Category Archives: Portraits of interesting People

Provincetown Carnival 2018

Provincetown celebrated 40 years of Carnival celebrations this last Thursday on August 16th. The 2018 theme was “Mardi Gras by the Sea.” The clang and clatter of this colossal Brouhaha shook the shifting sands surrounding the tiny town sending shockwaves that could be felt all the way to the Bourne Bridge which was reported to have swung ever so slightly as a tsunami wave of unleashed frivolity passed through the ether!
I love a parade, especially when an even balance between High Drag and iron pumped muscle is on view with a piquancy of the tastefully salacious. The term, “dressed to kill” comes to mind and some of the revelers rollicking down the roadway certainly set the joint on fire which was appropriate to a sultry afternoon in August.
The pairing of Mardi Gras with Provincetown is natural for a village long revered for its outsider status even if the luxury condominium crowd threaten to homogenize the witches brew that simmers in the cauldron of history there. I am here to tell ya that the waving dance of summer heat mirage, reflecting off the sands of Ptown, can singe the straight and narrow, reshaping an innocent bystander into a Cha Cha Mama of whatever sex or persuasion.

Taffy, Frankie and Todd, all decked out in the traditional colors of Mari Gras, yellow for power, purple for justice and green for faith. These meticulous couturier gowns are designed and created by Rodney Vanderwarker AKA “Frankie” with assistance from his husband Todd Paul. Some of the details include specially designed and printed fabrics, complete color coordination of fabrics, feathers, jewels and even nail polish. It took all winter to make these divine creations, right down to the night before the parade. I wiggled my way into their lair and snapped far too many photos chronicling their metamorphosis from OK Guys into Belles of the Ball. You will see  their magical transformations in my flicker slide show connected at the bottom of this post.

 

Two handsome Genies looking for their lamp to be rubbed the right way. So, make a wish and see what you get.

These ladies and their escort are all lined up and ensconced comfortably front row center on Commercial Street at the base of McMillian Wharf. I never get to chit chat much with the crowd so I can only speculate on the message intended by their costumes, but they look to me to be into Voodoo considering the skulls and magic mojos, etc. Whatever the intent, their vibe was festive and joyous and yes, a wee bit mischievous.

The couple on the left have a stunning allure, otherwise known as, Sizzling Hot. They towered above the crowd but had no attitude except love and delight. The fellows on the right have a menacing scowl but I’ll bet they’re real pussy cats at heart.

Now, it’s not every day you come across their Imperial Majesties Josie and Nappy but when present, they lend an undisputed élan to the proceedings

I love this bunch a boys with their sexy androgyny. Ah the blush of youth!

 

Click Rodney’s kisser to see the whole show

Visiting with The Princess of Castro Street

Last March I went to visit with The Princess and lemme tell’ya she ain’t no lady! She’d like you to believe that she’s not even very nice – but that is a pose that like medieval armor creaks from age. Beneath his visor, rusted by steam from the contained tears he refuses to shed, too proud to admit defeat and let go of the beautiful fallen men of Gay San Francisco, Gay Hawaii and the world.

HRH at the Hula Palace Reunion, 2006 SF, with the actual prototype for the wings from first San Francisco production of Angels in America. Photo Tommy Khol

Le Roy, aka The Princess has retired to his cabin in the sky in the gold country of Sonora, Northern California. Lee’s new home is the prize at the end of the rainbow for a weary wonderer. It is a delightful place of comfort, peace and quiet – that is until Her Highness lets out a roar of defiance against the many injustices suffered around the world by AIDS, Trump, or what have you!

Photo by Iory Allison
The Cabin in the sky, home sweet home

photo by Iory Allison
The Princess’ Deck at the Rainbow Cabin. Notice the parade of dinosaurs on the railing.

In his mountain refuge, Lee is mulling over the past several decades of train wrecks wrought by the AIDS pandemic that struck down so many of the boys we used to play with in San Francisco in the 70’s, and for Lee, Hawaii in the 80’s as well as his home town of Los Angeles in the 90’s.

