhibited arrogance were clearly just trying to compensate for a feeling of inferiority or for a lack of self-esteem. In the case of Emilio Sosa, I’m not so sure. I finally was able to watch the season finale of Project Runway, as well as the reunion show that took over the Models of the Runway slot. And of the whole hour and half I was most struck by Emilio’s incredible ego and by his incredulity at his loss to Seth Aaron. He just didn’t seem to get that someone was judged to be better than he.
It was these two shows that convinced me — as if I hadn’t already realized this — that I care just as much about the personality of the designers as I do about the clothes. In this respect, Emilio and Mila were always low on my list to support. All in all, I may have liked Emilio’s clothing the best. Seth Aaron’s still looked overworked, if perfectly fitted. I actually found Mila’s collection much more appealing than was the sum total of what she had produced on the season thus far. But all in all, not as impressive as Emilio or Seth Aaron.
But what most impressed me about the whole fiasco was Emilio’s arrogance. And this after a season of cockiness: refusing to listen to Tim’s advice; constantly boasting that he was the one to beat; crowing when he won consecutive challenges. He seemed shocked that Seth Aaron had won. Not disappointed, as would be warranted, but stunned. He then committed his greatest error. He said, “In the words of our wisest competitor this season, Anthony Williams, you don’t have to win the crown to be the king.” Loyal watchers will know that this was decidedly not what Anthony said. Because Anthony is a camp goddess he was not only trying to make light of his elimination but also to poke fun at his own flamboyance and the fact that he would, like a good queen, carry on no matter what. Emilio, in exchanging queen for king, was not only erasing half of Anthony’s meaning, but also trading in the sentiment to say that he not only would be, but also already was the best, no matter what the judges said. First of all, this is remarkably cocky (and he continued by talking about the “worldwide” esosa brand he was going to be establishing). Second, the degaying of the remark is a little offensive. Is Emilio Sosa gay? I have no idea. (I do know that asking that question is going to result in ten hits per day. Update: He’s gay. Check out the comments below.) Is he an unmarried male fashion designer? Indeed he is. So either he’s gay and a little self-loathing and hung up on his masculinity, or he’s a mildly homophobic straight guy. In either case he paid homage to Anthony and then stripped him of his gayness, which is pretty difficult to do with Anthony.
His behavior on the reunion show only confirmed his arrogance. While he was willing to “accept” Nina’s explanation for Seth Aaron’s victory (that Emilio had created a line and not a collection), that he had to question her in the first place just demonstrated how much he didn’t get it: no matter how much they liked you, Emilio, they liked Seth Aaron better. Simple as that.
Parallel 17
Where is my post evaluating the season finale of Project Runway, you might be asking yourself. Where indeed? I had to attend an odious work function on Thursday night and so missed what I had thought was only going to be a reunion show. I was wrong. It was the finale. And it’s still not on the Lifetime website. Of course I know who the winner is and I’ve watched the brief clips of the collections, but I have yet to see the actual episode or the reunion episode that apparently aired in the MotR slot. Dear reader, I am without a DVR. So I await Lifetime’s decision to include the finale on mylifetime.com.
In the meantime, I can share with you the dinner that Alastair and I had last night. We ventured out in the wind and the rain to one of our longtime faves, Parallel 17, the Vietnamese restaurant named for the line of latitude that once separated North from South Vietnam and presumably for the fact that it’s on 17th Avenue (at Franklin). We haven’t been to P17 in a while and the menu has changed somewhat; it seems like there are more appetizers but perhaps fewer entrées. That said, there seemed to be a number of specials we overheard servers telling their tables about; we were not informed of these ourselves (!). No great loss, as our meal was very tasty! We began with the calamari, which P17 serves with deep-fried slices of jalapeños, oranges, and other citrus fruits as well as a salad of watercress and a tangy dressing. Delicious. We followed that up with an order of the steamed pork buns, themselves served with a spicy cilantro and cabbage slaw. These appetizers, it must be said, are not small.
