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The cherry blossoms held. They held on for Cherry Weekend. All
around
Dupont Circle, from P Street to U, from 14th to 17th,
pink-covered branches shimmered in the sun and shivered in the
breeze, sending cherry blossoms fluttering to the ground: a carpet
of cherry blossoms underfoot as the boyz arrived on Friday and
Saturday. That’s some kind of art direction by the Cherry Fund.
This was the red part of what Noize magazine called the Red,
White, and Blue Weekend—an unusual convergence of three circuit
events happening on the same weekend. Boyz from all over the States
were flying off to
Palm Springs,
Dallas, and DC, for the White, Purple and Cherry parties.
Since its inception over ten years ago, the Cherry Fund of DC has
raised nearly a million dollars for local LGBT service
organizations, and this year’s beneficiaries included a number of
youth-based organizations (because, let’s face it, youth is the
future) such as Advocates for Youth (with an ad in the
gorgeous Cherry program which read
“Abstinence-only-until-marriage programs are BAD for EVERYONE”—and
AMEN to that!) and Pediatric AIDS/HIV Care, whose ad in the
program stated that 86% of those infected with HIV in DC are
people of color—and lest we forget, it was people of color who
built DC—literally. Other beneficiaries were Sexual Minority
Youth Assistance League, which helps LGBT youth 13-21, as well
as Metro TeenAIDS. Who wouldn’t want to party in the name of
helping such laudable organizations?
So it was off to Apex on Friday night. Apex, the well loved Friday
night dance palace (once known as
Badlands)
on 22nd Street,
where Alexander from LA was spinning (before heading off to
Palm Springs
for his gig at White). The Cherry Fund people are so polite—and
well organized. Their volunteers are like graduates of hotel
school: charming and gracious. There were trays of crudités on the
bars—and VIP was a petite sanctum sanctorum above the floor.
But once Alexander plated Offer and Maya’s latest (Cherry) smash,
“Wish U Were Here,” the floor was where everyone headed. There was
the DC posse! There was RUSTY! (Where have you been?) And the
Miami posse! Boyz from South Beach in DC to represent! And the New
Orleans posse, there for Peter Rauhofer. And Jesus from
Atlanta—because he lives for Mark Anthony (but that was the next
night). Right then, it was all about Alexander and his urging us
all to “Use It Up” and “let the music take you higher.” Which was
exactly what happened—and what the boyz wanted—and why they were
there on a Friday night at Apex for Cherry Weekend.
Circuit weekends can be so regenerative: those long, late mornings
in a hotel bed—with room service—and servicing in bed… And then the
walkabout—through the gay nabe, which in the case of DC means a
quick cruise around Dupont Circle, and then across the newly chic P
Street, past Whole Foods and Halo, Merkato and Logan Tavern, and on
up 14th Street, the latest DC gay locus, to Universal
Gear, where the boyz were lining up to buy gear and tix for that
night’s Main Event with Mark Anthony at 9:30 Club—and then to brunch
at Café St. Ex—where an adorable four-eyed Prada-wearing waiter
named Deavenport werked our nerves—before it was back to Halo on P
Street, where all the little angels hang out—waiting to be fallen.
Those wicked Halo angels, plying boyz with half-price Cherry
martinis all weekend long—and then scurrying off to the Cherry
venues to set up the Halo
VIP lounges with their signature sweets.
It was “Amazing”—the first song we heard when we cruised into Main
Event at
9:30 Club on V Street—and it was. A beautiful club, clean and
well-maintained, with excellent sightlines, two mezzanines, a
stage—and dark, dark, dark, the 9:30 Club was decorated for Cherry
with gorgeous cherry blossom scrims in the style of the Japanese
master, Hiroshige, as well as a full-stage movie-screen silver scrim
of a snow-covered, tree-lined street—and a VIP skybox strewn with
rose petals, ivy vines, tea lights, and teacups filled with candy,
mints, and gum. High above the dance floor, snowflakes drifted past
the mirror ball, like cherry blossoms falling from the sky. The
lights flashed pink, red, and blue—as we made out Karen and
Michelle! Tod and Gorm! MOODY! And Cherry chair Paul Marengo and
co-chairs Allen Sexton and Kat Danaher.
And in the booth, it was Mr. Montreal himself, Mark Anthony, werking
Maya’s “On My Own”—“I don’t need you to tell me… This time I’m on
my own now”—and then “Change,” with its lyric “You can do it”—before
he shifted into “Twist in My Sobriety” and Queen’s “I’ve Got to
Break Free.” The Montreal maestro wove an acoustic narrative of
lust, desire, and need—before segueing into local sensation Shi-Queeta
Lee’s performance with the Results Gym dancers—and later a number
from Circuit Mom as a flaming cherry red flapper. And throughout
the night, there was the fabulous flagger Philip Bryan swirling
fabric kaleidoscopes.
Then the entire light ring lowered from the ceiling, hovering just
above the crowd, as Mark Anthony brought it all down, deep and
darker, with a smash-up of “Gotta Work It Out” and then a propulsive
re-working of “Stand By Me.” This was
Montreal sex music: a pounding bass with melodic undertones. “Gonna
take you up, activate my body.” It was soulful and pounding: a
pounding with soul. The sort of request you might be hearing later
in the morning: “Gimme a pounding with soul, baby.” Consider
it done.
From there, from then on, Mark Anthony had the crowd where he wanted
them: putty in his hands, to do as he wished. And he gave it right
back, with a brilliantly suspended and orgasmic “Crave
U.” “I love you so. Crave you til I make you. How can I make
you wait? Stop making me wait. Give me what you know is coming to
me. Crave you, I love you so.”
Let’s face it, this was a chance to hear one of the greats—and
everyone at Cherry Main Event felt it. As the Cherry Fund puts it
in their mission statement, their number one goal is to raise as
much money as possible for the Beneficiaries—and enjoying good music
is simply a byproduct. But what a beautiful byproduct Mark
Anthony’s music was (complemented by superlatively evocative
lighting done by John Niederhauser), the whole package uniting the
crowd and propelling it toward perfect release.
It rained on Sunday—off and on, all through the day. Rarely has a
hotel bed felt so comfortable. The cloudy skies provided the
perfect excuse to remain in bed—all morning, all afternoon—and rest
up for Closing Party at UltraBar.
As anyone who follows music knows, Oscar G. has a serious following,
thanks to his alter ego, one half of the Murk Boys, as well as his
ongoing residency at Miami’s mega-club Space. So even with the
typhoon waging across DC, it wasn’t surprising that the Oscar G.
devotees showed up at ultra-chic UltraBar. The ever-faithful Miami
posse was there, as was the sexy-as-Sin Morera, fresh from his own
gig at After-Hours the morning before at Fur with Peter Rauhofer.
Those Halo angels had been at it again, sprinkling sweets and
goodies all around the upper lounge VIP—and so while the rain fell
outside, the boyz closed down Cherry with Oscar G’s dark beats, all
the while looking as sweet as cherry pie.
That’s Cherry for you: leaving you hungry for another slice, another
bite. Thank goodness the cherry blossoms return each year, as does
Cherry Weekend—thanks to that conscientious core of dedicated Cherry
volunteers and participants. Good gardeners, all of them, planting
cherry seeds for a better LGBT future.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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