When you live in the Coachella Valley as I do, Jeffrey Sanker’s White Party is the yearly event that causes the most stir, buzz and uproar around gay Palm Springs. I do consider myself a pioneer of sorts when it comes to the circuit party’s humble beginnings. Living in Atlanta during the mid-90s when the circuit started hitting hard across the lands and parties with themes rose from the foundation of such solid events as Hotlanta River Expo, Morning Party in Fire Island and the original White Party in South Beach gave me access to the hottest events and circuit circuses. I worship those carefree, responsibility-free days of yesteryear. And have the pictures of guilt and shamelessness to prove it.
(This guy in the underwear was doing promotion for one of the weekend parties by walking up and down the beach looking so damn good. Great way to catch attention for your event. Our friend Kip was quite taken by him. I think he ended up in our shower over the weekend!)
Our group of friends were very unique and didn’t care about much of anything other than being together as much as we could and having the very BEST time we could at any given moment. We were quite reckless. Do the math… We had a good time. Like a kid in a candy store. Oh, the Friday ascension and Sunday therapy sessions. I loved my friends deeply and shared more than most good friends do during a lifetime. But as crews and cliques go, time and distance pulls people apart and you are left with the memories. Make them good! When life is as short as it is, living it as long as you can is the most important thing you could ever do. Oh, the memories…
(Yes, that’s me on the left without nairy a hair on my smooth body. I was 25-years-naive with quite the tight torso on me. The real story is unfolding behind us. Oh, I wish I could share that one. Dig the accommodations!)
This one time our group traveled south from Hotlanta to Pensacola Beach for their Memorial Day Weekend blowout is one that brings the giggles. It’s where the gays go for Memorial Day if you live in the south. Well, unless you live on the edge and find yourself booking a sling in Chicago for International Mr. Leather at the same time. Make your choice! There were about eight of us sharing a suite at the Pensacola Grand and living out of suitcases that contained our matching jeans and various ensembles we would wear in sync all weekend plus other sundries we tucked away for the trip. Oh, we had a big time.
Friday evening was a party called Abracadabra. I had on this pair of hot pants made of “cracked ice” which is essentially a fabric with a glitter design already pressed into the cloth. I wasn’t afraid of putting on a slinky pair of go-go shorts pulled up my chocolate starfish and dance the night away. Still have a pair or two for a crazy night out, or in. I found my way atop a platform speaker with Todd and we owned the room. It was one amazing night. However, throughout the evening Patrick or John would come over to us and worry us about this or that which caused me to sit down on the speaker and try communicating with them each time over the loud music. It wasn’t just once. FYI, if you need two parts to make something work make sure you have both before trying. Just saying… Meow! Come have some cereal, kitty.
When we left the party and returned to the hotel I climbed out of the car last. Patrick turned to me and said, “What’s going on with you?” I was doubled-over holding my two legs as if I were in agony. Each time I had sat on the speaker I sat in glitter. My legs were more shinny than a pair of Danskin shimmer tights. I just replied in a voice of late-night weakness, “I’m just so ashamed.” They all turned to look at me and we all laughed our asses off at my ridiculousness soon finding our way back to the room where I rinsed the entire night off down the drain.
The next morning we cruised and perused up and down the beach while I blew a whistle as leader of the pack pulling my circuit squirrels along the sand. Hey, someone has to be the bitch. It was very easy for us, rather them, to be distracted. It’s nothing but socializing, squirt guns filled with God knows what in them (I knew! Gee, calm down.) and recovery from the shady evening prior. Picture it! Sandy beaches, calm ocean waters and sexy LGBTQ with skimpy swimsuits and drag ensembles having the grandest time. It’s one exciting fun-filled weekend and must be explored to appreciated. And this was back then. I have little idea what the kids are doing these days. Having a good time, no doubt.
LIVE YOUR LIFE. NO ONE ELSE WILL. X
