La Vie En Rose

On Location with Ruven Afanador and Dita Von Teese

From Ruven Afanador's 2001 master study on matadors, "Torero."

Ruven Afanador is a master photographer, and being able to sit just a few feet behind him while he worked this weekend was a rare experience I won't easily forget. Towering in both height and presence, the Colombian-born lensman is one of those few individuals who commands every detail of a production with such resolve that even the usually equally resolute Dita Von Teese, the focus of Ruven's lens Saturday afternoon, submitted to a nude lip and blue-black pointed talons.
Ruven grew up obsessed with beauty pageantry and Richard Avedon, and those influences breathe through his work, whether it's the matadors or flamenco dancers he spectacularly captured in his two pictorial tomes, 2001's "Torero" (an image from that book seen above since we respectfully refrained from shooting onset that day) or last fall's "Mil Besos" (with introductions by John Galliano and Diane Von Furstenberg, to give you a sense of his hold), or in his captivating fashion editorials.
This shoot, with its nearly four hours in makeup and hair, was for Spain's mass-circulation mag Yo Dona (and I benefited with plenty fodder for our beauty book), but, really, there was an underlying sense that all this was more than about that.
Though there was a small crew in the shadows on set Saturday, there was an intimacy between photographer and subject, a trust between two artists who were willing to push on, that was electric. Dita held her own in positions for a length of time that had the crew marveling (not to mention inspired to get ourselves to pilates and yoga toute suite). Ruven oversaw everything--the super-high Elizabethan-cum-Mellificent hair, the extra-long and thickly inked brows and lid liner, the wardrobe of sheer Fendi, corseted Dolce & Gabbanas and safety-pinned, ruffled and crystallized Jose Castro (a Barcelona rising designer who will undoubtedly die when he sees these shots).
Ruven rightly let Dita have her input when it came to the looks. After all, having vision is knowing when to step aside.

The Big Pink Romance Paris

Robbie Furze of The Big Pink gives it up at the Casino Nouveau.

Of all my trips to Paris, I never managed to catch a live gig. So I was determined to venture out of the cozy apartment and into the drizzle last night to see The Big Pink at the Nouveau Casino, a nightclub in the 8th.
My quick review online reaped one after another glowing, these are the Next-Big-Thing blurbs, not in the least pointing out last year's NME Philip Hall Radar Award for best new act. One London critic even called their debut album, A Brief History, "a modern masterpiece." Well, alright then.
Besides, my name was on the list, so I figured it would be rude not to show up. L.A. pal Leopold Ross did me the courtesy. We'd run into him the night before at Hotel Amour with his gal and fellow collaborator in IO Echo, Joanna Gikis--our former shopgirl in the Silverlake A+R store, before she cut out to pursue the music career. Working, too, it appears since she would be missing the TBP gig, having to head back to London the following morning to record.

Headliners, The Big Pink went on at 9:30, crazy early by my experience in L.A., London, NYC, Madrid, hell, anywhere but here. But that wouldn't be the only quirk of a Paris rock nightclub I'd soon enough learn.
The band went right into what was an intense 40-minute set of shoe-gazing white noise pop, mostly songs of romance--gone good, gone awry, long gone and never far away. Usually don't have much patience for this nouvea kind of stuff. But these guys are good. Frontman Robbie Furze's look notwithstanding, the sound evoked late nights long ago in similarly sized clubs seeing Echo and The Bunnymen, Happy Mondays, Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine...music their mums were probably listening to when they were scarcely out of the womb.
Robbie, on guitar and lead vocals, and Milo Cordell, on synth, comprise The Big Pink, and a rotating cast of touring musicians round out the set. Leopold is on bass, and on the kit behind them is the dynamic, leather HotPants-clad Akiko Matsuura. (Someone give this chick a fashion editorial!)

Akiko Matsuura and Leopold Ross

Individually, they have impressive CVs (and lineage: Milo's pop is producer Denny Cordell, a.k.a. the man behind Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale.") Beside's IO Echo, Leo's includes work with Korn, Rancid and Grace Jones, with whom he cowrote her most recent album, "Devil in My Life." It was at her Hollywood Bowl show last summer where we last caught Leo performing. With his brother Atticus, he co-composed the score for the The Book of Eli, and served as guitarist and engineer on the Twilight soundtrack. He and Robbie and Milo have been friends since age five or so, he says, so accepting their invitation to tour was a no brainer.
Collectively, Robbie, Milo, Keek and Leo make for an entertaining foursome on stage, with plenty of hot pink spotlights to boot. And the usually stoic Paris crowd responded in a way that even the band's lovely tour manager was surprised to see.

