January 1- 7, 2004
naked city
'03? '04? Oh, #%*@!
 Fanning the flamers: Isn't it time we let the Queer Eye stars burn out?  |
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The year that was and the year that will be, at least in A.D.'s world.
I thought 2003 would be quiet: a nice war, a few local elections. Then, boom, I wind up knee-deep in a spider hole, worrying about moonwalking child molesters and the astronomical costs of Trista's wedding, all while comparing my milkshake to yours. So I'll strap on non-rose-colored night-vision lenses, like Fox News in Iraq or Paris Hilton on all fours, and run down the sorry trends and loose ends of '03.
Straight and Narrow: In ceasing my druggie/boozy ways, I found alternatives in SoleFood's no-carb Green Tea and GNC's ENADAlert. Yee-hah.
Media Speak: Having spent too much time watching Fox and Court TV, I say, not proudly, that I can name that tune -- that is, the theme music connected to each repetitious "breaking" news bit (gear-grinding metal for Laci Peterson, tin-hop for Jacko). I've been inundated with the media's overuse of trendy words that are as uninteresting as what they stand for. Never use "punk'd," "bootylicious" (now in the Oxford English Dictionary), "nizzle," "flash mob," "Bennifer" or "blog" around me again. I, in turn, promise to never use "ancient-to-the-future." Tara Reid, FHM, film critics who write like Pauline Kael and Gyllenhaals Jake and Maggie are over. Allen Iverson, "The Answer," is over, unless the question is, "What lousy basketball player must get his head out of his ass?" P. Diddy, in rap terms, is done. Conversely, P. Diddy the "Broadway actor" is not. Magazines that rely on big pictures and vodka ads are over. Most of all, never refer to that most desperate of movements: Friendster. If you're that unappetizing, don't advertise.
The New Black: Not white? Fuck, it is. At least according to the windows along Fifth Avenue and The New York Times, which describes the abundance of "ivory, cream and oatmeal" as signs that people are yearning for innocence, color and the fiscal security to prove they have money to dry-clean their clothes after every wearing. Me? My new black is charcoal -- not the tone, the actual material.
Queer-Eye Ball-ing: Having been metrosexual before David Beckham could bend "it," I've grown weary of gay men sashaying through sartorial matters. Even Michael Flocker, author of The Metrosexual Guide to Style, told me Queer Eye-ing is overblown. "I know plenty of gay men who dress horribly," he says. Funny true story: I got a phone call from Bravo to come audition for the "pop culture guy" part before they figured out I was straight. I sent those bitches packing.
I Had a Mahvelous Time: The Elsa Schiaparelli gala at Philadelphia Museum of Art, the pre-opening dice-roll ball at Borgata, the opening soiree for maternity store Belly, the National Constitution Center unveiling (before we hit that Supreme Court Justice in the head) and Nicole Cashman's b-day at 32° were the best parties of the year. Why? They drew the unlikeliest crowds from their likeliest nesting places. And Gene London showed up (to Schiaparelli, at least).
Love, Philadelphia Style: If you thought David and Liza were having it rough, take a look at the public separations of CBS-3's Alycia Lane (whose divorce just came through) and NBC 10's Monique Braxton, who blabbed to anyone who would listen about her marital strife. While these two stations vie for the distinction of having the creepiest newscasters in the history of televised journalism, Lane has gone on Angelo Cataldi's radio show searching for a date and had her measurements listed by Stu. Surely there's a dating reality show for these ladies: Which anchorwoman will find love first? You can get reality-show locals, like Gervase Peterson, in as consultants to give them something to do other than be everywhere I am.
And a Few Predictions for '04: Marah and its bassist, Jamie Mahon, will become Jack White/Von Bondies-type battlers, making up in time for a tour with Oasis.… The Book Trader and A.K.A. Records, locked in a battle for A.K.A.'s Second Street address, will join forces for four floors of culture.… Stephen Starr, who does not yet have a Francophiliac sidewalk café, will take over Bleu from Neil Stein, too.… After hearing enthusiastic crowd reactions to Y100/The Khyber's dinner-hour Iggy Pop show, Sara Sherr -- who recently sent out a "Plain Parade RIP" post that bitched about nonattending, un-boozing, water-sipping jerk-offs who threaten the existence of her Doc Watson's nights -- will start two-band bills, each one playing for half an hour, that finish in time for The O'Reilly Factor.… In the spirit of AmericanBrandstand.com's list of businesses cited in hip-hop songs during 2003 (Mercedes got the most), local rapper Baby Blak will take to throwing "Joan Shepp" and "Tastykake" into the mix.… CDs by locals Nite Lights, Kandy Whales, Chief Kamachi, Chromelodeum, V.I.P. and Lady Alma will spruce up the winter.… Mere self-deprecation will be out, self-defying will be in.
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