The Castle on NYMag.com

I met Wendy Goodman at a dinner last year (thanks Stacy!) and we fell in love.
I have admired her writing for years and she had heard about The Castle for years.
So last month she trekked up to the house for tea and Harlem homemade goodies and snapped away.

Rod and I both thought she would be coming back to take the official pictures and have since
spruced, revamped, trashed and bought countless things only for the scouting pics to be used. Alas. Thank goodness she has a good eye!
Check it out here.

I have also included more images of our house so people can get more of a sense of where we live, work and do our passing out.

Enjoy and come see us.

Love-
Cator

 This is the front of our house (far left). The architect of our house built the rest of this stretch of the block as well.
 My living room looking out to the garden terrace.
 Dining area with recently acquired 19th century French chandelier. (Haven't tried swinging from it yet)
 The garden terrace.
And last but not least, the bar!!!! And a portrait of me done by Justin Giunta for my 30th birthday.

NYC hits Lake Lanier


















It’s been ages since I posted something on the blog. Seems like airports are the best places to catch up on personal writing. So here I sit at Hartsfield in Atlanta, while Fay and Olivia are finding food, Justin already left on AirTran and we are all ogling the stud sitting in front of us. But we realized he wasn’t more than eye candy when he pulled out an eight-track cell phone. Hello, no Blackberry or iphone?

See, I’m already loosing my Southern gentility and I’m not even out of Atlanta yet. But lets recount our halcyon weekend, shall we? This was Olivia and Fay’s third annual summer trip to the South. We have spent St. Patrick’s Day here and usually spend a day at the farm riding. But this year was all lake time and it was heaven. We invited Justin for this round and he proved amusing enough to invite back next year! Justin, you at the grocery store causing a debacle with the cashier was classic, not to mention mom and dad adore you.

I arrived on Thursday and took care of lots of friends and family time before the crew descended late Friday night. Justin and I had a drink on the dock at midnight and the girls invaded the now famous gift-wrapping room before we all hit the hay. Saturday morning we lounged, mother made fruit salad and a massive gooey cinnamon-y monkey bread that we devoured. Calories be damned! At 11:30 we headed downtown for lunch with my grandparents, Pop and Dorothy. They had just returned from a three-week tour of South East Asia and the Middle East and provided a cournucopia of stories to regale us with. Justin and Dorothy had especially a lot in common with their shared love and talent in the art world.

After lunch (where we splurged on mozzarella sticks and nachos!) we zoomed back up to the lake for serious respite. Dad took the boat out and we motored over to our favorite spot, Cocktail Cove. There we were both disturbed and delighted by the cigarette boats, massive yachts and barely there bathing suits worn by some of Georgia’s less appealing peaches. Fay’s favorite boat was named ‘Slap & Tickle’, naturally. We took the sun, plunged into the water, drank some Budweiser and simply enjoyed life.

After several hours it was time to putter back for dinner at the club. We bathed, changed, packed up the booze (mother made Charleston Tea, a recipe from Southern Living consisting of whiskey, rum, Triple Sec and iced tea-yes please!) and drove down the road for dinner. Our feast was rather uneventful but pleasant, mostly because we were all stuffing ourselves on steak, potatoes, booze and the salad bar. But once we were wrapping up, a pile of club goers wobbled into the dining room and plopped down at our table. The Duke's and their English friends Robin and Trisha had been drinking from the cup of Bacchus for several hours while making pizzas at the Dukes house (they have a pizza oven in their backyard!) and decided to come by for a hello. Drinks were poured, desserts were ordered and vivacious voices persisted for another hour until we were all fairly tight and decided home was the best idea. Of course with Dad not drinking he was a steady pilot for the five-minute drive home, so Mom could take one more swig of the Charleston Tea!

Fay and Olivia decided the fireplace was the newest spot for a photo shoot and the Missus Clauses’ never looked so good. Justin passed out (that boy can sleep!) and we all had a nightcap and a walk down memory lane in many a scrapbook.