Photo by Iory Allison
A corner of the entry-way garden featuring old bowling balls, various shells and a skull, grim reminder of the way of all flesh

Lee was left holding a heavy bag of tricks, detritus from lives cut short – even in bucolic Hawaii men fell like the setting sun being called to renewal, leaving a silence that Lee would eventually fill with the records of their lives as witnessed in the art and artifacts produced by his large circle of friends and colleagues.

Photo by Iory Allison
A confusion of memories accumulating all too rapidly

Lee has always been a natural archivist preserving the signs of the times in posters, letters, photos, sculptures and general ephemera from the last four decades. These collections stemmed from his years as an arts activist, gallery director and entertainment entrepreneur, especially but not limited to the Hula Palace Salon, San Francisco. The Pride Foundation, Top Floor Gallery, San Francisco and the Kauai Mokihana festival contemporary Hawaiian Arts, the largest cultural festival in the Pacific. What started out as a collection celebrating our time in space evolved into a repository of dreams gone by and lives lived to the fullest in the arms of many lovers, men who loved men and were proud to say so.

Photo by Iory Allison
A small corner of the collection in L A before Lee’s move to Sonora

As the years passed all this tragedy took its toll, weighing Lee down with the heavy responsibility to disperse his collections now gathered at his cabin in Sonora. The ONE Archives Foundation, Gay history collections at the University of Southern California, was fitfully developing over the last decades as did other Gay archives around the country. Lee carefully monitored the inevitable dramas, waited and helped work to make ONE a reliable academic archive where he felt our history would be safe and easily accessible to the scholarly and general public.

 

The Princess as a Puritan judge in “The Salem Witch Trials,” NYC

But the task of preparing all the art and artifacts destined for ONE with all the reliving of lost loved ones was a daunting and crippling task. As luck would have it, Lee and I were in NYC in the fall of 2016 for the performance of the “Witches of Salem” at the Judson Memorial Church. Lee was playing the role of a puritan judge, go figure, I would ’a pegged him as one on the accused witches, but hey, “who am I to judge” this was Rumi’s show. Anyway, I heard Lee’s pain and I volunteered to help with the cataloging of his collections going to ONE.

Photo by Iory Allison

40th birthday party, roof deck of painter Jim Campbell in San Francisco, North Beach 1988

So, suitcase and camera in hand, off I went off to Sonora to patch a wound, twist a tourniquet and hope the blood of many men past and now dying would not drown us in sorrow. Over the space of two weeks we were able to put order to the loose pages of lives we never thought would end and now perhaps they won’t altogether disappear.

Blue Grass, HRH and Star, S F Mid 70’s

By some quirk of fate the trio in this line up are still very much amongst the living

PS, It has not been easy for me to report about my time with Le Roy this spring. I had no idea how overwhelmed I would be by the ghosts of the past rocketing out from dusty boxes and back into the light. It seems like only yesterday Lee Lee and I were riding the 45 Van Ness trolley, his myriad of bangle bracelets making cheerful jingles as he desperately gripped the leather trolley strap trying not to collapse from laughter, as we realize we were both cruising the same man who wore with pride his big hard-on beneath tight jeans – but that was way back in San Francisco of the early 70’s.

Digital collage by Iory Allison
The Apotheosis of the Princess Le Roy – Keep on truckin’!

Trans-continental interview via email between Iory Allison and The Princess of Castro Street, AKA, Leroy Mentley

        HRH at the Princess of Argyle’s retreat in Lagunitas, Forest Knolls Photo by Perez.

IA: When did you first start collecting Gay art and history material?

HRH: I learned very young from Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, that ‘there are no insignificant pieces of paper’. I started collecting in the 60’s with rock & political art from peace demonstrations, Human Be-In’s and The Fillmore Ballroom!

In 1968 I was the President of the Young Americans for Robert Kennedy at East Los Angeles City College. I helped on the campaign and collected all the political artifacts I could. I was present at the night that Kennedy won the California Primary and I collected papers from the podium which I still have. A few minutes later he was shot and murdered. This terrible moment changed my life.

I finished college and moved to San Francisco at the request of Martin Worman from the Cockettes. I have all their posters signed by Todd Trexler and other personal ephemera from the Cockettes and Angels of light shows.

I moved into the Hula Palace at 590 Castro Street and met and worked for Harvey Milk who lived across the street next to his camera store. I, of course, collected a lot of material from those days.