Star Attraction: Akiko "Keek" Matsuura

Post-show we did the requisite backstage toast with nasty Kronenbergs. The club was already filling with the smell of disinfectant cleaner as the female bartenders madly scrubbed down the place--even as a few patrons begged for another drink. It wasn't even 11! Never experienced such a thing.
We crossed the way to a bar, where Robbie humbly and enthusiastically talked music composition like a true fan. He was set to DJ at 1 at an afterhours, before the entire lot of them--including a batch of British groupies--got back on the bus at 4 for a show tonight in Antwerp (and I, as you now know--see below if not, had l'incident). They were in Munich only the night before. Ah, the glamorously hamster life of a rock star!
Will catch up with them again at Coachella in April.

That Post-Show Glow: Leopold Ross and Robbie Furze

Just Mugged.

Yes, Darlings. As much as I do NOT like to share the unpleasant side of life with you all, I am compelled with telling you about the mugging I underwent just now. Andy left for L.A. this a.m., so I've already given him the details via iChat (and he wanted to know what the heck I was doing out this hour. It's 4ish a.m.! Taking pics of young Frenchie kids, mind you.) The cab left me two blocks from my pal's apartment. No big deal, I thought since it was the same the last several nights with Mr. Griffith.
Then, out of no where, as these things always are, some guy appeared and tried to rip my bag from my arm. My gold metallic Clare Vivier bag with my life in it--yes, the iPhone, the Leica, the MAC lipstick, the notebook and Muji pen, and the wacky fox fur pointy hat I've had since junior high that I brought on this trip.
Little did this idiot know that his target had just spent the last hour schooling whomever was listening (mostly Brits in Paris for the The Big PInk show) about X. One of the best bands. Ever.
Huh?, you ask? Well, suffice it to say, at the instance of the mugging, when I didn't fully realize what was happening during those the first two seconds, the new Chipewas I got for this trip got a "kick" out of the moment. I'd also been talking Grace Jones earlier in the eve with Leopold Ross, the guitarist for TBP who'd written a good part of her recent album and performed with her the last time I saw him, at the H'wood Bowl. So there was a big Grace roar in my response to the mugger's action.
It was not pretty, I'm sure. My Grace face. My boot.

My bag was not taken.
Nothing inside was taken.

In fact, I'd like to think, the only thing taken this uncivilized morning in Paris is this idiot's sense of self. He WILL think twice the next time he thinks mugging is a good idea. Admittedly, I sit here, my left palm bruised, my left knee bruised, red and skinned, and recall the alarmed look at on his face at his realization that he just came upon an X fan from L.A. who was not about to let go of her new gold purse. OK, so maybe I was just some fluke, an accident who was just mad crazy, nothing about where I was from, or who rocks my vie. But I am comforted in knowing "how" he "learned his lesson" (track 2).

I write as "Under the Big Black Sun" blares on and my Chipewas stand nearby. Love being of the world, but love being a citizen of the dying Roman empire this minute, too, and wish I were there right now...

Happy Birthday Mon Amour!

Heaven on Earth: Sunday shop at the Bastille farmer's market.

Today we finally get to interrupt the trade show-a-rama of the recent days in Paris to celebrate the momentous occasion of Andy's birthday. He's cringing over all my declarations. But if one doesn't celebrate the small and grand milestones, then one is not living. And celebrate we will today as we dash around his favorite Paris spots (yes, that will include the Muji store and some secret spot for Belon oysters).
So...HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDY!

Do Not Miss: Nymphenburg Wonderland inside J.F. Chen's H'wood Cave

Nymphenburg "Essentials" by Patrick Muff

As we prep for our annual buying trip to Paris for the Maison&Objet show, I'm reminded of Nymphenburg and the grand, even modern display the 248-year-old porcelain house will likely have at one of the exposition halls.
Specifically, the dramatic spectacle that J.F. Chen has staged at his cavernous studio near Hollywood. As much artist as he is antiques dealer, Mr. Chen has carefully created a wondrous wonderland with Nymphenburg porcelain creatures and crucifixes, dried leaves culled from the forest and rocks and trees, bizarre antiques and gothic furnishings, and all to announce his entry as purveyor of the brand, specifically its new jewelry collection, in L.A.