This morning we were awake in time for CBS Sunday Morning, mother made cinnamon toast and we lulled until it was time to head to the dock to lull some more. And that was that really. A weekend of complete relaxation save for the major exercise of fork and cup to mouth repeatedly. We did take a trip to Publix for sammiches for lunch (and where Justin made the cashier turn red with his purchases- hey they are cheaper in the South!) and I took a dip around the dock. But most of the day was simply spent catching up on gossip, on reading, of watching the ducklings patter around and soaking in the sun.

I always promise myself I will come back more often to this land of serenity, silliness and seclusion, here is hoping to one or two more trips before Christmas!

Thanks mom and dad for another love filled Southern sojourn.

A Decade of Decadence





On August 28th, 2009, it will be ten years since I moved to New York City. To me that is unfathomable, as Vreeland would quip. But again, I can hardly remember the feeling of being 23. That seems like centuries ago that I was that insecure, confused and often oddly dressed boy. I do remember many moments of that time in my life. I remember leaving my apartment on Ponce de Leon Place bawling out of control leaving the love of my life, Rick. He had given me a pair of Tiffany cufflinks by Peretti and I sobbed and held them tight as he waved goodbye and my mother drove me towards the airport holding it all in for my sake.

I arrived in New York City feeling so alone. My cab drove through China Town where a street fight broke out and stopped traffic briefly. “Shit”, I thought, “what the fuck have I gotten myself into?” Kevin’s apartment was a five-floor walk up and not in the best shape but to me I had arrived. I had an apartment in New York! But the magic didn’t last.

I got to my new job at Jeffrey and was told my salary was to drop from $70,000 to $35,000. Sorry! And that was that. Why? Oh someone had simply over budgeted for the new stores salaries so mine had to be slashed. Swell. But working at Jeffrey was amazing. I was in WWD the first week I lived here quoted as the southern boy with a drawl who said, “I’m from the South, get into it!” And as archaic as it sounds, its true. Moving from Atlanta (or my Atlanta) to this dirty, loud, aggressive Yankee territory was one of the hardest things I have had to adjust to. Ok, Paris was no dream, but I managed. Mostly by getting stoned daily and wandering the halls of Versailles. And London was a breeze. People were civil! Fun! Well dressed! But New York…

My neighbor on 24th Street was called ‘Stompy Stomp’. She would wear platform shoes and stomp around her apartment all day and night. She was ugly and not nice. We would ask her kindly to be quiet and she would stomp faster. One day I dropped a picture I was hanging and it shattered on the floor. I was so sad and then she began stomping wildly. How dare I make such noise? At my wits end I picked up my hammer, went to her front door and beat on that goddamned door and screamed at her for what must have been five minutes straight. I became possessed. It was every mean cab driver, rude person in the street and shitty deli server all pouring out of my magnolia and mint southern veins. And you know what? It worked! She never stomped again. And I only heard about her one other time when my friend Maggie James was staying with me. She worked at Westwood (oh the halcyon days!) and she was getting ready for work one day in her bondage boots and Stompy actually came to my door and told her to be quiet. Maggie, having been warned about her, simply looked her in that face and said, “Fuck You!” WOW! It worked!

Like Seth Brundle in The Fly, my skin began to harden. A shell began to form. But quite honestly I didn’t like it. I didn’t want a hard skin; I didn’t want to have to be that person. I’ll never forget one time when I went to Port Authority (the most depressing place on the face of the earth) to catch a bus to Rhode Island to visit Anna and Price at RISD I asked the ‘Information Booth’ Lady where I could find the bus to my destination. She looked up at me, had spaghetti and red sauce oozing out of her mouth and said, “can’t you read the signs dumb ass?!” I was stunned. I simply took a deep breath and looked up at her with her slime falling onto her poly blend uniform and said, “Jesus loves you too.” I didn’t know what else to do but simply try to keep the faith.

I would take trips home and when it was time to fly back to New York I would get fetal in my bedroom over looking Lake Lanier. Poor Rick and my mother would hug me, hold me and give me the strength to go back to this hellhole I had moved to. Granted, there were highlights. I met loads of celebrities when I first moved here who would shop at Jeffrey. And at 23 that was exciting. The person I thought was the biggest celebrity who came to the store was Valerie Steele. When she walked in I about died! I kept telling people, “Look it’s Valerie Steele!!” Nobody knew who she was. I knew she was the curator of FIT Costume Institute and a fashion historian. When I went to school in London and studied fashion history my teacher would banter on about this or that for about ten minutes and then announce, “Well, Ms. Steele can explain it better than I can so here we go.” And for weeks on end I would watch videos of Dr. Steele explaining cod pieces, Rose Bertin, slashing and corsets. I’m not sure she was aware that a school in London was using her lectures to teach their students but she changed my life. To me, she was the first celebrity who I met.

