Bonjour Colorado

Happy, Joyous and Gay in the West Village

It’s always rather electrifying for me to arrive in New York and I’m forever amazed by what I can take in in a short amount of time.  This visit revolved around the West Village, the area west of 6th Avenue between 14th Street and Houston.  And even better, I got to experience much of it with gay men.  My friend, John, was my host most of the time, a more than willing party for showing me the highlights of the area where he lives and works.  

I already was liking the Big Apple a good deal when I picked up a bouquet of sunflowers for John at D’Agostino’s for less than $8.  (The same would have cost about $20. back in Telluride.  Oh, the joys of being in a big city!)  It was also lovely to spend a balmy evening dining outside at Malatesta, a bustling trattoria filled mostly with locals.  

Authentic Food and Ambiance at Malatesta

We feasted on excellent plates of homemade pasta with John’s roommate Dan, another handsome single gay man, and talked a lot about the theater and the wonderful qualities of this charming part of New York.  

“Yeah, gay men know how to gentrify neighborhoods and dress well,” Dan admitted.  “In fact, we’re all about window dressing.”

Although the really “in” neighborhood for gays in New York is now Hell’s Kitchen, the West Village has remained gay enough to still boast a large number of excellent shops, restaurants and cafés.  And its low-key feel attracts people—including many celebs that have taken up residence here—in search of more authentic experiences at not-so staggering prices.

Our pasta dishes at Malatesta rang in at $12.50 each; we all enjoyed fresh salads, such as a pear, arugula and parmesan starter, for well under $10.  (I can still remember the light olive oil and lemon vinaigrette that dressed my salad.)  After perusing the menus at a good number of restaurants in the Village, I ascertained that these prices for excellent cuisine were more the norm than not, but be sure to bring cash since most establishments don’t take credit cards.  Note also that many offer al fresco dining and are open for brunch on weekends.

A Cool Hotspot in the West Village

We reluctantly left the Old World-styled décor of this open and airy restaurant to seek out desert at Eskimix, a newly opened frozen yogurt shop, one of the hottest places in the Village right now.  Its pastel-colored, Hello Kitty-like look contrasted greatly with the warm interior where we had just spent the last couple of hours, yet we were all eager to concoct our own special creation from the list of frozen yogurts and toppings proposed.  I averted the fruit-topped dairy free tofu blend and dove right in to a S’mores Sensation, a rich mixture of sweet yogurt topped with milk chocolate chunks, marshmallow and graham crackers.  My vacation was not off to a good start, but what the heck.  And yes, there is a hint of Pinkberry in the air.

A Yummy Creation

The three of us decided to walk it off by doing a little tour of the neighborhood.  By now the streets were quite animated and the people-watching was topnotch.  We enjoyed browsing on Bleecker Street, pushing our noses against the windows of Marc Jacobs, Coach, Ralph Lauren, Cynthia Rowley and Bonpoint.  I was especially taken with the boudoir-like interior of Juicy Couture, a shop I was glad to pass in front of at such a late hour when I knew I could do no damage.  Strolling down a quaint street such as Bleecker, makes you understand why this part of New York is referred to as the Village.

We turned in for the night and upon seeing the face cream and neatly folded T-shirt and boxer shorts that Dan had laid out for me, I was even more grateful to be staying with such an attentive pair of men.  (My luggage didn’t show up until the next morning and needless-to-say, I don’t pack much in my carryon but my laptop, a good book and some important papers.)

Inside Out of the Kitchen!

I was to meet Roy, another very interesting gay man, at Out of the Kitchen! the next morning for breakfast.  (The gay emphasis is important here, I think, since it denotes a certain level of sophistication and style—often along with a great sense of humor—that I find very attractive.  Plus aren’t gay guys a girl’s best friend anyway?)  

We sat outside and chatted about many of the beautiful things in life over fluffy omelets, roasted potatoes and delicious, whole grain toast.  John was working that shift at the restaurant, so he was able to join in on our conversation, dropping a word or two about certain Broadway shows or other forms of attraction in the city.  

Outside Out of the Kitchen!