HRH in His Garden on Kauai, Rainbow Hat by Aunty B.

IA: What was your original intent with these materials? Is your collection held together in one group or dispersed throughout the archive?

HRH: The materials I have donated are dispersed throughout the archives by subject, name and/or organization and in my own name. Like Materials from Ken Dickmann on Gay Theatre. I have donated materials on the Cockettes, Angels of Light, Gay Men’s Theatre Collective, Theatre Rhinoceros, Gay Men’s Choir, Lilith, The Goodman Building,  The Hula Palace Salons, Pride Foundation, Eureka/Noe Valley Artist Coalition, and Top Floor Gallery.  I have also collected material from individual Gay artists and activists worldwide.

My collections include materials on political figures, like Harry Hay, Mattachine Society Elders, Harvey Milk, Paul Hardman, George Moscone. Dan White and Anita Bryant have their own files. I collected every edition of the San Francisco Chronicle for weeks after the assassinations since the story changed by the hour. They are now available for research at ONE.

Today I continue donating materials to ONE Archive at USC. I met some of the Mattachine Society Elders in the late 60’s, including Morris Knight, Steve Berman and Martin Rice when we founded the Frist Gay Student Union in the California State University System at Long Beach. Don Kilhefner & Jim Kepner started a Gay library from collected materials from their travels and other community projects, storing them in their homes, garages and car trunks. I stayed in touch with Jim and donated materials from my travels and personal collections. Finally they found a home when USC gave them an old fraternity house to store their collections. I have given hundreds  of boxes to the library and archives. ONE is the largest collection of Gay Materials in the world. It is a fun and great place to visit in Los Angeles.

        HRH at the opening night “M Butterfly.” Beverly Hills, CA. Photo by Ken Dickmann

IA: How does an individual access the material in One Archive?

HRH: On the internet at http://one.usc.edu/ located at 909 Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles 90007. The archives are administered by USC at the prestigious Doheny Library. The material is being digitized as quickly as possible by professional paid staff, plus student and community volunteers who donate time to log and categorize donations. ONE also maintains an art gallery in West Hollywood at 9007 Melrose Avenue for exhibitions and readings. I advise every one interested to Get On Their Mailing List!

IA: What is the value of Gay art and history?

When I was a Young GURL I discovered Gay artists, Oscar Wilde, Walt Whitman, Gertrude Stein, Isadora Duncan etc. whose stories gave me insight and hope.

Now our stories will be seen by researchers in the future who will write books, poems, master thesis of our time and how we moved the agenda for full equality along. From the seriousness of civil rights, AIDS activism to the silliness and struggles of our lives portrayed in our theatre, photography, film, written and visual arts.

HRH with Mrs. Coretta Scott King at The Venetian Hotel for a speech to AARP.

Photo, Pamela Goodlow

IA: Who do you intend to share your collections with?

HRH: The world! It excites me every time I see a demonstration somewhere in the world for Human Rights where a Rainbow Flag pops up in the crowd. I thank Lynn Segerblom for her rainbow design and Gilbert Baker for his endless promotion of the flags that were originally made at The TOP Floor Gallery by the  Eureka/Noe Valley Artists Coalition at the 330 Grove Pride Gay Center.

Painting by Jim Campbell The Gay Pride Center at 330 Grove Street, S F

IA: Why did you choose to donate to The One Archive Institute?

HRH: I guess because I grew up in East Los Angeles and had met the founders early on and appreciated their commitment to the Gay Community. However I do donate to other archives, duplicates and copies. I found it profound that the day ONE Archive officially opened its doors at USC was the anniversary of NAZI burning down the Gay Center in Berlin. That taught me it is important not to have everything in one place or just on-line. Our struggle is not over.

IA: What are the important Gay Archives in the USA?

HRH: New York City Library and the Library of Lincoln Center have collections from Cockette Martin Worman and Cockette Rumi Missabu. Other archives can be found in Chicago, Kentucky, Boston, New Orleans, and San Francisco. Many cities now have Gay centers, museums, libraries and galleries. I am sure there are many others big and small. I know there are collections at city libraries, colleges and universities like UCLA and California State College at Northridge. Many schools now have departments dedicated to research and education for sexual minorities. I encourage everyone to collect and share their treasures and stories where ever they can.