There were other celebrities I met in my first year in New York: Diana Vreeland, Sarah & Gerald Murphy, Dorothy Parker, Peggy Guggenheim and Stephen Tennant. Reading biographies of these peoples lives, their time in New York, and the landmarks that they called home and haunted helped me see the prettier, more elegant side of New York. I would imagine I was a friend of Parkers running into the ‘Gonk’ for a martini. I would imagine I was Mr. Murphy on my way to Mark Cross on Park Avenue and I would imagine I was an assistant to Vreeland when I passed the Met on an errand. I would dress in a suit for a night out at a dirty East Village Bar and it made me feel good and in turn people began to notice me. 1) As the well-dressed kid sticking dollars in the go-go dancers thong 2) the loudest laugh anywhere 3) The one who was always ready to shake and shimmy till the wee hours. 10 years later I don’t think much has changed.

Someone told me that you must give New York two years and that one day, without consciously thinking about it, you will fall in love. Those first two years were incredibly difficult. Moving, missing my boyfriend, finding out fashion isn’t as Vreeland knew it anymore and searching for myself in this melting pot was not easy. I think I was the last of my friends to actually get a cell phone and I went through four jobs in that short time. But I will never forget I was on 5th Avenue, alone, at dusk and I gazed over the park to the deco towers of the Wild West side and my heart grew warm and a massive smile took over my face. I was home. I couldn’t leave. It was my time.

Ten years later I still pinch myself when I wake up. My room at the top of a castle in Harlem is my bachelor boudoir a la Rhett Butler come true. My housemates are some of my closest friends in the world. If it wasn’t for Rod and Philip I would have never experienced India where I realized I must attempt to become a journalist. Nor would I have experienced the Hamptons the same way in Jamie Drakes Bentley, nor would I have ever met Isabella Blow at La Caprice where I was tipsy enough to ask her to touch my cock. And she did, caressing the cockerel on the side of my Rod Keenan hat. And of course there is Frankie, who if he did not live with me, I would not be hip to any ghetto lingo or the newest technology in makeup and who I am so proud of. We have come a long way from the ‘Junior Mafia’ in Atlanta.

My career still has me questioning, “How the hell did this happen?” Working at the coolest PR firm in the world where I have met a group of people who have become family, to my days lounging in caftans at home researching pitches and pounding out interviews with people I never thought I would get to meet. I haven’t become the President of the National Arts Club yet, nor do I have a column in Vanity Fair but hey, slow and steady wins the race.

Then there are the friends I have met here. Mark and Mary who approached me at a Westwood after party assuming I would be some snob and then latched onto them the rest of the night in my kimono, waistcoat and Westwood patent pumps. Having Beatrice Greer, their daughter as my goddaughter has grounded me more they can imagine. Spending weekends with her in the Hamptons and running around with her on Easter Sunday searching for eggs at First Presbyterian are such highlights for me. I can’t wait till she is old enough to go shopping and have brunch at Bergdorf.

Then there is Mr. Giunta who has experienced more adventures with me than anyone else. Wild weekends at Art Basel, boozy ranch rides on the hunt for Zebras at Big Daddy’s ranch and the countless nights out in New York, which, together, we seem to conquer the world.

I recently bought a bike. Ok, my mother bought if for me for my 33rd birthday. I adore Felton, that’s my bikes name. We zizz down the Westside highway with a cool breeze off the Hudson blowing though my straw cap. Over the summer I have forgone the gym to take Felton for a spin around Central Park. I notice the grand monuments, the museums and the sculptures but now instead of imaging them as part of the world of Vreeland or some other iconic New Yorker I realize they are part of my world. It was over there in that alley of trees that Kevin and I wandered through new fallen snow. It was in that great lawn where I first saw a spark with Adam and Tali. And there is the Plaza where mother and I went for a last drink in the Oak bar and did an impromptu photo shoot on a grand piano before the old Plaza shut its glorious doors.