I scooted off from this meeting to check out the shops and beauty salons at Christopher Street, another great street in the West Village.  I decided to have a pedicure at Salon de Oasis.  The French grammar mistake in the name instantly tipped me off that this was not a high-end establishment, but the Avalon Salon & Day Spa across the street was fully booked.  I couldn’t help noticing that the two men seated next to me looked particularly metrosexual.  We chatted and before long I learned that they, too, were gay.  They actually live in Hell’s Kitchen but come down to the West Village every Saturday for breakfast and fun.  Both love skiing and Paris, so we all became fast friends.  Armed with a few other addresses of places to check out, I bid them à bientôt in Telluride.

It was beginning to rain, so I was happy to seek refuge next door at McNulty’s Tea & Coffee Co., Inc., purveyors of rare teas and choice coffees, established in 1895.  Big burlap bags of coffee greeted me along with a delicious aroma of coffee and tea that had permeated the wooden floors and shelves of this little shop for over a century.  I thought about picking up some special teas and coffees here for my friend, Jane, that I’d be visiting in Larchmont for the next couple of days but I decided that cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery would make more of a hit with her children instead.

By now it was raining quite hard, so it seemed like this would be the best time to go to this renowned bakery made famous by “Sex and the City.”  We had stopped by here last night and although Dan really craved a cupcake, we didn’t feel it was worth the estimated forty-five minute wait required.  As I approached Magnolia’s on the corner of Bleecker and 11th, I could tell from a distance that there was only a handful of people braving the foul weather for a piece or more of their sugary baked goods.  

Being in no hurry, I poked around Biography Bookshop Inc., located caddy corner to Magnolia’s.  Here I was particularly intrigued by one title:  ”Greenwich Village:  A Guide to America’s Legendary Left Bank,” by Judith Stonehill.  Hmmmm, I thought.  What I had seen so far did possess some of the same qualities as Paris’s Left Bank.  The book included “four walking tours with maps to explore Greenwich Village with the artists, writers, bohemians and blithe spirits who congregate here.”  This neighborhood appeared increasingly more interesting to me as each minute passed.  I put down the book though knowing that I’d be leaving the city by the end of the day.

Pastel-Colored Temptations at Magnolia Bakery

Inside Magnolia, the rich smell of butter and sugar clung to the heavy, humid air.  Towering layer cakes beneath large, glass domes garnered most of my attention, but I soon moved on to the cupcakes set out primly in the far corner of this old-fashioned looking cake shop.  I asked for a dozen and was promptly told “to serve myself.”  I hovered for a while in front of their multifarious assortment, deliberating between chocolate with vanilla frosting, chocolate with chocolate frosting, vanilla/vanilla—well, you get the idea—until I heard a sigh behind me that seemed to indicate you’d better hustle along.  I made a point of picking out some of the Red Velvets, a cocoa-charged confection that John had talked about at great length the night before.  (A southern specialty, these are made with cocoa powder and red apple cider vinegar that actually burns off during the baking process.  Some red food coloring is also added.)  Cupcakes are priced at $2.50 a piece; $3.00 for the Red Velvets.

Accustomed to the finishing touches offered at even your most basic boulangerie, I was expecting my boxes to be done up with ribbon, or at the very least, string.  A few pieces of tape was the best they could manage.  Upon tasting them later, I was still not very impressed, since I found the cakes to be a little too dense for my liking.  (In all fairness, however, I read afterward that their cupcakes should never be put in the fridge and unfortunately ours had been.)  Nevertheless all this made me wonder if the tourists that line up outside of Berthillon, Paris’s most celebrated ice cream shop, esteem that their treats are worth the fuss or not.

I made my way back toward Hudson Street where I had begun the day.  Another downpour forced me to seek refuge at Petite Abeille, an adorable restaurant offering Belgian specialties including waffles and mussels and lesser known dishes such as Waterzooi (fish stew) and stoemp (mashed potatoes, carrots and onions cooked in bacon fat).  I sat at one of the little tables draped in blue-and-white checked tablecloths, sipped a Bellini, anticipated my lunchtime meeting with a good friend and reflected upon all the wonderful times I enjoyed in Belgium, beginning at the age of sixteen when I did an exchange with a Belgian girl by the name of Chantal.  Yes, I’ll admit that for my first few years of speaking French, my accent was undeniably Belgian yet also full of warmth and whimsy, just like this little restaurant, just like the West Village I had come to know in less than twenty-four hours.  