Nymphenburg creatures and guest jeweler Patrick Muff on show.

The Nymphenburg estate, outside of Munich, is still owned by the Bavarian royal family, the Wittelsbachs. It's the family archives that provided such a rich source for jewelry designer Patrik Muff, enlisted to reimagine a few of its iconic talismans--angel wings, skulls and crosses--into an elegantly edgy 18-piece collection called "Essentials." Among the sources: A lifelike skull by Franz Ignaz Gunther from 1756, that was also on view among other white and black porcelain figures.

Patrik, a charming tall figure who did his best to communicate with us in his token English, pointed out the pendants trimmed in silver, gold and diamonds. The porcelain is as white as it is, he explained, because of the water of the Seine, which borders the estate and its workshops. The clay is then kept in the cellar for up to two years before it's painstakingly shaped and finished into the exquisite figurines and, now, jewelry bearing the Nymphenburg brand. Patrik's collection runs from $350 to $8,000.

A gorgeous live Barn Owl the night of the opening last month.

The night of the opening party last month, a surprisingly glam affair, we were treated to special lighting and music and a menagerie of live ravens, owls and hawks (and their gloved handlers, of course). It was like a dream.
It all comes to an end at the end of the month, or at least this week, so play hookie and see it before it's gone. Or call and beg Mr. Chen to extend the installation. It's worth the visit.

J.F. Chen is at 941 N Highland Ave. 2nd floor, Los Angeles, CA 90038. 323-655-6310.

Premiere: Hubby's CoTOUR, the Movie

First Stop: The birds singin' at Barnsdale Park

The magical mystery tour through a path in L.A. of artist Bettina Hubby finally comes to the screen this Saturday, Jan. 23, at a very special afternoon event at the Outpost for Contemporary Art.
"Hubby's CoTOUR" was a 10-stop bus tour, from Barnsdale Art Park to the Vista Theater and Cheetah's Strip Club to Chinatown and the late outpost of A+R Silverlake, all locations that defined this multi-media artist's sense of self and place. Each stop was defined by the custom-made collage of "couture" looks Bettina crafted and the wild range of performance provided by her merry band of collaborators.
The day-long adventure in October 2008 was mind-blowing even among those of us who had been privvy to the process (read and view all the pics in LVER archives). And this Saturday she is finally debuting the film, made with filmmaker/photographer Tyler Hubby, as part of a presentation on her work, specifically the art and craft of clothing and how it serves as medium to her dialogue on history, politics and social mores.

Artist Bettina Hubby

Bettina's next collaborative work focuses on marriage, and it will undoubtedly be one for the record books. She is currently seeking engaged couples to participate in this next multi-media, multi-collaborator, multi-platform affair to remember. Applicants should go to Get Hubbied to participate.

In the meantime, check out her talk and film at 3 p.m. this Saturday, the Outpost for Contemporary Art, 1268 N. Avenue 50, Los Angeles, 90042. (323) 982-9461.

Photos Courtesy of HubbyCo.

Peewee's Big Adventure Returns!

There are many reasons why I adore Andy, and the latest was surprising me with tickets to see one of my cult favorites, Peewee Herman on his highly anticipated return to the world of the living.
Highly anticipated, that is, for the many fans, all adults of a certain age, who turned up at downtown's Club Nokia last Tuesday for the second night of the run (through Feb. 7), as they apparently have, night after night since then, clad in slim check suits and white loafers (that Thom Browne so ripped off) and clutching Peewee lunchboxes and dolls.
"Don't you have a doll?" Andy asked, recalling the stories of Peewee paraphernalia I received during the 1980s run of the "Playhouse" TV show.
"In storage, and in the original box," I sniffed. "Unopened."
Nearly three decades after his debut on the Groundlings stage (and 19 years since that ill-fated arrest for a private act in a not-so-private Florida porn theater), the charming character Paul Reubens created was back on a reconstructed "Playhouse" set and among the chatty furnishings, including Magic Screen, Clocky and Chairry. The original Miss Yvonne (Lynne Marie Stewart on the TV show and stage) and Mailman Mike (John Moody on stage only) were back, too.
Some of the originals were replaced by new faces or gone completely (as in the late Phil Hartman's Captain Carl). But the 90-minute show managed to stay true to spirit while showcasing enough novel fun to keep newbies like Andy entertained (and he's a tough cookie).
Is the comedian and his camp angling for a TV comeback? Possibly. I'd tune in, as I did before, waking up Saturdays at what felt like the crack of dawn after a late-night in clubland. Of course, now there is TiVo (although now I also wake up at the crack of dawn whether I like it or not!). All these years later, the 57-year-old Ruebens still put on an jolly trip through the rabbit hole, one colored by the bizzaro innocence of retro Americana and barbed taunts at the craziness of our current political and social climate.
Fun? Duh, that WAS the magic word....

