Swan Ball 2012: Looking good at 50. And the hat.

The Swan Ball issue of Nfocus has hit the stands, which reminds me I need to follow up on my June adventure to Nashville with a proper Swan Ball post.

This year was the 50th Swan Ball, and accordingly there was much pomp and plenty of circumstance.  I was invited to the ball both as guest and writer, and for a time was going to try to pull double duty as a  columnist for Nfocus and an escort for my recently widowed mother.  This was the first Ball without Dad, and Mom really considered not going, despite how much she loves the Ball.  But as the 50th anniversary, she was being honored not only in her role as past Co-Chair, but also four decades of tireless service to the Committee.  I'm glad she went, and we did get to spend some fun time together even though I was not her escort for the evening.

I always look for an able to write about when commenting on the Ball, but there have been fewer and fewer ribald incidents the farther removed I am from the "young people" making them.  That, and now that the stories I do hear wind up in print, I rend to hear fewer stories.

This year, as the golden anniversary, I really enjoyed chatting up past Chairmen, most of whom are close friends of me or my mother, and getting their favorite memories of San Balls past.  It was amusing to note that sometimes their most remarkable memory may not be their favorite memory.  Many thanks to Betty, Nicky, Em and of course Fran for their recollections.  My write up of these anecdotes, The Swan Ball at 50: We Should All Hope to Look This Good, is on Nashville stands now and online. (The new Nfocus Web site is completely jacked but at least you can link directly to this article if you click.  The print edition, unfortunately, features a typo in the first sentence and it is still grating on me.  The web version appears clean.)










So other than brief mentions before, here's the story not in the magazine:

So... Aretha Franklin was the dinner entertainment for this year's ball.  Sure she's a diva...correction... she's THE diva, but I thought for sure as such she must have a sense of humor about her iconic status.  When I heard that Aretha was performing, and that my brother Mac, one of the two live auctioneers for the night, was going to be introducing her, I could only think of one thing:

Yeah. Aretha. Hat.

Mac needed some schtick for the introduction, and to announce after her performance that the next round of auction items were up for bid in the loge, and he turned to me to brainstorm. Again, all I could think of was this:


C'mon.

The inauguration hat became a freaking meme for heaven's sakes.

Consider:




So, crafty little snark bucket that I am, I whipped up this for Mac Friday afternoon. Not bad if I say so myself:


Let's compare side by side.


Apologies for the self-indulgence, but it still cracks me up.

James told me tonight that he showed the pic to his friends, and they thought it was great.  They also thought it was the size of a broach—something small he could wear pinned to his tailcoat.  Oh hell no.  I totally Beach Blanket Babylon'ed this shit.  

As it turns out, part of Aretha's rider is that you cannot introduce her or say her name. Seriously. Her own people do that. So neither Mac nor Jeffrey really introduced her. And good thing he did not wear her hat as apparently she did not find any of the evening amusing and was terribly difficult to work with. But hey, she is THE diva and she has well earned it, so no love lost from me.


But all in all, after reports of those who coordinated with her, I am glad she never saw my hat. I'd be a bit afraid of what her people might have done to me.

But for the rest of us, it was hilarious. We ere concerned that a room full of wealthy white Republicans may not have gotten up nearly to watch the black Democrat be inaugurated as President of the United States and thus would not get the joke. We also dedided that if only a dozen people got the joke, those would be the people we were playing to anyway. This joke was for them. Our people. PLU. Right. On.




And yeah, the PLU loved it.






You can tell by the crowds of people around Mari-kate that it was well past Everyone Else Has Already Left O'Clock. We rocked the hat a bit late in the night.

Grey Goose was one of the sponsors, but the bartenders were told not to pour from the hundreds of bottles of the L'Orange as those were just for show. Ultimately, my peeps came through for me and the spice did flow.

Normally I leave the lime if asked. Once they started adding the twists, it was a helpful way to keep count of how many I had.


Four drinks, four limes... but there comes a time when there are so many limes there is no more room for vodka and you have to start over. One, two again... Just sayin'.

Other special highlights of my Swan Ball night:

Spending time with one of my all time favorite people whom I rarely get to hang with: Whitney Daane. And her awesome shoes.


Visiting with Drake and Christina Jarman, who was wearing the gown custom designed for her husband's grandmother for the very first Swan Ball.


Partying with the fun kids, like the always adorable Emily Bond (I love to tell people that her father's honest-to-God name is James Bond. Which is in fact honest-to-God true.) Only she would bring such an awesome beaded clutch to the bluest of blue blood formals.


Recognizing the surreal inherent in such an event. Like this auction item that went for many thousands of dollars: A Special Swan Ball Edition Browning Citori 12 Gauge Shotgun. Seriously? Someone is going to feel all manly and superior to his buddies showing off the Swan Ball shotgun in the duck blind? I suppose it's a collectors piece, but honestly. This was one of the best WTF!? moments for me that night.


Dancing with my amazing mother:


(And coming home past four in the morning to find her in a dressing gown in the kitchen eating White Castle. Come ON that's awesome.)

I do have to say the highlight by far came far into the night/early morning, in meeting and dancing with a pleasant surprise.


Entirely unexpected at the Swan Ball. Right On indeed.

