The truth is, we woke on the kitchen floor.
What are we doing here? How did we get—
It was just after
midnight on Sunday and the Cameo marquee proclaimed TONY MORAN 2NITE—with wunderkind Ross Berger on
the lights. The Sunday night party of a stellar Winter Party
Festival weekend. All day, all afternoon at the Beach Party,
everyone was just so damn—SOCIAL! And that weather—as flawless as
the boyz—and now it was another ambrosial Miami night as those
heart-stopping boyz poured into Cameo and packed the floor—and the
balconies and the stairs, the catwalks and the crow’s nest. From
one end to the other—across the vastness of Cameo’s sightlines, it
was circuit family reunion—bringing to mind that sign on a recent
cruise: THIS IS THE FAMILY WE CHOOSE.
And who wouldn’t want a family like this?
Toned and delicious, as happy as a pack of puppies. So much youth!
So much vitality! It’s so good to know that The Task Force sees the
future—and the future is YOUNG!
Those boyz were werqing the boxes—in the room’s
center and alongside the booth, where Tony was stoking the fire,
preparing for full throttle, while Ross set the stage with washes,
flashes and bursts. The two of them working in tandem—Tony and
Ross, consummate professionals. They know their job; they love
their job—or as Tony put it later, in a song, “Music is my love, my
When all the components are in place—the Beach,
a gorgeous club, maestros in the booth, and boyz in every nook and
cranny—there’s no better place to be. And with so much going on,
every moment crammed with over-stimulation—it’s good to lock eyes
with a newbie—see the wide eyes and slack jaw—and see it again,
And here’s what he saw: a sea of gorgeous skin—WHAT
IN THE WORLD IS IN THE WATER DOWN HERE???—moving together,
feeling the music. That sense of safety, of belonging together.
This is where I choose to be—and I could hardly be happier.
There’s so much celebration. Birthday boyz
bringing in another year—they only get better. “I swear,” someone
says to us, “He gets better-looking every time I see him.” And
considering how much we’ve seen him this weekend—we’re talking near
People from all over—South
America and Europe—and those New Yorkers—is anyone left in Manhattan
this weekend? And then, the locals: the Miami Beach glamour posse.
Ridiculously beautiful, as ambitious about the bod as others are
about the mind. Oh, deliciously depraved narcissism—fan the flames!
You can try and focus—on something. Tony’s
churning backbeat, for example. Stop and really listen. Hear what
he’s doing, how it’s forceful and propulsive. How it’s moving us
forward, at lightning speed. Orbitting us into the galaxy. The
symphonic spread of it, with touches of romanticism. And then,
factor in the lights: Ross synchronizing his blasts to mirror the
music’s drama. Between the two of them, there’s a complete
narrative—a narrative complemented by the mini-telenovelas playing
out around the club.
For example, those two—THOSE TWO!!!—up on the
catwalk, high above the crowd, in the spot and newly together—ready
for primetime t.v. And down on the floor, a couple boyz on a box
wrestling for their spot in the light. And off to the side, over
there, that irrepressible jack-in-the-box from Equinox whose natural
expression is a perpetual grin. And there’s Adorable Superman
werking white shades. And up by the booth—could it be?—a brand-new
It Boy making his debut. He looks the part: that effortless beauty,
a radiant smile. Who amongst us is immune to his charms? Who
wouldn’t be smitten?
And as Tony segues into “Freedom,” there, in
the center of the floor, the sweetest boy with his arms raised, a
picture of perfect bliss. “Shine the light on my freedom”—it’s the
freedom to be—who we are.
Upstairs is packed, with pole dancers
auditioning for Madonna—recreating The Girlie Show as
showcases for themselves. Everyone’s performing—showcasing their
more fabulous alter egos.
And then Tony throws down “Try My Love,” and
the crowd gives him props. Nitrogen blasts envelop the floor,
making the floor even more cohesive—one crowd moving as one.
There’s safety here, on the floor, and freedom—and joy.
And therein lies the point: the whole point and
everything in between—let freedom reign. Let us be who we are.
It’s a mission the Task Force understands: equality for us all. And
it’s a mission inculcated in the hundreds of ever-gracious and
conscientious volunteers seen throughout the Winter Party Festival.
Freedom and equality: it’s what we’re fighting for—and why Winter
Party exists. Let’s Orbit there again.