Go See: Unions & Intersections by Valentin Toledo

If you're in L.A. Saturday night, catch you at the opening of "Unions & Intersections," the new solo show by one of our favorite artists and individuals, Valentin Toledo.

We're mad about his painterly ballet strokes of acrylic on glass.

The show runs through February 14 at the ADC Contemporary Art Gallery in Building 1 of the downtown Arts District's Factory Place Art Complex. Party goes from 6 to 10 p.m.

On Set with Dita Von Teese

Dita Von Teese brandishes her pearly whites.

Look upon this snapshot of Dita Von Teese. Uuntouched. Unaltered in anyway. Just as the Glamour Gods and my Leica intended.
Snapped on set recently, the nine-hour shoot at Milk Studios in Hollywood, was an exercise in efficiency, grace and awe-inspiring beauty making. This wasn't my first time at Dita's side as she deftly applied her own make-up and set her own hair. That's right, even her pal, hair star Danilo, who was across the way at another shoot and popped in for a brief visit, conceded there's never a need for his input given her talent with the tresses.

Nor was it my first shoot with her. But the marathon-pace of looks executed by the burlesque star is breathtaking. In a blink, flawless deep berry lips from one set-up are replaced by the glossiest, wettest apple red. Locks are effortlessly wrapped around hot rollers, then released, combed and set in an entirely other 'do.
I always felt like I was the Action Jackson on a set. It's been such a pleasure working with someone with such snap-to flair. The whole team last weekend was fantastic, in fact (no room for silly attitudes here!), and photographer Scott Nathan, whom I only met in person that day, was selfless, enthusiastic and an absolute dream.

Scott Nathan gets the shot.

As Dita's assistants laid out a couple dozen heels (mostly Louboutins and all of them ravishing) and steamed a rack of feather-trimmed robes, boned corsets and antique lace negligees, we zeroed in on a sparkling Chanel choker for one set up, an antique compact designed by Salvador Dali for another (now that is a gem in her compact collection!). Thankfully, I wore flats that day, as I dashed from the props area to Scott's side to our featured subject.
As when I worked on magazines and newspapers, I'm not satisfied with telling a story through the words alone, critical as they are to the narrative. Fortunately, my book projects so far have welcomed collaboration. This new book is a beauty resource that will give steps on how to get your own glam on, dear reader. And working with Dita and Co. on it, well, it hardly seems like work at all.

Case study in frills.

Cinderella Ache: Just a few of Dita's heels at the shoot.

The Vuitton Bunny Hop in Zoo York

Our New York pals are definitely serving up some entertainment this winter. Janet Ozzard, sister in spirit and New York Magazine Strategist editor, teamed up with fellow staffer Amina Akhtar and hit the tough streets of Manhattan to test out the Louis Vuitton "bunny ears." They were first unveiled by Madonna at last April's Met Costume Institute ball. It goes without saying that Janet and Amina imbue something to this headgear that the Material Mum could not: Droll charm.
Best part of the segment? The bon mot at the end.

p.s. Just turn down the volume on the painful opening ad. Cannot be helped.

Trafficking Art: Yoko Ono, Shirin Neshat and Alex Katz Drive Out Commerce

APF's Doreen Remen, Casey Fremont and Yvonne Force Villareal

"War is Over!" declares the top of one, then another and yet another yellow taxicab on the streets of New York. It's not brain freeze affecting those darling schmucks back east, as they suffer through this bitter winter (my friends there emailed me about waking up to snow this a.m.!).
But it is the evergreen conviction of so many of us who have grown up with that now-iconic declaration from Yoko Ono and her late-soulmate John Lennon. Emblazoned on some 160 cab ad cones in both English and sign language, it's also one of three mobile artworks roaming that art-loving metropolis courtesy of those art maniacs at Art Production Fund, the nonprofit cofounded by Doreen Remen and Yvonne Force Villareal with director Casey Fremont at the helm.
Painter Alex Katz, whose abstract realist portraiture is so inspired by his New York, debuted two recent works as his contribution.
And Iranian-born Shirin Neshat's "Offered Eye" depicts a 1960's Persian poem, “I Feel Sorry for the Garden,” by Forough Farokhzad, scrolled over a woman's eye, and, on the other the side of the ad cone, a handshake between two hands decorated in calligraphy from the "Women of Allah" series.

