We ♥ Mondo Guerra
Mondo Guerra
Before I talk about the ways that Mondo Guerra has worked his way into our hearts, let me say a few other things about last night’s show:
- People are really funny talking about Ivy: She can sew, but she’s not so much as a designer. She’s intense and bitchy and exacting. She thinks pretty highly of herself.
- Gretchen — despite a few snide comments about Casanova — seems to have calmed down somewhat from her earlier antics. Perhaps she took Tim’s criticism to heart?
- Kristen Bell? Really?!? Has it come to this, Project Runway? Is she about to appear in some Lifetime TV movie and this was something worked out with the network? ’Cause she is hardly known for her fashion forward choices. Aside from Veronica Mars and that unfortunate looking film about some wedding in Italy with Josh Duhamel, she is hardly known at all. Did you see the dress she was wearing? Did you see the way that Kors and Heidi and la Garcia hardly interacted with her? Did you hear her say that she would wear April’s “dress” on the red carpet? Did you hear her describe herself as punk baby doll? Did you ask yourself why that would be a good idea for an aesthetic? As far as guest judges go, it was a train wreck from beginning to end.
But now on to MONDO! Yes, he may have designed a “junior” outfit (a term heretofore confined to department stores) that the judges hated. Yes, even we may have thought it was a bit silly looking, but for all these reasons, we love him still:
- His description of Ivy: “She’s a powerhouse and a bossy lady.”
- His wonderful turnaround on the Michael C front. Do I love Michael C? I do not. But Mondo seems to have realized that he may have judged him too harshly. And he said this, not only to us at home, but also to Michael himself, apologizing for being a bitch and a dick and a jerk. Props to Mondo.
- And then he did so again on the runway, claiming that whatever faults his outfit had, they were not because of Michael’s sewing.
- His outfits! I loved the little suit with the pink shirt and the bowtie. Adorable!
- His hair! So many options, so many styles!
- His tiny little limbs in those shorts and t-shirts. Alastair and I are on the smaller side ourselves and we do like to see the non-muscled gays represent.
- He’s from Denver!
Mondo Guerra, will you be our friend when you return to the Mile High City? This city needs more folks like you. Where do you hang out? Who are your friends? Do you belong to a little clique of fashionable hipsters? If so, can we join you? Please email us at downandoutindenver AT gmail DOT com.
Modernism and Beyond
Friday evening was quite the experience for your DOD boys. They did indeed go to the Denver Modernism Show, but they did so much else last night as well.
Free drinks, entertainment, and special guests were the rule of thumb at the Denver Modernism Show Early VIP Gala… and they use the term gala very loosely. Black Tie it was not. Blake and I had the pleasure of being some of the first to shop the show, alongside our fellow modernism enthusiasts: Mr. and Ms. B, and the fashionable, Ginger Snap. We were kindly greeted, on multiple occasions, by Charles Phoenix, the self-proclaimed “King of Retro.” Our VIP tickets got us two free cocktails: Your choice of Mai Tai, Blue Hawaiian, or some other rum cocktail at the fabulously decorated Tiki Bar. Blake don’t care for rum, but I’ll drink just about anything, especially if it comes free with admission and an umbrella. We were also treated to live music, heavily tattooed hula girls, and some unmemorable entertainment. Yours truly fell in love with some serious chartreuse colored champagne/sherbet cocktail glasses (see below) by the versatile Russel Wright, designed to complement his recently reissued American Modern dinnerware. At twenty dollars a piece, I had to painfully pass, but they would have been a spectacular addition to a mid-century modern themed New Year’s Eve party.
Keeping in line with the mid-century theme, Ms. B suggested dinner and drinks at Bastien’s Restaurant and Steakhouse, located on East Colfax Avenue, near the Bluebird Theater. Blake has visited Bastien’s before, but this was Alastair’s first visit. Let’s say my expectations were not high, but I was tremendously pleased with my entire experience.