HRH & Photographer Dan Nicoletta

IA: Have all of the individuals in your collection passed on or are some still living?

HRH: We have lost many Angels, but some of us have survived and still creating new art, new politics, books, etc., I just donated Dan Nicoletta’s new book of photography “Faggots Are Fantastic” to ONE. The good news is that young activist and artists are creating new movement and exciting art today.

The Gay Movement is alive and brings new issues into mainstream culture every day. I currently donate materials as I find them; I am not waiting until I am dead to pass information and art on to the archives. Put ONE and your local archives on your mailing list! Why wait?

Hula Palace Salon & Cockette Reunion, 2003 SF, with Fans (one cute and two folding) Photo Dan Nicolletta

IA: Is it “OK” for an individual to donate their own historical and artistic material to an archive or is that just an ego trip?

HRH: Of course, it is an ego trip. All Queens want to be famous, even though I am just a Princess. Yet I believe it’s an obligation to the future. It’s not just your ego you are polishing!

IA: What is the ultimate meaning of the AIDS pandemic to you personally?

HRH: It is horribly overwhelming; by 1984 when I stopped counting I had lost over 500 friends, associates and lovers. Not to mention Gay Bashing deaths and assassinations. Every time I open a box I rescued from a friend’s home or dumpster in the street, I find a life well lived filled with memories and lost joy.

On the other hand, adversity has its benefits and brought out the best in the community and eventually the nation. We still have problems because the pandemic is not over. We need a renewed effort worldwide. For many in power, diseases like this, kill all the right people. In 2017 we have become complacent with our first world HIV treatments and have neglected everyone else around the world. Nothing is perfect but we can be so willfully ignorant when the boot is not dropped at our own door. Let me show you a World AIDS Day Facebook posting of the Gay Men’s Choir to see the impact AIDS has had.

IA: How have you coped with the loss of so many lovers and friends?

HRH: I was eating at a famous Mexican restaurant in Los Angeles “El Coyote” when I was informed my sweetheart Ron had just died, I did not stop eating till I gained his body weight. If I had done drugs or alcohol I’d be dead.

I am amazed, I am alive, 1. How, was I not infected? 2. as the emotional impact of losing one or two friends a week turned into one or two or five a day. Then Divine passed, although Divine did not die with HIV, the other four that day did. I was living on the beach on Kauai and can’t say how many days I wanted to slip into the ocean and keep on swimming out to join the party on the other side. Instead I became an activist creating END/AIDS my version of ACT Up on Kauai. It stands for Educational Net Work Dialoging AIDS. It seemed like I was the only one OUT on Kauai. It was then I reunited with my old friend Martin Rice who had worked on the Cal/State Gay Student Union. With his guidance we created Kauai’s first Gay Organization, Lambda Aloha. This led us to the statewide campaign for Same Sex Marriage. With this new energy and two wonderful men, Derick Tomlin and Bill Human we created Malamapono Kauai’s AIDS Project, changing the entire political and cultural environment on the island. I became the Hawaii State Public Health Educator for the island which placed me on the Governor’s Committee on AIDS and eventually i went to Washington D.C. to Chair the National Community Constituency Group at the NIH which was President Bill Clinton’s civilian review board for all clinical studies into HIV AIDS. Malamapono means ‘many blessings’ in Hawaiian. They are all gone now.

On a personal note, I started writing a book starting with silly Hula Palace stories, they made me laugh and then I realized if I didn’t write and preserve the memories of my loved ones both political and cultural, their lives would never be known. It is important to me to say their names. I felt I owed them that effort since I survived and felt so much guilt. I had never considered myself a writer, but I had stories and with the help of many friends, 30 years later I was able to publish “The Princess of Castro Street.”

        Nathan Kalama, Buffy St. Marie with Lee, then curator of  Kauai Museum

IA: What is the value of art within the pain of life?

HRH: My first time visiting MOMA in New York 1971, I walked in and immediately I saw Picasso’s “Guernica.” It was painfully spellbinding. As I walked up the stairs I came across Monet’s Water Lilies. A well placed bench caught me as I became weak in the knees, collapsed and sobbed like a baby.  Art & good curating is like that!