A funny thing happened just last week. I was on my way from a charity meeting in Tribeca to the West Village to watch my friend Annabelle win $125,000 on the reality show- The Fashion Show. I waved down a cab and gave him my destination. He lurched off and had his ‘Spanish to English’ lesson tapes blasting full blast. I dealt with it for a moment then asked if he could turn it down. He barked, “No way! You turn off that fucking TV in the back of the cab! I have to learn English!” Well it sounded to me like he had a pretty good grasp of the language to me. So with a bit of force I slammed the plastic partition shut. He screamed, “Why the fuck did you do that! What the fuck are you doing to my cab!” I just sat there and said, “What have I done wrong? What happened to the passenger being right?” “Asshole!” he yelled, pulled over and told me to get the fuck out. And I did. I stood there in silence. The southern boy coming back to his roots of confusion over the harshness of this city. Then I grinned, picked up my phone, called 411 and said, “Yes, I would like to make a complaint about car 2J 3R. He asked me to get out because he wanted to play his English lessons at full blast.” “Oh my how rude!” the woman said with a little tsk tsk, “would you like to file a complaint and take him to court? You know you can go to taxi court by phone these days!” As I held my head up high and waved down another cab I laughed and said, “Go on then. Lets do this!”
Ten years later there are still bumps in the road, still moments that make me flinch, but the positives outweigh the negatives and now I know how to take them in stride.

CFDA 2009









Justin won! Wheeeee! It was the night we have been waiting for for three years. And Tim won menswear! Hooooorah!
But lets start from the beginning. I met up with Mary and headed to the Upper East for a swellegant cocktail party at Sir Alan Campbell's home for Lulu Guinness. She was celebrating 20 years in the business and the British Consulate threw her a little bash. The house was fun of kooky art and kookier outfits! HIGHLIGHT- when gathering our coats in the master bedroom we commented on the view and a lady said Prince Harry enjoyed the view too while he slept there several weeks ago. Gasp! Im in Harry's bedroom!!!

Then we headed downtown for a quiet dinner at Pastis. While dinning I got the text- I won.
Well so much for a quiet night! We wrapped up dinner and bid adieu before I met up with Fay and the gang at Calvin Klein's Highline party to celebrate. Justin took that huge bottle opener of an award everywhere! We saw Danny Devito. Man is so tiny he could of been mistaken as a cocktail table or garden gnome.

From there we zizzed over to the new Jane Hotel for the Rodarte party which was swinging. Daphne Guinness and the whole fashion flock was rip roaring drunk and out of control. It was highly amusing to watch! Papa didn't get too blotto since Im still on meds for the strep throat but managed to have a pretty hysterical night.

Around 3am we called it quits and we all headed home, I with a smile on my face, Fay with a cocktail in her hand and Justin with a big ole trophy and a newly fat wallet!

Chanel the Southern Belle



Today I FINALLY had the chance to interview Chanel Iman for a new website launching in the new year called www.Modelinia.com
We have been planning this for months but her schedule as a the model of the moment is brutal. Luckily we figured out a time and the stars aligned.

I had the idea to interview her with Justin because they have been friends for a while now and she has been wearing his pieces since she hit the big time.

We met at Justin's home and conducted one of the most hysterical interviews I have ever done.
She is a spit fire and pairing her with Justin was simply trouble.

She let us know that she had a rap about herself that started off:
May name is Chanel
I'm a Southern Belle!

After that she and Justin created an entire song we caught on tape.
I was not prepared for such a hip hop model showdown.

You will have to wait till the site launches to learn more (and Chanel has MAJOR news about a new contract)
but for now here is a picture of us after their first rap session.
Enjoy.

OH! And check out Chanel's youtube channel-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEwS1GiVIec&channel=CHANELIMANTV

24 hours in Atlantic City











I had been hearing for months about a bus leaving from the Beatrice Inn that was going to take friends and family of the Bea to their new boite in Atlantic City.