Bastien’s is an old school steakhouse and bar with an interesting architectural design. Started by William Bastien in 1937 when he bought out the Moon Drive Inn, the present twelve-sided building was constructed in 1958 and has a sort of subtle Googie flair—an exaggerated modern architectural style seen in the coffee shops, bowling alleys, and motels of the 1950s and 1960s. After a drink at the bar lounge, Blake and I, alongside Mr. and Ms. B and Ginger Snap sat down for a wonderful dining experience. Now, Bastien’s is not inexpensive, but compared to the prices we pay at Potager, this was a bargain and we were well fed! We all started with salads. I had the Caesar, while everyone else had the Ice Berg wedge with Blue cheese dressing and bacon crumbles. My salad came with grilled romaine, a very nice touch, and plenty of shaved parmesan cheese and croutons, along with a tasty balsamic reduction and a DOD favorite, anchovies! Ms. B received something that looked more like half a head of lettuce, rather than a wedge. But who’s complaining!
Moving onto dinner, Blake ordered LaLa’s Steak, a ten ounce New York steak grilled with fresh lime and cracked pepper, served with fresh peppers and pico de gallo. Mr. and Ms. B went with a German theme. Mr. B enjoyed his Beef Liver sautéed with onions, “just like mom made,” and seasoned mashed potatoes. Ms. B seemed very pleased with her wiener schnitzel. Ginger had the pork chop special and I chose the ten ounce New York with Deep Fried Shrimp. It came with a reasonably sized baked potato with sour cream, butter, cheese, and chives, and the steak was perfectly cooked to a true medium rare. Delicious! We ended our meal with some apple pie sizzling skillet dessert with vanilla ice cream. The perfect ending to a perfect meal.
After going our separate ways, Blake and I enjoyed a brisk walk down Colfax to grab ourselves a night-cap at HER BAR located at Colfax and Washington. According to the website Fridays at HER BAR are FemmeBar with DJ Love, who seemed to be spinning an eclectic mix of 80s new wave and current hits by Usher, Gaga, and others. We grabbed ourselves a seat at the bar and a drink. Blake was intrigued by reruns of The Nanny projected onto an interior wall. Is Fran Drescher a lesbian? Is there some lesbian connection that we DOD boys are unaware of? Clearly, the Nanny was a gay icon… I mean look at those highlight clips on YouTube. Just saying.
In any case, the DOD boys seemed to be a magnet for the more interesting ladies enjoying themselves last night. My friend, whose name I did not catch, was clearly a fan of the drink. Tired of waiting for a refill and patience running thin, she decided to continually stand then sit until finally waving her hands in the air as though she was directing a 747 from its final approach to the gate. Blake’s lady friend, Nila, was much cuter than mine… but perhaps just as drunk. I don’t know much about Nila, but the girl liked to dance… and apparently found the two of us very interesting. We later met her gal pal Fay, who had no idea “what was going on.” As the night went on, Nila became even more friendly. I think she may have slightly molested Blake as Fay and I chatted offline. I hope that Nila understood that she wasn’t going to get very far. In any case, we found HER (or HER, or HER, or HER) BAR lots of fun and an amusing way to end the evening. We’ll be back Nila, don’t you worry your pretty little big pocket shorts! And the DOD boys will have their dancing shoes with them next time!
Project Runway, Season 8
The Cast of Season Eight
Needless to say, we here at DOD are super excited for the beginning of Season Eight of Project Runway. I was galavanting around the East Coast on premiere night so only caught it upon my return. It looks like we could have a whole lot of fun this time around. I’m not thoroughly convinced that they are all super-talented, but I’m certainly ready to be surprised. At this point there are so many of them and their clothes come down the runway so rapidly that it’s a little difficult to keep things straight in my head. A few thoughts:
Where is Models of the Runway?!? It is difficult to figure out what’s going on from MyLifetime.com, but the new 90-minute format of PR and the lack of MotR this first week suggest that it is a thing of the past. I have to admit, and though it took me a little while to get used to, I actually really liked MotR. I’m going to miss it. And there is no way that it can be replaced by On the Road with Austin and Santino. You could not pay me to watch that.
There are definitely some cute boys, chief among them Christopher Collins and A.J. Thouvenot. And girls; I like that Sarah Trost.
Jason Troisi would be cute if he never, ever, actually opened his mouth. Not just to speak but because his cuteish face is ruined by something that happens when he smiles. Or, of course, talks. Because he is apt to emphasize his love of breasts or his 100% pure Italian heritage or his penchant for hats that will intimidate others.
Peach Carr may be out of her league but I really hope she lasts. Yes, she tends to overemphasize her age, but she’s also pretty funny. And her name is Peach.