Malatesta, 649 Washington Street, 212-741-1207

Eskimix, Bleecker and Grove, 212-206-6828, www.eskimix.com

Out of the Kitchen!, 420 Hudson Street, 212-242-0399, www.outofthekitchenonline.com

Salon de Oasis, 107 Christopher Street, 212-337-9812

Avalon Salon & Day Spa, 112 Christopher Street, 212-337-1966, www.avalonspa.citysearch.com

McNulty’s Tea & Coffee Co., Inc., 109 Christopher Street, 212-242-5351; www.mcnultys.com

Biography Bookshop Inc., 400 Bleecker St. (@11th Street), 212-807-8655; www.nymag.com/listings/stores/biography_bookshop/

Magnolia Bakery, 401 Bleecker Street, 212-462-2572, www.magnoliabakery.com

Petite Abeille, 466 Hudson Street, 212-741-6479, www.petiteabeille.com

Hotel Suggestion

Jane Hotel, 113 Jane Street, 212-924-6700; www.thejanenyc.com

On an Even More Personal Note

Memories of my dear brother Phil accompanied me throughout the researching and writing of this story.  It has been almost fifteen years to this day that he passed all too soon.  He was one of John’s best friends.  I am grateful to John for his friendship and for his help in keeping Phil’s memory alive.

Close Encounters in Denver

I’m a real people person. But I like being alone a lot, too. I often like traveling by myself, at least part of the time. Sometimes I just need to be on my own schedule without having to consider another’s wants or needs. I also have more encounters—interesting or otherwise—when I’m alone.

The Lobby at Denver’s Hotel Monaco

This turned out to be the case recently at Denver’s Hotel Monaco. I was to stay at this stylish hotel a couple of nights before flying out to the east coast. When I arrived, their wine hour was in full swing. I made a mental note to be sure to check it out the next evening. The hotel’s boldly colored lobby beckoned.

After the bellman provided me with a brief tour of the room, I noticed a goldfish in a big round bowl on the desk. I peered down at it and read the adjoining notice that talked some about the fish, its environment and what not to do to it. I learned that I was not to share the crumbs from my granola bar—or anything else—with it for example. I looked at it again and registered one thought: gimmicky.

Hercules and Friend

The next day was devoted to catching up with my laptop, so I ended up spending many, many hours in my room. I ducked out a few times to take a little walk and to run errands. Each time I welcomed some kind of contact with the outside world and was greatly rewarded by the warmth and affection of some of the hotel guests, namely the many four-legged ones I encountered that were leading their trendy looking masters around every turn. Being a big animal lover (and craving episodic interaction that day), I stopped many a pooch to coo and comment about the cuteness of these visiting pups. I met a nine-week old French bulldog, a Border Terrier, a Cocker Spaniel and Hercules, a Golden Shih Tzu that also happened to be the mascot and Pet Relations Manager of this super pet friendly hotel. I enjoyed my exchanges with these doggies more than the ones I experienced with my fellow two-legged guests.

A New Acquaintance

This contact made going back to my desk a lot easier. Then a funny thing happened. I noticed I was paying more attention to the fish. I found myself turning off the desk lamp for fear that it was too bright for it, and then I began to look down at it each time I returned and found myself saying hello. Once I even said, “Hi, I’m back.” I chuckled after that one but continued to become increasingly interested in this orangey-colored creature. I found myself gazing over at it periodically between paragraphs. I was becoming attached.

I worked a little more, then decided to head down to the wine hour where I found an attractive group of people sipping wine and mingling about in a highly convivial manner. Still, it seemed as though most were paired off or involved in their own little group of friends, so I zeroed in on the only apparent single man in the room and took the seat next to him. He presumably had already spotted me as well, so he wasted no time in chatting me up. He tossed a barrage of questions my way like a knife thrower at a carnival. I did my best to remain polite. Was this guy so incredibly dull that he had to know so much about my life? What about the art of revealing oneself slowly and skillfully, so that the other person quietly yearns to know more?

