Fagnet, the Chic Magnet

(from left to right: moi, Kim, Melissa, Louie, Sandy, and Dave)

Why is it that gay men seem to exude style and chic-ness effortlessly, whether it's cuisine, clothing, or something as mundane as a (designer) corkscrew?

My gay "parents" Dave and Louie recently invited me to a semi-housewarming at their lovely new apartment in Astoria. I'd been forewarned that the place "was not yet ready" and that they "have not fully unpacked."

I'd expected boxes and dusty furniture to greet me at the doorway but instead I was met with soft, plush carpeting, high-priced home accoutrements and sleek electronics. I oohed and ahhed in between mouthfuls of salmon and cream cheese canapes and a modest (but tasty) spread of exotic soft cheeses, assembled in the cute corner kitchen.

Bottles of red and white wine fueled this relaxing get-together of mostly *girls* and by midnight everybody had reached a giddy buzz. Louie then opened the zebra-print chest (that currently doubles as the living room's low table) and unearthed his grandmother's vintage fur(!) collection—and everyone got camera-ready as you can see!


Somewhere between fur fittings and a viewing of Cutting Edge ("We're doing the Pam-chengco!") the couple nicknamed me 'Fagnet'—a classier(?) take on the fag hag.

I really don't mind. These days I am seriously getting an incredibly thorough glimpse of Manhattan's *gay* scene, and I feel like a queen floating around in the requisite Cher bob/wig. Last Friday Dave took me to see Little Mermaid on Broadway and I got a taste of not one, but two Midtown and Chelsea hotspots in one night, also thanks to Joseph Aloysius, my friend's va-va-voom brother.

Despite the initial culture-shock (heterosexual couples doing PDA already make me uncomfortable, what more two guys in liplock?) I found a certain lightheartedness and fun hanging out with the inherently stylish gender. "Just don't date them," my boss warned.

Well, the premise that they are not exactly date-able creates a happy buffer that makes life easier, and much, much fun :)

But no, I'm not gonna start saying "Charing!" just yet. I'll leave that to the true-blue hags ;)

My NY "parents" Dave and Louie—aren't they gorgeous?

"One, two, three...fur. Tell me what you're looking fur."