While I loved the convo en espanol con la Garcia, Casanova’s dress (!?!) was horrible. Selma Blair (I heart Selma Blair) was particularly funny about it, saying it could be sold in a store at the mall called Razzle Dazzle that specialized in dresses and wigs. His lack of a first name is foolish.
Mondo Guerra is from Denver!
Nicholas D’Aurizio is going to be a cryer, and it’s not going to be pretty. His model, however, is gorgeous.
There was some pretty ugly clothing sent down that runway, which makes me even more irritated with Heidi for threatening to send home more than one person and almost never actually following through on it. I was perfectly comfortable losing McKell, but I would not have had a problem seeing any of those in the bottom going: it was all pretty bad. And Nina’s face let you know what she thought about every single one of the disasters.
Gretchen Jones may be a bit of a serious Susie (as my Gentleman Friend put it) but her dress was pretty and well made, if a bit on the boring side. Does she have it in her to take it all? We shall see…
East Coat Adventures
While Alastair was soaking up the sun in Palm Springs – are you staying at a clothing-optional resort, Alastair? Enquiring minds want to know – I was having an East Coast adventure. It all began with a work trip last weekend to Rochester, New York; continued with four days at a friend’s cabin in the Adirondacks; then a night in New York City. I then joined some of my best gal pals from college for a road trip to West Virginia. For a gay wedding. I kid you not. Then back to New York, and finally back home. Some observations about my ten days on the road:
Pandora Boxx
Gay bars in Rochester are fun! Not only did we see Pandora Boxx, one-time star of RuPaul’s Drag Race perform live at the Tilt Nightclub and Ultralounge (more than a lounge, an ultra lounge), but we also hung out at Rochester’s Leather and Levi Bar, Bachelor Forum (a little lite on the leather and levi, it must be said, not that I’m complaining; they also have what can only be described as a gay sculpture garden out front), and the most fun was had at 140 Alex: karaoke, drag shows, great music, strong drinks. Best of all, it was as mixed as can be: people of all shades and hues, ladies and gents, butch and femme, even straight people! This is what seems to happen in small towns: less queer self-segregation. DOD approves.
The Garbage Plate at Nick Tahou's in Rochester
Rochester is known for something called the “garbage plate”: macaroni, beans, red hots (apparently some sort of spicy miniature hot dog), beef, and a variety of other delicious elements. Health.com has named the garbage plate the fattiest food in New York State. Needless to say, I did not partake, though I did have sushi. In Rochester. At a restaurant that “specialized” in the food of at least 5 Asian nations. And it wasn’t half bad. The rust belt surprises every once in a while.
The Adirondacks are lovely in July. Highs in the low 80s and overnights in the 60s. My gal pals and I swam, we boated, we ran, we ate ice cream at a stand called Northern Lights in a quaint lakeside town sitting on a bench. One of us (not me) prepared a delicious bourbon marinated (though he said marinaaaded) pork loin on the barbecue. We even hiked. In short, it was rather all-American. And that was not actually unpleasant.
I love New York City. Sometimes I miss it like I might miss an absent limb. I used to feel like my life continued on there even while I was physically in Denver. I am pretty much convinced that it is the center of the universe. That said, it is a foul disgusting humid pit of a city at the height of the summer. The nights were actually reasonable but during the day I was a sweaty mess and found myself missing the very dry heat of Denver, which doesn’t leave a boy feeling quite so unkempt. That said, I must have lost about three and a half pounds in water weight just walking around in one afternoon.
The Hillbrook Inn near Charles Town, WV
West Virginia is beautiful! I was a wee bit scared that four gay boys on a road trip to WV might well have difficulty making it out of the state alive, and while we definitely got a couple strange looks at a rest stop, we also had a fantastic time. We were staying at the Hillbrook Inn, a beautiful 1920s Tudor mansion converted to a bed and breakfast and the site was idyllic. Manicured lawns, patios and porches, and a stream running through the property all made it the ideal spot to lounge around with good friends for a weekend. They even provide quilts for that very lounging on the lawns. The wedding party had the whole place to itself and it turns out that the grooms’ other friends were lots of fun as well. We also ate well and drank ourselves silly. In short, it was all a wedding weekend should be, and this is coming from someone who objects to marriage.