I sat back on the striped armchair and sipped my perfectly chilled Pinot Grigio. “Excuse me while I take a few notes,” I finally insisted as I looked around at the whimsical décor. I loved the Big Top feel of this hotel. Normally I would have shared this thought and many more with someone over wine, but in this case I thought it best to remain silent. He searched for more. I said nothing hoping he’d take this as a sign. He didn’t.

“It was nice meeting you, but I have to get back to my fish,” I said as I stood up to leave.

At least that wasn’t a lie. I did have much more work and I knew that that sweet fish would keep me company all evening. I said goodbye to my little guy when I left the next morning. If I ever stay at the Monaco again, I’m sure next time I’ll get around to naming him.

Hotel Monaco Denver, 1717 Champa Street at 17th, 800-990-1303 and 303-296-1717, www.monaco-denver.com

Spray Tanning: Bronzage in a Bottle

The Peaks Resort & Spa

The days were ticking by in Telluride before I was to leave for a month of travels. As with every pre-trip departure, I had a ton to do. But I was prioritizing my chores and a last-minute beauty treatment had made it to the top of my list.

My mountain pallor wasn’t going to cut it back east where I knew I’d be sporting all kinds of summery attire including a bathing suit. Although it can be delightfully warm—even downright hot—in Telluride in the summer, we do typically have a good amount of rain and cool weather, so it can be a challenge to build up much color, especially if you spend a lot of time at your desk. (The little tan I had was truly a hiker’s tan, so clearly I needed some quick evening out.)

I set up an appointment for a spray tanning, one of the newest services added to the many treatments offered at the Golden Door Spa at The Peaks, Telluride’s landmark resort. I had already seen one girl that had been spray tanned this spring and I was truly amazed by the results.

Peaks Spa Treatment

Lisa, a very bronzed and friendly blond, ushered me into the tiled space and proceeded to explain the treatment. I opted to wear the throw-away thong she had laid out for me but decided to forego the mini-bra. I stood there quite naked and rather chilled while she coerced the machine into motion. Finally the spray shot out with a burst of cool air. She deftly maneuvered the long hose as it chuffed and wheezed like a vacuum. Organic beet juice blew out from the bottle attached to it, turning my skin a honey brown right before my eyes.

“O.K., now lift up your left arm. Good, turn out the inside of your leg. Yeah, that’s right. Now the other leg. A little more,” she politely commanded with all the concentration of a dedicated artist.

I was grateful that she was so sweet and conscientious or else I might have felt completely ridiculous standing there in my birthday suit in front of this complete stranger in my many highly revealing poses.

We stopped to assess the coverage and my degree of brownness. I turned to notice that my back end was nicely covered although it partially resembled a hot cross bun since the thong had left a strip of white up the middle, just off center enough to appear odd.

Totally undeterred, Lisa set out to remedy the problem as I discarded my last shred of modesty by throwing out the thong.

Finally I appeared ready for the beach.

Lisa stood there chatting with me as I dried next to a heat lamp sandwiched in between two fans. She talked about how she had made the conversion from extensive tanning bed use to spray tanning.

“This way is so much better for your health,” she emphasized.

I found all of this interesting but by now I was ready to put my clothes on and go home. I wasn’t quite dry though, so I stood there and baked like a chicken beneath a warming lamp in the deli while Lisa ducked out to deal with another client. I never had any patience for laying in the sun, so even the twenty minutes of drying required here seemed long. Just as I thought I was good to go, I touched my chest for doneness. The tan came off on my finger and I was left with a white patch. I reached for a Kleenex to smooth it out and ended up creating more damage. I gingerly put on my clothes (I had no other choice!) and padded out to see Lisa.

She couldn’t have been nicer but still, she seemed somewhat disconcerted by my predicament once she took a look at my chest back in the treatment room. She sprayed on some more until the patches turned medium brown and the rest looked the color of mahogany. I fretted.