ART ADDStaxi by Shirin Neshat

Show Media gave APF 500 taxi tops for the project, which were split in three among the trio of artists. The donation represents about $100,000 in monthly revenue for the Las Vegas company, which owns about half the cab cones in Gotham. But apparently it wasn't a stretch for Show Media co-owner John Amato, a contemporary art enthusiast, who was only to thrilled to participate.
The month-long mobile art show is called "Art Adds" as not only a nod to its advertising platform, but because it contributes to the public dialogue of art.

Art and commerce have always shared a cushy kinship, and never so much as in the modern and postmodern context. Let's hope APF considers going on the road with this concept in that most auto-centric city of all, L.A.

(Thank you to Yvonne for sharing this latest project of APF's with LVER.)

Photos Courtesy Show Media & Art Production Fund

Not Another Face in the Crowd: Portrait by Alex Katz

R & R for A+R

Rose Apodaca and Andy Griffith at the Ace Palm Springs Jan. 1, 2010

A happy new year and new decade to you!
We are finally feeling human again following a wildly wonderful holiday season--and a week's respite in nearby Palm Springs. We usually jump on a plane to the UK on Boxing Day (December 26) to see friends in London and Andy's family in the north and east. But this time we decided to delay those visits a bit. As the weeks sped up into a dizzying madness of wrapping hundreds of customer gifts, processing thousands of web orders, and zigzagging around as is the way in December, we also decided not to jet off to Miami to see the new A+R Mini (more on that later!), or to Brazil to stay at the new beach cottages by our pal Kenny Scharf (although that is still on our to-do list).
Instead, Andy and I spent Boxing evening at a high-rise spa in L.A.'s Koreatown undergoing a thorough kneading of shiatsu and other treatments (those tiny women worked their fingers off!). The next day, we took the 90-minute drive to the desert and a week at one of our favorite new hotels: The Ace Palm Springs.

We meant to share with you our first visit here in November, not to mention our stay at the Ace New York last early June. We're definitely smitten with this fledgling chain, and are even looking forward to popping up to Portland soon, in part because of the original Ace there.
The 180-room Palm Springs site is surrounded by burnt sienna mountains and sky-high, wiry palm trees, providing one of those magical, vintage California postcard settings for lazy hours lapped up in one of the two pools or steaming hot tub or on a balcony sofa with a book.

Andy in nirvana.

Of course, it's what's inside that counts, especially given all the fabulously designed hotels that have materialized in these parts in recent years. The Ace stands apart because of its easy, organic blending of its inherited mid-century blueprint with an updated, homegrown aesthetic of design and decor.
Los Angeles design collective Commune transformed the property into an old school summer camp club--Left Coast style, mind you--with Mongolian yurt treatment rooms tipped by pointed neon-colored roofs; well-worn vintage bicycles for guest use; and room interiors evoking tents with heavy canvas draping the walls (this also serves as a sound buffer). Each room comes with such camping-themed amenities, in fact, as a tall, knotty walking stick and fringed blanket, a sturdy metal folding table and chairs, and even an army green folder labeled "Survival Guide" that contains menus for room service, the spa and 24-hour gym, along with tips to endure an earthquake.

Inside Room 312, a.k.a. Home Sweet Home for the week.

Surprise above our bed: Bill Claxton and Peggy Moffit torn from an old mag.

The region's indoor-outdoor lifestyle is emphasized with several living room-like areas around the property, replete with a sofa and a couple of chairs and (the pièce de résistance) a fireplace with a towering chimney tiled by legendary ceramicist Stan Bitters. (These are works of art, folks, so enjoy them.) The gravel gardens are impeccably raked throughout the day, and a soundtrack of everything from The Undertones to Johnny Cash to a Bollywood hit blasts around the main pool area between the civilized hours of 9ish to early evening.

Ace Perks: These super-soft, pinstriped djellabas.