Art if true and honest is a reflection of the inner soul of an artist and it will resonate with your own soul; it is a personal gift to those who can see beneath the paint, the words, lyrics, make-up, costumes and celluloid images. Everything else is decoration.

One such story of resonance: I was on my way to Honolulu to attend the Hawaii Governor’s Commission on HIV/AIDS on which I served. A friend called and asked me to dinner, afterwards, he invited me to his home for conversation plus wine and because he had a gift for me. He said he had had a dream that he was to give me a work of art and then he unveiled a gold flaked painting encrusted with black pearls, an icon of Saint Anthony. I asked him where he found the beautiful icon, he said from someone I probably did not know on Kauai named Justin. Justin was my long time sweetheart.

IA: Is the pursuit of creating art worth the effort and struggle?

HRH: Without art and love there is no reason to be alive!

HRH at Hindu Festival of Flowers, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco 1973, Photo, Dan Nicoletta

 

 

 

PTown 2017

Photo by Anita Baglaneas, Rowes Wharf Sea Grille, Boston Aug 23

Mr. Iory blasted off from his home port in Boston’s famed Fenway neighborhood and boogied on down the road for a week of nonsense in Ptown. I timed my visit to coincide with that notorious celebratory conflagration called Carnival; this year’s theme was Gods and Godesses.

But every day of my precious week before all that La La transpired I trundled over to Herring Cove Beach and dove into the watery embrace of Aphrodite, paddled around and listened to the Mermaids sing. Another big adventure for me was peddling my bike on the trails through the green forests of the Province Lands. I  huffed and puffed up some of the steeper climbs and if truth be known I had to walk the bike up heart break hill but you know what, at age 68, that’s ok.  Once at the top, the view is sublime, looking out at the pitch pines and the dense oak groves parading over the undulating landscape stretching all the way to the surrounding shore with the  ocean reaching out to the distant horizon. Because of plenty of rain this year – Thank you Goddess – the shad bushes were in full bloom and their perfumed scent mixed with the briny clean air that can only come from being sixty  miles out to sea.  

I stayed at the charming Shire Max Inn, the last affordable guest house in Ptown, thank you Dr. Bob and Denis, where I met or re-met a friendly bunch a boys – that’s sort of a stretch but hey, we are still young at heart – who wisely frequent that delightful  hostelry. Since I was a boy in the fifties I have loved the carnival crowds of Ptown dancing on the razor edge of the ridiculous and the sublime. One example of which, this year, was a tattered and hastily constructed booth plopped down amidst the benches in front of Town Hall. This improvised venue sported a sign with a scrawl reading, “Bad Advice.” For a mere pittance, two motley creatures were dispensing just that, outrageous suggestions, to anyone brave enough to consult them. Depending on the whim of the moment they suggested, “Empty out your purse and hand over all your drugs.” or, “Dump the wife and run away with me to Las Vegas.” This advice may sound a bit lame but the first victim was a grandmother from Boise and the second an enormous lug who looked to be a truck driver from the Bronx, NYC.

Anyway, the big event of Carnival is the parade and this riveting subject is the body of my report and what a bunch ‘a bodies that was! There is only one way to proceed from here and that is to present you with the visual facts of the matter. But remember it was not La Trump who invented alternative facts, no, that distinction falls squarely on the broad shoulders of the Broads who ain’t, as in drag queens and all the fantasy figures of Gaydom who wanna put on a costume and become a different man, woman or child.

As a disclaimer – I did not gather the names or data of the subjects of any of my pictures, so I have filled in the blanks with my own suppositions as to their identity, occupation or species of the folks in question.

Captain Jack’s Wharf, August 17, the calm before all the hoopla of “Gods and Goddesses” Carnival 2017

All Photos by Iory Allison

Many old wharfs of Ptown used to extend out into the bay all along the long curve of the inward shore, now only a few of these still exist. Captain Jack’s Wharf, seen here against the jumble of “cottages” of the west end, was first constructed by Jackson Williams in 1897 and since then has survived both natural and human storms throughout its long history while providing joy, delight and shelter for a variety of owners and tenants  

Arjyra Stedman’s 1986 article in the Cape Cod Compass tells us that Capt. Jack’s was developed by Manuel Williams, Jackson’s eldest son. Manuel used the pier to unload, smoke and pickle the various kinds of fish caught by his small fleet of fishing boats. His boats gathered their catch in the weirs or net traps that were strung on poles sunk into Province Town bay. Some of the shacks were also used by the related fishing businesses of: caulkers, blacksmiths, spar carpenters, riggers, painters, etc.