Matthew and I finally nailed down a weekend for me to come out, Horacio at the NYT asked me to cover it for them and I dragged Justin along for company. Well Justin and I arrived at the Beatrice on Saturday at six to find noting but West Village neighbors giving us strange looks wondering why we were sitting on the stoop of the infamous club at 6pm.

After a text and a call I find out wires had been crossed and the bus left on FRIDAY. So with eyes rolling, Justin and I head to Port Authority and take a God-awful Greyhound to the shiny city on the coast arriving at 8:30.

The hotel is quite swank although there are still plenty of Joisey people milling about. But hey, when in Rome! Justin in I checked in, showered, dressed and headed to the soon to be famous fifth floor where the club, pool and steak house are located for a quick drink before dinner.

Since the steak house was booked we headed to the just opened diner, which was fine and dandy, although the sweet staff was a bit confused. But if I was a coastal boy serving Chloe Sevigny and her entire posse on my first night I may have the jitters too.

Paul was kind enough to give us a tour of the soon to be opened spa and new rooms before we finished dinner and headed back to the rooms for costume changes!

Justin bought us matching tee shirts that said 'We pack all faces' resplendent with faces of all the Presidents on US dollars and much gold glitter. With our new outfits on we headed down to bar and found a whole load of friends from the city: Jamie Rosenthal, Katie Lanphear, Hanuk, Victor Glemaud and Matthew and his new wife.

I interviewed the developer Curtis Bashaw, who was quite fun and he also renovated one of my favorite hotels in Cape May, Congress Hall. I then interviewed Chloe who is always so charming and friendly. THEN I took my Blackberry to my room and got my party on!

Can't tell you much about the rest of the night except for that I made another costume change, danced till dawn and had a blast.

Justin woke me up at 1pm the next day and we hung out by the pool and chatted with all the other kids. By 3pm we were ready to go so we packed up and headed back on the Greyhound for a grueling 3.5-hour trip home. So we never got to try out the Beatrice party bus! And next time (hoping to go back for the grand opening in October!) I want to take that damn seaplane Chloe and Paul took. 40 min from Manhattan to AC? That’s the deal for me.

Hamptons Hysterics








Justin and I had a much needed respite from the Big City this weekend at Jamie Drake's delicious home, 'The Drake Estate' as we like to call it.

We took the Hamptons Luxury Liner out there because Justin insisted it is the chicest way to go. Well we get out of the tunnel and the bus breaks down! We end up in a car service with a driver who doesn't know where the Hamptons are. Great.

Friday night we had a quiet dinner with nine guests and a very giddy cocktail hour afterwards.

Saturday was pool, sun, lunch for 19 people and a quick trip to the gay beach where we saw our own version of the Montauk Monster. Dinner that night was for 12 and Justin and I started a dance party afterwards.

Today was calm and cool and most of the house guests left so we had a day on the DL before Jamie graciously drove us home.

Thank you Jamie for an amazing, amusing and relaxing weekend.

CFDA Awards






This years were a bit lack luster for me.
Maybe because my two friends up for awards lost. Well Philip Crangi is a friend too, but I really wanted Justin to win for obvious reasons.
Maybe it was the death of YSL that gave the function a somber vibe. Last year seemed so much more peppy, amusing and exciting.
MAYBE it has to do with the ticket prices going up and up?! There were not nearly as many people this go around.
The space looks incredible and the food was great but they did run out of champagne. HELLO. It’s a fashion event!

Once the awards part of the evening ended Justin & Co had to stay for the dinner. Who thought that one up? So we went back to his house to wait for him and then he got dragged out to several parties so we hit the Beatrice. It was a fun night but not exactly the swinging time I had imagined. What's the fun of supporting your friend if you can't play with him afterwards?

On the flip side everyone looked amazing! See the picture of the four of us care of Hanuk.

Enjoy the warm weekend!

Big Daddy's dreamtastic ranch!










I need to stop, breath, close my eyes and have someone pinch me.
I have found a little slice of gay heaven right here in the middle of Texas.

Price has been telling me about her eccentric gay uncle, Big Daddy for years.
He has a ranch, which is part of one of Texas' most well known ranches, the YO (not Yo as in MTV Rap, but as in the letters).

