I'd seen the Belvedere before when on Fire Island but was never really there for any period of time let alone stay there, except when one year we went to a pool party there. It was definitely something. When Fire Island virgins first take the nighttime ferry from Sayville to Cherry Grove, it's a unique sensation that occurs as they approach. Towering above the multitude of tiny summer cottages is a baroque beacon, a shimmering palace that is so wonderfully out of place, that it seems to fit right in yet. But I wondered how an Italian palazzo ended up off the coast of this island?
Well after blowin the current owner, I got the story, Just kidding, just kidding!!! Or am I? LOL. I did ask and found out this iconic Venetian inspired guest house for men was established in 1957 by self-taught artist and set designer John Eberhardt. He has built over 50 of the islands homes too. Modeled after Venetian palazzos, the castle like white facade features ornate towers, domes and a consecrated baroque chapel. Eberhardt hand painted interior trompe l'oeil murals and decorated the rooms with European antiques. I was even told the mayor of Venice even gifted the hotel a city flag. For nearly 70 years it has operated as a historic vacation oasis and one of the oldest continuously running queer spaces on the island. It wasn't till 1984 it transitioned into a male only clothing optional guesthouse right during the HIV'AIDS crisis.
Our room
Queens getting frisky?
Some of the clan, with the baring of MM #1 Fan's assets.
Naked yoga! My view with breakfast one day! Now that is a sight you don't see every morning.
This was Not my room to settle rumors.
Fire Island...such a fun place and nowhere else like it. The Belvedere has passed down through three generations, managed and owned by Eberhardt first, then adopted son and partner Craig, and now owned and managed by Craig's husband Julian Dorcelien Eberhardt, who sadly told me he is putting it up for sale as it takes all your time up running the place. It is listed in the millions currently. I hope it find a good owner and keep the traditions going. I mean, who doesn't like seeing men doing naked yoga while enjoying breakfast? And then the tea dances!
Look at the sunset taken from The Belvedere Hotel.
It had been two summers since I last visited Fire Island, the undisputed, glitter-dusted matriarch of the LGBT beach resorts. The place where heteronormativity goes to die and drag queens go to thrive. The whole island is a great time, but our clan this time was staying in Cherry Grove, who thanks to Preston got us three rooms at the Belvedere thanks to a connection. If you get the chance to go...GO! I said every gay person could benefit from a trip here once. I just adore it. The place is so special...all the troubles left outside from the world and then for this moment on the island for everybody to forget about it all and let loose. Because we have to have balance, otherwise the world is a misery, and I do believe serenity and peace are found on this island and the dances floors here. Everyone here has a good time and that's what it is all about...there is unity, and freedom and fun and festivity here. And if the Pines is the polished gym-sculpted young buff brother, Cherry Grove is the eccentric fun-loving aunt who mixes a pitcher of martinis at 1pm and has a story about Studio 54. It's lovely...you take a ferry there and one can ride a ferry that whole time there if you choose! There are no cars...just sand and a labyrinth of wooden boardwalks and an intoxicating sense of absolute freedom. You can wear a gown into town, a speedo to dinner or absolutely nothing at all on the clothing optional beaches.
Only on Fire Island
Pearly playing bartender, or just standing there.
Preston getting demure
My gams!
The Lad in our doorway. With perky nipples.
My unexpected delight to see ginger Brody! First time I met a reader naked. Took my breath away. That is all I'm saying on that!
Ah and darling, you want to talk the Meat Rack? Now we are getting to the truly legendary untamed heart of the island. The Grove is the open-air theater, the Pines is the runway, and the meat rack is the seedy backstage dressing room where the real magic, and mischief happens! Since the 1950's the meat rack has reigned supreme as the world's most famous, historic and delightfully racy and scandalous cruising ground of them all. And they ain't there looking at sea views darlings! It's a must!
Preston, the Lad, Brody, MM#1 Fan and myself came upon this in the meat rack!!!! The guy, Fred was kind enough to let me make him blog fodder! Another guy came along and that turned into quite the scene, while we enjoyed the popcorn. Or something like that.
Love this place. A great way to end the summer with the whole clan and joined by blog reader Brody for a meat up, huh.... I mean meet up, yes, hehe, and Pearly, who jumped Ptown and who talked the Mistress into a special appearance at the pool show at Ice Palace she hosted with resident queen... with my own brand of drone dramatics. No one expected the drone to bring me a lighter. I never leave home with at least one ensemble and wig.
I'm happy to report that the little murderess while I was on holiday, got two field mice, and I understand consumed them. Otherwise, was good as gold. At least till my first night back. While sitting in the back garden one night, I saw something of considerable size walking the garden, but before I could start rounding her up, Sophie saw it and was off after it. I got to her with the fear of my voice and thank heavens...it was a juvenile possum and it was playing dead on its side. Once in the house I went back out and it was gone. Whew. They really do play dead. But she did get a new toy from Provincetown to keep her occupied. She takes it everywhere so far till she tires of it.
And lately she has been napping very un-lady like.
I'm not sure where she learns laying spread eagled.
This first picture about sums up the weekend around here! What with being gone for around three weeks in amongst other events, and playing catch up with everything since being back, this weekend was spent relaxing, and with the beach No'easter, rain and dank were here all weekend. You know what I did? Absolutely nothing! I have been in the throes of a huge marathon of a favorite Brit mystery show, Foyle's War. I loved that show years ago. And with exception to baking some homemade bread and stuffed peppers I did nothing! Hell, cards on the table, lived in my briefs all weekend! Now I did break once in a while to get caught up also on the first three episodes of American Horror Story, who appears to have finally gotten their mojo back after a very disastrous last several seasons. I didn't even watch it last season. The acting is top notch again, swanky sets, slick plot twist, and favorite actors are back, with Jessica Lange, Evan Walker, Frances Conroy, Kathy Bates, Angela Bassett, and John Waters, who's downright creepy, among many others with the addition of Joey Pollari. Who may or may not have given me all kinds of naughty fantasies of he and I in all kinds of dirty comprising positions. So there was that.
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