After the decline of weir trap fishing in the 1920’s and ‘30’s Capt. Jack’s slowly evolved into rental studios catering to artists and summer visitors. During this time it went through a checkered history harboring several nefarious enterprises such as Sally Nye’s bar “The Circus Room” also rumored to be a brothel.

In 1935 Dr. Hiebert bought Capt. Jack’s and after a scornful and censorious three years his wife Emily, dramatically transformed “Whoopee Wharf” with  the no plumbing, no electricity, rooms into charming rental cabins  maintaining and embellishing  the haphazard jumble of its architecture.

One of the more famous writers to reside at Capt. Jack’s was Tennessee Williams who is said to have worked on “The Glass Menagerie” there in the early 1940’s. Tennessee’s lament is entirely appropriate to the place considering the play’s repeated reference to “gentleman callers” of mythic proportions who inevitable “got away” – not so different from the circumstance of cruising and dating in Ptown today.    

The Fire float standing ready to convey the gym toned Gods and Goddesses of Carnival 2017 through the crowds of cheering revelers up to Mt. Absurdity where all will slosh down the sauce and breathe fire! Oh my god / dess!!

Pinning the monkeys to the bar, a place to recover from the Doom Temple next door

Don’cha just love a man with a beard? Watch out or he’ll catch you on his trident and serve you up to his entourage of Mer-people who know no bounds.

See I didn’t make it up, they actually had the balls to call this event “Gods and Goddesses” go figure, the results, which you are about to experience, are sizzling in the extreme. 

A corner of Province Town Hall with the Pilgrim Monument in the background snagging wisps of morning fog before the heat of the day burns away the evening’s veils of modesty.

Here is the trooper of all time. This handsome darling was fully dressed, well sort of; his net body stocking revealed every nuance of his silver painted hunkiness. I snapped him setting up Café Bubala at ‘bout 10: am and after all was said and done, I returned to have some grub ‘bout 8:00 pm when he was still charming the crowds, slinging the hash and delivering unspilt cocktails! This boy deserves the waiters Oscar for superb service!!

Why is it that the only glamourous people left on the globe earth are Drag Queens? Thank you Goddess for sending us your Daughters of Grace!

Love these boys’ hairy pecks. Don’cha know sparks fly when these minions of Neptune rub together. Can you see that their net / scale shoulder make-up is actually iridescent, WOW. I especially love their scrolling and spiked crowns.

Here we have La Grande Medusa of the three Gorgon Sisters fame. Wait ‘till you see her sibilant siblings slithering down the byways. But watch out ‘cause this girl will make you stiff as a board but not bored stiff ‘cause after just one glance – when you are rock hard – she has her way with all wayward wanderers.

 Sibling number two of the Gorgon Sisters, the lady Stheno. Don’t look directly at her or she’ll give you a perpetual hard-on. Of course, some of the Ptowner’s must have stared long ‘cause those boys are pole vaulting all over town!

The lady Euryale may look calm and serene but boy does she pack a powerful wallop!  Hand on tummy, who has she devoured?

And here they are in all their glory, the three gorgon sisters, Medusa, Stheno and Euryale. Tongues wag when they go by. Behind them is the stone tower said to have been their first victim in Ptown, a pilgrim father whose proportions were mighty.

The Lady Euryale licks her lips in anticipation of chowing down on her flanking boy-toys while Wonder Boy / Woman foolishly pauses to pose for Popper-Ozzie, shirking his duties to arrest and quell the forces of evil.

Whatever the short comings of Wonder Boy / Woman it ain’t in the looks department, have you ever seen a cuter smile, not to mention the pumped, pecs, biceps and thighs, Ooo-la-la!

Mata-Hairy spies on the carnival carousers from his sequestered nook at Patio Café gathering beautifying secrets for Sephora on Rodeo Drive where he is the cosmetician to the stars.  