On it he has created his dream world filled with exotic Indian deer (of which he has shipped some over to fill the grounds of  Indian palaces since they don't have enough), zebra, giraffes and local long horns, turkeys and armadillo.

His home is a Tony Duquette gone cowboy fantasy. Hundreds of mounted heads all of which he has shot on his own ranch or on safari in Africa not to mention phallic symbols everywhere! In the living room there is a Dali painting, elephant skull and a giant 'Brighton gone dark crystal' bird cage with onion dome and amethyst bottom. Oh and did I mention there is a picture of him and Donna Summer in the laundry room and him and Little Edie in the bathroom? He spent a weekend with her in Florida and said it was life changing!

We arrived from San Antonio around 3 pm and Big Daddy had cocktails ready.

After bags were unpacked we gathered on the back porch, built a bon fire and watched the deer as Big Daddy pushed a remote controlled feeder and they all came out of the woodwork to feast as we gazed.

Dinner was an event. We took out Justin's jewelry and everyone put on a piece. Big Daddy put on a vintage kimono and we dined on venison shot on the property and then had a dance party around the bonfire. It was like being in Egypt all over again! I guess wearing a djelabba was part of the reason. But the booze, dry heat and big old fire brought back hysterical memories of nights in Siwa.

Today we are going on safari.

I always wondered if God could be an eccentric queen who made every moment in heaven a wild party. Now I know.
More soon.

Love and cowboys-
Cator

Subversive's Texas Trunk Show






Yesterday was all about bling in big old Tejas!
Justin and I landed in the afternoon and hit the ground running unwrapping jewelry and taking over Jeanne Latimer's dining room for Justin's first big Texas Trunk Show.

Justin designed Price's wedding jewelry and all of her friends and family in San Antonio flipped over it, so we planned this show right after the wedding in October.

Sales were through the roof and as the champagne flowed the credit cards started smokin'
It was great to see some of the ladies we met at the wedding and to hang out with the Latimer and Whittenburg clans again.

By the end of the event we were all wearing Subversive. I found some coral to match my nautical look and blended in perfectly with Jeanne's blue & white niche.

Good times!

Justin's Couture Kick Off














Last Friday on a very wet evening, Justin had a bash 1) to celebrate his Ecco Domani win 2) to launch his first couture collection of jewelry.

Held at Cipriani on 23rd Street, all the gang showed up to support including Chanel Iman, Lindsay Price (from Lipstick Jungle YAY!) and Justin's parents and brother.
Rod brought a special guest, Flat Stanley who even got his picture taken by Patrick McMullan!

The collection was presented on synchronized dancers doing high kicks. Needless to say I nearly jumped in formation.

We partied till 11pm then I headed with the French kids to Florent for a last supper at one of the Meat Packing Districts most iconic spots, closing soon because of high rents. We all almost shed a tear.

Then we headed to Lotus for Justin's after party where we met up with Amanda and a gaggle of drag queens and club kids ready to get on down.

I could go on and on but you can check out my piece on NYT blog here for more of the dirt:
http://themoment.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/03/10/line-dancing/

Oh and how do you like my new glasses? Yes, they really are prescription!

Im so proud of my boys!





Monday night at the CFDA nominations four of my favorite boys were nominated for awards.
Tim Hamilton- Swarovski newcomer in menswear
Duckie Brown (Steven and Daniel)- Menswear
Subversive Jewelry- Justin Giunta-Swarovski newcomer in accessories.
I am so proud of them all.
The Duck's were nominated with Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein. How major.

Crossing my fingers for them all on the awards night of Monday June 4th.

The event itself was lovely. Held on the rooftop of Rockefeller center. The garden reminded me of Philips garden in Jersey with a reflecting pond at the end (minus the Pagoda). Sweet Nadja Swarovski donated mounds of crystals to fill up the pool which dazzled at sunset.

Everyone was there and cocktails were imbibed. Once the event was over Justin, Anna (WGSN), Lee (Hintmag.com) and Jean Yu (lingere) all feasted at Ruhlmans downstairs then headed home.
Perfect evening!

Tim Hamilton image courtesy of thesartorialist.com