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If
you’ve ever wondered how it is that a town as flamboyant as
Miami
Beach has only this year established a date for its first Gay Pride
celebration, then the explanation might have something to do with
the fact that the boyz in this town make nearly every weekend on
this flamingo pink sandbar a celebration of Pride. Take this past
Labor Day weekend, for example—a weekend where south Florida found
itself sandwiched between two hurricanes. Evacuations to the west
and trepidation to the east—and meanwhile, on the Beach, surfers
rode the waves while the boyz cruised the avenues, twirling from one
party to the next.
Once again, rains threatened
Edison Farrow’s
Amnesia T-Dance—and
once again,
Farrow put in a call to Zeus—and the skies cleared for
Susan Morabito’s return to the sandbar. It’s been too long since the
Beach has had the pleasure of
Morabito’s sexy soulful groove—and her
sultry recipe was perfect for the day’s hurricane sandwich. If you
didn’t make it to the Mediterranean (or Fire Island) this summer,
this party was the next best thing. And furthermore, it was the
closest thing that
South
Beach has seen in years to Manhattan’s
long-running and much-loved Sunday afternoon Body and Soul party.
It was hot; it was humid. The air was rainforest thick as strings of
rainbow flag balloons and Chinese lanterns swayed above the dance
floor.
Morabito plated “Lady Marmalade”—and from atop the grand
staircase descended
Adora, Barbarella,
Chyna and Fantasy: a perfect
quartet of divas who werked the walk and sealed the deal. The party
went off!
Morabito threw down “Relight My Fire,” as if to rewind
time and send everyone back to the days when hurricanes were merely
cocktails.
As someone said, “Every Tom, Trick, and Harry is here.” To look
around was to see the entirety of Equinox membership, and the bulk
of
Halo staff, and to imagine the
Winter Party memo that read,
“Calling all
Winter Party Committee members. Attendance at Amnesia
T-Dance is mandatory.” That’s how it was; there was
Parzham, Henry
Perez,
Omar Gonzalez, Chad and Leo, John and Lloyd, Craig Stevens,
Nestor Paz,
Dale Stine,
Doug and Josh, Jarrod and Eric, Santiago, JC
Curry, Jason—and promenading through the crowd,
Michael Galliano
McQueen Dolce Gabbana Stanley, wearing what he termed “roadkill” on
his head. “A little something for the kidz,” he said, smiling. And
there was Flavio Nisti, as
always exhibiting la bella figura, and Michael Superman werqing Ed
Hardy, and Alex Cohen channeling Steve McQueen. All in all, a
pantheon of stylists strutting the staircases and runways that make
Opium Garden such a fun place to play dress-up and get down.
Morabito made her return to the Beach a joyous celebration of her
signature sounds, including “This Time, Baby/In and Out of Love,”
“Rise Up,” “Find Someone New,” “Give Peace a Chance,” as well as
crowd favorites such as “In The Name of Love” and “Where the Streets
Have No Name.” And as moonbeams struggled to break through the cloud
cover and shine across the steamy floor, it was Barry White’s “My
First, My Last, My Everything” that had the floor grooving as one,
which, as Barry would say, was “my kind of wonderful.”
Once darkness took over the floor, there were glow sticks and
nitrogen blasts, and those Chinese lanterns shimmering against the
Miami sky. It was tropical and sultry; it was a party out of a
Hollywood flick about the good life in
Miami.
In many ways, with their easygoing vibe and their innate
camaraderie,
Farrow’s
Amnesia T-Dance's are like the best house
parties of a summer resort such as P’town, or Fire Island—and in
this case, given
Miami Beach’s ongoing temperate climate, some of
the joy is in the fact that this particular summer share doesn’t end
in September. There are more
Amnesia T’s scheduled, with the next
one starring
Brett Henrichsen on the 21st of September, the same
date as the next
Salvation Sunday starring
Abel at
Score. Because,
as we all know, one party is never enough on this Beach.
And so on through the night we staggered—to
CLICK. Because if
Farrow’s Amnesia T’s are the house parties, then
Omar and
Dustin’s
CLICK is the after-hours. It was Labor Day Madness at dek23, where
CLICK was hosting one of its final parties at the Washington Avenue
address before relocating in the coming weeks. The steamy sweatbox
was filled to the gills with
Omar’s hottie posse, or what someone
referred to as a “total pack crowd”—as in six-and-eight pack. Naked
torsos abounded as
Dustin’s bf, Patrick, celebrated his b’day,
complete with cake and arabesque lap dance by
Ebonee Excell. With
her 180-degree leg extensions,
Ms. Excell had the crowd hollering
and caterwauling—for more and more—and the girl delivered, making
“Think It Over” a defiant paean of self-sufficiency.
Meanwhile, in the booth, it was
DJ Roxx and
DJ JRNY tag-teaming
throughout the night, and there was no doubt about the fact that
both of these boyz know their crowd and how to make them werk. With
an arsenal of hard beats, including “I Wanna Be,” “Fascinated,” “You
Know (U Want It),” and “Bad Habit,”
Roxx and
JRNY made this the
after-hours where everyone turned it out. Or as that Alan T. track
had it, “Hope you love the weekend as much as I do. Let’s ROLL.”
There was
Dustin in head-to-toe sequins, a gender-bending
combination of Judy Garland and Liberace, with Boy George’s charm
and chutzpah, catering to his guests—and there was
Adora channeling
Miami
Beach Auntie Mame in a black-and-white polka-dot cocktail
ensemble, and there was
Dale and Flavio sharing a go-go box with a
perfect porno hottie. There were b’day boyz on the banquettes
sharing bottle service, and boyz bouncing off every inch of space.
“Let me take you to the underground,” as
Ceevox sang it, as
DJ Roxx
rocked the box.
That
CLICK bunch is a parade of colorful people, the very buncha
“Happy People” that Maya and Offer Nissim sing about. The kind of
kidz who always threw the best parties when their parents were out
of town. The back patio was open and kidz were strewn across the
chaises and bouncing off the back walls. It was “Four Minutes (To
Save the World)” and they were dancing it off.
And then there was
Chyna— Gorgeous
Chyna performing Maya’s
“Misunderstood,” looking every bit the sex kitten she is, mixed with
the tigress within. And presiding over it all was
Omar, happy to
have this house for a couple more weeks—until the ‘rents come
home—and he moves the party to the next fabulous address.
With parties like these happening, there’s little question that
Pride abounds on the Beach. It’s a lovely sandbox to play in and
there’s room enough for us all—to kick up some sand as we dance our
way through a storm.
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