A bunch a’ bruisers in leather straps and glitter, now there’s a combo!

Feathers, skulls, shells and pearls make these two beauties shine!

Darling! Too cute for words!

You go Mama! Knock’em dead and leave ‘em laughing.

Athena with her sphinx and attendant centurion – I‘m sure if the Roman legions had had sun glasses we would still all be speaking Latin.

I’ll have the Cab Sauv, please.

Snakes were a popular theme at Carnival this year. These guys are oiled up and ready to go.

These three beauties are the graces of Carnival, now, which one is the face that launched a thousand ships?

Mom and the kids rock and roll with the best of ‘em

I wish his hunkiness would look at me like this when I was without my camera. This is definitely his, “promise me the world look” and I for one would believe anything he told me. The answer is yes! 

Boy does he look great in swirls and feathers!

Pumped Daddies spread their wings. Fly me to the Moon…

So this is what Tutankhamun looks like in the flesh, no wonder they gave him such a swell send off.

Now that’s great make-up! A little bit of glamour can cause a big bunch a joy!!

Here we see a few of the Trojan horse contingent, part of their hiding horse can be glimpsed in the background – all made from tongue depressors – those Gay boys and girls are so handy and clever!

And this is how it was in Olympus by the Sea; everybody’s in on the act.

What can I say except, Va-va-voom!!

Isn’t it amazing how leopard never goes out of fashion? But what’s with the raven perched on her head?  With that hairy chest she looks to me like Bette Midler after whore moan therapy.

The guy in black sortta reminds me of Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein (guess it’s the hood) but he is actually Kevin Devaney on his national tour (Instagram.com/kevindevaneypoet) and as his address reads he’s a poet. I found him on my early morning tour all set up in front of Town hall way before the crush. Kevin creates “custom written street poems” plunked out on his compact vintage Corona perched on a folding office that all ingeniously folds up and packs away in his van when he is of a mind to trundle on down the road.

Kevin writes “Custom Written Street Poems” right there in front of you or you can buy one of his “published” books. I bought a match book edition, four in a box, 2 x 1 ½” entitled, “A Collection of tiny poem books about sea creatures.”

A manatee poem book.

for Eland,

Can you imagine how odd it would be

to be the first to see a sea bound manatee?

if you saw one for the first time, what thought might cross your mind:

would you think them cruel or kind, this rare & wonderful nautical find,

Or would you nab your sailor pals and leaning hard against the bow

yell out: “MERMAID” clear and loud?

Kevin Devaney 10 -7- 15

It takes two jesters to mitigate Melania Trump’s scowl. It will take an army of outrage to can the husband.

My vote for perfection goes to the man in gold and feathers

It takes two to tango and I like to see’em at it!

This is what’cha call “looking askance.” The fellow on the left looks to me like the notorious Voodoo priest “Mmalcatdd” or  “meet me after last call at the dick dock .” and although he is hard to resist, watch out ‘cause “Meet Me” had so many tricks up his sleeves the authorities now  only allow him to wear feathers.  

With withering hauteur the green faced Montezuma guards his gaggle of innocents from the prying eye of the camera. 

Eyes right! Ready front, Sir! A salute to the beauty of youth

Leopard Lizzy has snagged two more handsome hunks on her relentless prowl ‘round the parade

Can you see beyond the pink glitter beard into his sparkling green eyes?   But who is the creature in the background? 

Love this crew of Kon Tiki warrior gods. When I was a boy in the fifties, I was fascinated by the beatnik street artists of Ptown carving wooden Tiki charms, stringing them on leather straps to hang around your neck and selling these mojos to mystified tourists, a sortta Thor Woldson Kon Tiki phenomenon. 

Ah the salad days of youth, this boy will get no dressing down from me for his dressing up, au contraire I say hip hip hooray! But which god is he? Wish Bone, Green Goddess dressing, of course. 

Anibus, jackal of the necropolis, guardian of the dead, weighs the hearts of deceased souls against the feather of Ma’at. If ancient Egyptians had iridescent cellophane they would have wrapped their mummies in the stuff!

Ta ta, ciao for now!

Miss Richfield gets the last word – why are we not surprised?

If you haven’t had enough click here to go to the full photo shoot