Now, alas, back to work…
Blake’s Book Nook, Vol. I
So one of my perpetual complaints about Denver is that people don’t really seem to read. Books. Fiction, non-fiction, whatever you like; just something other than magazines and newspapers and the interwebs. I like to read. A lot. I’ve also always had a fantasy, if I weren’t doing what I do now, of opening up a little bookstore where I would stock the shelves with all the things that I like to read and develop a community of like-minded readers here in D-Town. Maybe I’d even call it Blake’s Book Nook. In that spirit, I am inaugurating a new feature here at DOD. Every once in a while I will post about a book that I think people might enjoy reading, just as I did in the very first weeks of DOD.
We begin this literary venture with the latest from Stephen McCauley, Insignificant Others. McCauley is the author of five previous novels, most famous among them The Object of My Affection, which was made into a movie starring Jennifer Aniston and the ever-dreamy Paul Rudd. I first read McCauley when I was an undergrad and just coming to terms with the gay thing. He writes novels that are quite funny but also often poignant. Combining these two elements isn’t always easy, but at his best McCauley makes it look so. In my estimation his most recent two have not been as good as his early work, but he returns in fine form with Insignificant Others. It is the story of HR Director Richard Rossi, who is having a long-term affair with a straight married man but is also partnered with Conrad (who Richard has discovered is also having an affair of his own). Richard suffers few moral qualms about all this; he just doesn’t want to upset the precarious balance that has been established. The thing to know about McCauley is that you can’t take it all too seriously; his characters often do not. The book is slightly implausible, but often ridiculously funny for being so. In addition McCauley is just so astute in his observations about people and life in general that the implausibility ceases to be a problem. It’s also pretty clear that McCauley knows he’s writing some pretty absurd characters. In sum, it is just hard to believe that people making such foolish choices could simultaneously also be this lucid or self-aware. But it’s great fun for the reader that they are! I leave you with some gems from Insignificant Others.
This is a musing by Richard after being overheard by a small child:
From what I can tell, the chief distinguishing factor between children and adults is that children hear everything while appearing not to and adults hear nothing while pretending to listen.
This is the reaction of a female friend after Richard has lied to cover up his male friend’s own lie:
She frowned at me. ”I won’t hold it against you for trying to back up his lie, Richard. It seems to be the main purpose of male friendships.”
“Versus women’s friendships,” Conrad said amiably. ”Which are all about discussing the lies the men in their lives tell them.”
About a personal trainer who has taken to spray tanning:
As people demand less and less be done to their food chemically, they seem to be insisting that more chemicals be applied directly onto or into their bodies; painted tans, injected lips, pharmaceutically elongated eyelashes.
And finally, in discussing golf:
It was all about letting loose your aggressions in a calculated way and then watching the effects on a helpless little ball, which perhaps explains the popularity of the sport among Republicans.
Add to all these witty observations a plot, and characters about whose fate you care, and it’s clear that Stephen McCauley is back in his element. All the better for us!
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!
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 shorn. 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
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.
What Would Madonna Do?
Usually, date a younger man.
I’ve become a recent fan of Glee. I know. I’m a little behind the times… and maybe that’s one reason why I need to date a younger man. I’m not sure how I missed the show boat, but I finally jumped on board during a recent stop in Natchez, Mississippi and I’m along for the ride… all the way to New Orleans. I really can’t help loving that man of mine.
And my timing could not have been better. Glee’s “Power of Madonna” episode–its best-reviewed and most eagerly anticipated segment to date–aired last night. After all the hype, Glee delivered the goods. Not only were the musical numbers fun and creative, but the storylines about sex, strength, confidence, independence, and individuality all worked well with the theme. I must admit, I’m a Madonna fan, but certainly not her biggest. However, watching her Rejuvination Re-Invention Tour from the front row with my best gal pal Leona back in 2004 was a life changing experience.
In last night’s episode several of the pop idol’s hits such as ”Ray of Light,” “Express Yourself,” “4 Minutes,” “What It Feels Like for a Girl,” and “Like a Prayer” were strewn throughout the story. Sue Sylvester’s spin on Madonna’s “Vogue” was a highlight. You can watch it here.
After this, what can we expect for the rest of the season? I don’t know, but I’m going to be watching to find out.
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