Back when Kate Moss was knee-high to a pop-sock, crinoline was the new black and the name on everybody’s lips was Nell Gwyn, there was a magazine that was actually worth the paper it was printed on. More, even. It was The Face. And when it wasn’t being sued by Jason Donovan for daring to suggest he was same-sex oriented (no, it will never lie), it was producing editorial that people actually remember, and photography that people cut out and stuck on their bedroom walls. Like this one, with said Kate Moss, as shot by the wonderful Corinne Day (and we’re not ones to bandy about ‘wonderful’ like it were a tart looking for a footballer, so you know we mean it). And, just over a year since her death, an exhibition of Corinne’s early work is going on show at the Gimpel Fils gallery, from 1st September until 1st October. It is called Corrine Day: The Face, and all the right people will be going.
The last Jake party was what is known in the business as a smash hit success, with the gorgeous Eight Club fit to bursting with gays-about-town until the latest of earliest hours. And rather than let the grass grow beneath our proverbials, we’ve gone and organised another. This time we’re taking in the sumptuous surroundings of the Cavendish Club (formerly No. 5 Cavendish Square), which has had a whole bunch of money thrown at it and come out the other end even more delicious than ever. And seeing as it’s now all bright eyed and bushy tailed (steady!), they’re throwing open the doors to us lot on Thursday 8th September, from 6.30. Expect free drinks on arrival, all the right gays, and a preview of some of the juicy stuff we have in store for Jake (that’s pricked up your ears, right?).
Oh, and seeing as it’s only two weeks off, best get RSVPing.
You thought London had everything and yet there was a glaring hole right there, staring at us: the over-18s gay pop-up ice-cream parlour! How did we manage without it? What were we doing with ourselves? Put together by The Icecreamists, the jolly japesters behind breast milk ice-cream, which you might have read about, it’s pop-up-ness means it will only be around as the world’s only gay ice-cream bar until the end of September. Expect attention-seeking antics, topless men, nipples and flavours such as Brokeback Mountain, which has two bananas and some crushed nuts and a fruity Glastonberry. We’re not sure whether to recommend the vanilla ice-cream facial or not. Oh, go on, while you’re down there.
You’ll find Queens of the Dessert (what else could it possibly be called) at 15 Maiden Lane, WC2.
A mad plastic surgeon, a woman kept captive, a revolutionary new human skin, an attempted rape, sophisticated interiors, a man kept underground in just his dirty underpants… it can only be the new movie from Spanish enfant terrible Pedro Almodóvar. It’s called The Skin I Live In and quite apart from being right up there with his best (though we still like Pepi, Luci, Bom the best), it also marks his reunion with Antonio Banderas who first came to the world’s (and Madonna’s) attention through his collaborations with Tio Pedro. He’s referred to the movie as horror without the screams but it still has the campiness and the humour that you would expect from our maestro. The Skin I Live In opens today, Friday. Which is tomorrow for some.
When it comes to television, rarely if ever has a programme had so much class. In fact it has class coming out of its ass. It is Page Eight and it is David Hare’s first original screenplay in two whole decades. The cast reads like a dream – Bill Nighy, Rachel Weisz, Judy Davis, Ralph Fiennes – while the theme of a dodgy government having its cover blown by MI5 couldn’t be more apposite. Add dialogue that crackles like a log fire, London looking even sexier than it does on The Apprentice and some lovely jazz bubbling along and you are looking at a one-installment argument to be used against those who still think it’s smart not to have a television in the house. The philistines! Page Eight is on BBC2 at 9pm on Sunday, 28th August.
‘Moving’, ‘funny’, ‘powerful’, ‘hot man in pants’… the accolades for Confessions of a Mormon Boy have been off the scale. The basic everyday story of a good Mormon lad who becomes a high-class hooker and major drugs whore in New York City, Confessions was an off-Broadway hit and it’s coming to London. And not only do we highly recommend it, we have used all our best contacts to wangle a meet and a greet (with alcohol in the room) for Jake members and the guy in pants. His name – he has a name, rude! – is Steven Fales and he will be meeting and greeting, mixing and mingling with you lot, a glass of fizz in his hand on Monday, 19th September at the Charing Cross Theatre, just across the tunnel from Heaven off Villiers Street. All you have to do to get yourself into that champagne reception is book a ticket – just £15 – which means you’re already five golden coins the richer than if you were just any old one buying a ticket! – at www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk. Enter the code ‘Jake’ to get the package (there’s a smutty joke in there somewhere if you want it). You can also phone the box office on 020 7907 7075. Warning: Steven will probably be wearing trousers during the meet and greet. Wise man. You will have had a glass of champagne!
We can count the number of things that will drag us non-kicking and screaming across the river on two fingers… one we can’t mention here without a bit of US-style puritanical pixellation, the other is Downtown, that cracking night of homosexual dancing on the roof of Brixton Clubhouse, a place which, according to our notes, is ‘notorious’.
A collaboration (or coalition, to be news angle-y about it) between Room Service and MEAT (two of the hottest nights in the whole of gay London Town), Downtown makes its final appearance of 2011 this Bank Holiday Sunday, August 28th from 3pm until midnight. We’d write a bit more but we’d just be repeating what’s on the poster (big, isn’t it!), and time is money is drinking, apparently.