Braised Short Ribs with Chinese Broccoli, Potatoes, and Onion Rings
We would have been fine splitting just one entrée but of course we had already ordered two. And they, too, were generous. This was the rare moment where your DOD boys were unable to clean their plates (or, in my case, cutting board). Alastair ordered the coffee-braised short ribs, which he’d had before. They come with a potato purée, onion rings, and Chinese broccoli that looked very green and very tasty.
Duck Four Wraps
I ordered the “Duck Four Wraps”: duck prepared four ways (rillette, mousse pâté, pan seared, and confit) and about a million other things (pickled onions, radishes, garlic; scallions, jicama, basil, and on and on). All of this one wraps up in four pancakes. So. Much. Food. All of it very good indeed, particularly the confit (skin so crispy!) and the pâté, which was so rich I couldn’t finish it. Alastair and I paired our meals with two different glasses of dry Italian white chosen from P17′s good selection of wines by the glass.
P17 was awarded Westword’s Best Nouvelle Vietnamese in 2008; I wonder of course whether or not Denver actually provides much competition in this category. Regardless, the food is delicious, the service is friendly (even if only certain diners get told about the specials), and the ambiance — save the TV featuring the basketball game (why do ALL Denver restaurants have TVs for showing sports? The subject for another post) — is warm and pleasant. Especially on an evening of gusting winds and occasional rain.
Project Runway Final Three
So last night’s episode of PR was, it must be said, a bit of a snooze. Tim’s visits to the finalists’ hometowns were much more abbreviated than usual. The only meal we witnessed was the sampling of Filipino delicacies with the Sario clan. We did, however, get to see Mr. Gunn on a trampoline and that might have been worth the price of admission. Otherwise, however, not so thrilling.
Brandise and Mila
The reason for tuning in, of course, was to find out which of the two possible semi-finalists — Mila or Jay — would make it to Bryant Park (Seth Aaron and Emilio are already in). It kills me to say this, but I was actually torn after watching about half the episode. I have spent the better part of this season loathing Mila and her clothing. But somehow I turned last night. Maybe it was that I find all of Jay’s crying a little trying. Or that I don’t like the idea of an all male final three. Maybe it was that I didn’t actually mind a couple of the coats that Mila had created. Or that I kind of love that she has a dorky boyfriend and a dalmatian (color blocked!). Perhaps it was because I agreed with Tim that much of Jay’s collection was seriously overworked. Whatever the reason, I think I might actually have been rooting for Mila when it came time for the final pronouncement. I really felt like it could have gone either way. Both Mila and Jay had some good pieces and some missteps: the collar of the sparkly dress for Mila and the hideous shiny silver shirt in the case of Jay. And while Mila won, I think it might all be a moot point: my guess is that neither one stands much of a chance against Emilio and Seth Aaron.
If PR was a bit pokey last night, then MotR was even more boring. Without a real elimination, there just wasn’t much drama. So Brandise created it! I’m starting to wonder if she’s being given prompts by the producers, because asking each designer to name the one s/he believed was most talented (aside from oneself) seemed like a ridiculous exercise in awkwardness. Of course it came back to bite Brandise in the ass when the models themselves had to answer the same question and Christina and Lorena both chose each other, leaving Brandise out in the cold with Emilio.
Here at DOD we’re very curious to see who will take the top prize but it looks like next week is the obligatory reunion show…
Where’s a (gay) boy to shop?
So I’ve been away for the weekend and I got back today and checked my mail, only to find an announcement about a Bloomingdale’s sale and the latest Barney’s catalogue. Really, do I actually need two reminders at once that, repeat after me, there is no good shopping in Denver? I do not, because I am reminded of this every time I need to buy a new outfit.
We here in Denver do not have a Bloomingdale’s, which, let’s face it, isn’t always stellar, but certainly can be (the SF store has a pretty good selection of menswear). Nor do we have a Barney’s, but there aren’t exactly tons of locations nationwide, so perhaps this shouldn’t top the list of what we are denied (but a boy can dream).