Stan's collaborator Scott Nadeau of Ten10 in Silverlake also provided the iron and leather stools in all the rooms, among other touches. These kind of locally hand-crafted features are integral to the overall look and sensibility of the Ace. Adam Silverman's volcanic ceramic pendant lights hang in the restaurant; Alma Allen's turnings of desert ironwood sit at the check-in counter and his stools serve as nightstands in each room; and Commune's very own wood and brass crates make a convertible coffee table expanse in the lobby lounge, where guests can play one of several board games offered on the nearby bookshelf.

Dusk at the Ace: View from our balcony.

As we walked into the check-in lobby our first night, with its window "curtains" of sea knot ropes by none other than Michael Schmidt, we spotted Jen Meyer coming out of the arcade photo booth with her child in tow. Husband Tobey Maguire hung back with friends in the adjoining King’s Highway diner. The restaurant is like a community center at the Ace, and the next morning over chilaquiles, Kimberly Brooks dropped into our booth. There with hubby Albert and sons, she enthusiastically updated us on her upcoming exhibitions in New York and L.A. of stylemaker portraits. The collection now includes Vogue's Grace Coddington and "Mad Men" costume designer Janie Bryant. I thanked her again for making me her first in the series (I'm pictured in my Magda Berliner wedding dress against a fiery red background, and I can't wait to share it!).

The goal this week was R & R, as in restoration and repair of our crickety, stiff bodies. So we limited our activities to sleeping, soaking, sunning and one off-campus outing daily. Because Andy was convinced as of December 29 he was the only one on Planet Earth yet to see "Avatar," we spent the evening in adjacent Cathedral City, nestled in the comfy IMAX Theater seats, sporting ridiculously oversized 3-D glasses.

The next afternoon, we ventured into Tahquitz Canyon, relishing every step of the two-mile hike to the 60-foot waterfall and its powder-white rocks. We accidentally timed the walk to sunset, and the serenity of this former home of the peaceful Agua Caliente Cahuilla tribe still radiated from every hunk of granite and chuparosa bush.

On New Year's Eve afternoon, we took the Ace bicycles around the neighborhood to check out the mid-century homes. Only blocks from the Ace, we happened on the most marvelous sanctuary, an acre-sized private property that had decades ago been turned into a botanical garden dedicated to cacti and succulents. The family-owned and operated Moorten "Desertland" is incredible (more on it later). We returned on our final day in town and filled up the trunk with unusual finds from their adjacent nursery.

A sight in "Desertland."

Back at the pool that afternoon, a new wave of familiar faces swarmed in from Los Angeles: Roman Alonso and Steven Johanknecht from Commune; Cat Doran; Lisa Eisner and husband Eric and the sons; Gia Coppola (there to also celebrate her birthday that evening at uncle Roman's nearby); stylist Michael Cioffoletti. There was even a troop of Gregorian singers! We were all surprised to spot standing next to a chocolate vintage Benz Roadster none other than German actor Udo Kier, he of the piercing blue eyes and mostly known among the cast of characters who appeared in Madonna's Sex book. Go figure.

J.C. Obando and Rose on the balcony of Room 318. Dreamy view.

On his way to collect ice for our evening G&Ts, Andy discovered J.C. Obando staying down the row of rooms from us. We joined him and his other half for a cocktail and chat about his runway presentation in New York next month.
Then we set off to dinner, a four-course affair organized by the Ace's culture director Jason Harler. His twin Jared was there, too, ensuring everything ran smoothly throughout the candle-lit New Year's Eve dinner, including the motley crew of live folky acts (the Gregorian singers to boot!).

Lisa and Eric Eisner

One of the many cooky fun acts during the New Year's Eve dinner.

At the helm of one of the two long tables was Ace head Alex Calderwood, who before long lead us all out to a raging bonfire to burn the slips of paper scrawled with our 2010 hopes and dreams.

Jason Harler gets us and our 2010 hopes and dreams fired up!

The night itself was a dream of sorts, between the Burning Man-looking hippies banging drums outside, the Gin Rose cocktails (gin and pink grapefruit), and the invasion of revelers of every age who poured into the hall once the tables were removed. We disco'd into the new year to the deft stylings at the turntables by Lisa's son Charlie. Then cabaret drag star Jer Ber Jones began counting down the changing of time.
Ok, so the night, our week's stay, was, well, aces. Pun, and fun, intended.

Jer Ber Jones counts down and Jared Lovejoy keeps watch.

DJ Charlie Eisner smokes up the dance floor.

An night with no limits, age or otherwise.

Enough said.

Top Photo: Roman Alonso with Rose's Leica.
Photos with Rose: Andy Griffith