“Come back tomorrow and we’ll fix you. It’s best not to fool with it anymore today,” she explained.

“But I won’t have a minute tomorrow,” I practically whined. “I’m leaving for a month.”

She dusted me copiously with baby powder so that I could safely dress and go. I was happy not to have to stand naked any longer in this chilly room in front of someone I had met just an hour ago.

“Don’t worry. You’d be surprised how this works itself into the skin overnight.”

I mumbled something about exfoliation, words I’m sure she perceived as a threat. She suggested that I perhaps just rub it all gently the next morning with one of my netted puffs and shower gel. I shuffled off with a dreaded feeling in my stomach, imagining that now I’d look like some kind of a giraffe in my beautiful decolletés (plunging necklines).

I could hardly wait to jump into the shower the next day. I quickly saw a flood of beet juice swirl down the drain. I braced myself and looked down at my chest: It was an even and luscious shade of brown. I gasped as I realized I had started to wash my belly with the netted puff. Pouf! Much of that golden tan was now rubbed off. I grabbed a bar of soap and completed the job. I knew from now on, I’d be careful to lightly wash my face and body and then pat myself dry. I loved my new summer look and I quietly vowed to preserve it. I was told my spray tan could last as many as fourteen days and I was determined to eke out every bit of its golden glow.

Peaks Resort & Golden Door Spa, Telluride, 970-728-6800, www.thepeaksresort.com

Bienvenue! Welcome!

A More Frenchie Me on the Main Street of Telluride

Well, I’ve done it.  Or at least it’s the beginning.  A totally non-tech savvy person such as myself managed to get a blog up and running.  I’ve been hungry to share with you the many discoveries I make throughout my travels and at home here in Telluride, Colorado.    I’m constantly finding a shop, hotel, restaurant, spa, product or other attraction (including people!) that I want to report on.

I also wanted to be able to reveal to you a little bit more of moi since so many people seem to be curious about how I came to live in Paris, France for over a decade, then traded it out for a totally different lifestyle in the Rocky Mountains.  Actually there are many similarities between Paris and Telluride:  both are amazingly beautiful, culturally rich, sophisticated places.  Most of the people you find living in Paris and Telluride tend to be open-minded and rather nonconformist.  And visitors to these world-renowned destinations often stand awestruck by the beauty and grandeur of these locales, whether it be manmade or natural.

Full disclosure:  I didn’t set up this blog by myself.  Thank you to fellow Telluriders Mary Dawn DeBraie, from Alpen Schatz, and her partner, Michael Mowery, for helping to kick-start the process.  Mary Dawn and I share a passion for well-crafted European goods and alpine art de vivre.

Many thanks to Jim Berkowitz who stepped in at the eleventh hour to put me in touch with the right person that could get my blog up and rolling.  Jim is a computer whizz who also happens to be part of the KOTO family, the same Telluride-based radio station where I produce Travel Fun, my talk show on travel.  Jim’s show, Jazz Beat, is a nationally-recognized program that’s a must for neophytes and jazz aficionados alike.

Cary Snowden and Jessie, from Square Compass, are just the right people that I found out about through Jim.  I greatly appreciate all that they did to help me.

Thank you to Roy Steele, from Inside Outside Design, for the creative input.  I worked with Roy for over seven years on TheRichesof Web site and enjoyed getting to know him both professionally and personally.  (Know that this blog will completely replace that site.)

I extend un très grand merci to Mark Eversman, from Paris Notes.  Mark has encouraged, coaxed, and prodded me along throughout this whole blog development, an arduous task that lasted the better part of a year.  He has pushed me to better define myself in order to cohesively present my mélange of interests (and perhaps personalities!) to my audience.  I feel very fortunate to be the recipient of his advice since I consider his Paris Notes Web site and newsletter to be la référence for information and stories about the French capital.  We had met only once some thirteen years ago tucked within the haute décor of the newly opened Café Marly in Paris.  We have, however, enjoyed (for the most part) an engaging relationship by phone and e-mail throughout the years, especially this past year.  Sometimes I adore him; other times I think he’s a pain in the you-know-what.  I’m quite sure he’d say the same about me.  More on Mark later…