But listen to what else is absent from Colorado (as if you didn’t already know!):
Club Monaco — the good old reliable (and Canadian!) company that can emphasize the basics a little too often, but is always reliable for precisely those basics. And the clothes fit! They even carry extra small at some locations. (Michigan, Minnesota, Florida, and Georgia all have at least one.)
Zara — the sometimes over-the-top Spanish company that occasionally veers a little too close to the land of International Male, but also makes clothes in small sizes and often very nice jackets. (Locations in Maryland, Nevada, and Puerto Rico and everywhere else you would expect. Read: real cities.)
H & M — the bargain basement Swiss brand that makes clothes that fall apart after about a year but that you paid so little for to begin with that you don’t care. (Stores in Arizona, Delaware, Kentucky, Ohio, Wisconsin, 2 in Indianapolis [!], and one on a Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, CA.)
Reiss — the overpriced and elegantly simple British line that I would wear everyday if I could afford it.
TopShop — the H&Mesque British shop that sometimes features an adjoining TopMan filled with duds for hipsters and skateboarders and gays like me.
I recognize that expecting Denver to have either of the last two is probably a tall order, but no Club Monaco? Come on, people! I repeat: where’s a gay boy to shop? Suggestions welcome so long as they aren’t pointing me in the direction of Abercrombie and Fitch, American Eagle, or Hollister (I have written about my feelings on that sort of silliness before).
“That was a bit of a shock, yes?”
Where do I begin? Episode 11 of Project Runway, “Sew Much Pressure” was like no other this season. You may be thinking to yourself, doesn’t Blake typically writes the PR/MoTR entries? Yes, dear DOD readers, Blake does. However, the shock was too much for Blake who was “too upset by Cerri’s leaving and Brandise being a bitch” to write anything this week. So here is my attempt:
The remaining designers were charged with creating a red carpet look for a very opinionated celebrity who asked to be “on the best dressed list, not the worst dress list.” Really… I thought all celebrities yearned for the moment they would be on the worse dressed list. I guess that’s better than not being on any list at all. Just saying. I was more confused by Lifetime’s inability to find a willing celebrity… and decided to recycle the pregnant Klum for yet another challenge. Marie Claire cover, anyone?
"I will not have a bump so think of me without the bump."
There was plenty of drama, however, to distract me from this. Seth Aaron’s model Valeria decided to take a high-paying gig with DKNY… and Cerri got to return! Even more surprising, Maya, after a lengthy disappearance, announced that she was dropping out of the competition. She was somewhat upset with not winning a challenge, but everyone was stunned. And so was I… until I found out that Anthony got to come back! And in his own words, “Who wouldn’t want Anthony back? Heck who doesn’t like him, I like him.” It reminded me of when the fabulous Chris March got booted and returned in Season 5. I could not have been happier to see him return. Last week was heartbreaking.
And Miss Thang is back.
Emilio and Anthony impressed the judges so much that they both won. Emilio’s sequined gown was constructed without a flaw. The shimmering fabric wasn’t my favorite, but it fit beautifully. Anthony’s black-and-white gown embodied, in my mind, classic Hollywood glamour and let’s be honest, this was a challenge for Anthony. I’m looking forward to seeing him dress the stars. Heidi chose Emilio’s gown and guest judge Jessica Alba (who is apparently making the rounds this week) chose Anthony’s. I loved Alba’s comment that “It’s one movie on one side and another movie on the other side.”
Emilio Sosa
Anthony Williams
The rest of the designers were serious disappointments. WHEN is Mila going to go? Her dress was nothing red carpet-like. According to Nina Garcia, it looked like “something the Housewives of New Jersey would wear” and I could not have agreed more. The final two were Jay and Jonathan. I think the pressure finally got to Jonathan whose dress was thrown together at the last minute and was eliminated.
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