"Once upon a time...

...there were three little girls who went to the Police Academy."

Also not going into my Swan Ball column.

the craftsmanship on both were impressive

Exchange NOT going in my Swan Ball column—

Looking at a woman and her gown at the center of photographers' attention:

"Wow, that is a LOT of work."
"Yeah, you don't whip that up on a Singer overnight."
"I meant her face."

Summer lovin', had me a blast

May 2010 was a ridiculously good time.  As some of you may recall, I took Shilpa and PeeDee home to Nashville for the races (the Iroquois Steeplechase), and stayed a few weeks for quality time with the family and then wrapped up the vacation with the Swan Ball.  As usual, every moment was accounted for, so while there was much to blog about there was no protected time for doing so.  I could barely find half an hour to crank out my race articles for Nfocus, which I did at Fido's after dropping the kids off at BNA (or rather, parted ways at Prince's Hot Chicken). 

I never got around to backblogging, but the 1,200 or so photos from the weekend certainly tell a story (a thousand pictures is worth how many words?).  I have finally gotten around to posting the Nfocus articles from May and June though, so here they are.  Rereading/formatting these made the cold little studio feel a little like summer again.

Steeplechase bits:  Mr. Fancy Pants and No Glass on the Grass
Swan Ball:  Church Clothes and The Butterfly Affections

personal swan song (Swan Ball 2008.05)

To put the Swan Ball weekend to rest, I wanted to put down my personal notes on the event and not just the Nfocus stuff. First off, the design was beautiful. It was just right (as opposed to too much, as is so easy to do with a budget like theirs) and cleverly crafted. I missed Jim Mees, but this year's designer did an amazing job. And it kills me that he's my age. Or younger. I've blocked it out. As much as I think this is what I always wanted to do, at the same time I think I might not like the mania, the insecurity, constant travel, and related stresses. Eh.

I also think it's cool that the designer is the son of Sandy's college roommate. (Sandy is Carrington's mom and one of my best friends. I came out to her long before I did to my own parents.)

Sinclair Kelly was a joy to be around, as always, and many thanks to her and Ellen for contriving a way to get me to come home this weekend.


And to Heather too, who rounded out my trio of Nfocus Angels.


The entertainment at the Swan Ball this year was DIANA ROSS. And how fracking cool was that? I left annoying voice mails on several friends' phones saying I was only 20 feet away. And of course she looked fabulous. And three wardrobe changes in an hour set. Impressive. I heard about all the riders in her contract and thought they were insanely ridiculous, but the woman basically invented the modern diva and so I think she can be excused. (I got the following pic from someone else who shared their photos of the evening.)


Miss Ross was the perfect entertainer for this generation. The younger folks rushed the stage. My mother and her friend stood and danced on chairs to see.


I freaking LOVE my mother.

Papa John, who has a hard time standing and walking, enjoyed it too.


The only thing casting a pall over the weekend, unfortunately literally, was the death of Mary Ann Harwell, step-mother to my best friend Jonathan. And on his birthday no less. My love goes out to all the Harwells, and my esteem of the younger Johnny, who has held everyone together throughout, only grows.

Final overheard:

Mom and Dad were looking at my Swan Ball photos on Sunday morning. They particularly liked this one...


...and asked who it was. I had no idea. Mom thought they (Nfocus) should run the photo and ask people to identify the man.

Then another another photo grabbed their attention, this one was just of a woman's chest (not exposed of course, and not posted online to be kind). Mom (or was it Dad) asked, "Whose breasts are those?" I didn't say.

Having a brilliant idea, Mom exclaimed, "That's what they should do! They should run both of these photos and have a contest to identify them."

I explained, "Well, I don't think they'll run the photo of the passed-out guy as you don't want to make fun of anyone as an individual. That would move it from being funny to being cruel. And I don't think the Editor of Nfocus will run the other photo and ask the public to identify these breasts... because they are hers."

"Oh." my mother said.

It's getting hot in here (Swan Ball 2008.5)

Random Blind Item

“I’m ready to leave here and go to Sperry’s and sit on my own air conditioning vent.”
“For this much money I should be sitting on my own personal ice block.”

sweating the Swan (Swan Ball 2008.4)

The Swan Ball Chairs, Auction Chairs, and Late Party Chairs do an impressive amount of work every year to produce the Swan Ball. Here’s what some of the lower level workers had to say about the event:

Dance Committee Volunteer (Paige Messina)
What’s the best thing about working on the Dance Committee?
“You get to be here! You get to see all the dresses; you get to see the decorations. It’s fun!”
What’s the worst part about working on the Dance Committee?
“[Standing in] heels on this marble floor. It’s a killer.”

Late Party Bartender (his second year)
What’s your favorite thing about working the Late Party?
“Meeting the different people that come here.”
What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen at the Late Party?
(lowers voice) “When the two ladies were kissing.”
(me: Right on!)

Security Guard
What’s the best thing about working the Swan Ball?
“I got to see Diana Ross walk right by earlier, but we’ve been told we can’t call out to her.”
What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen at the Swan Ball?
“Last year, when the woman fell down and they had to call an ambulance, and then the police came to investigate the noise and rear-ended the ambulance.”

Late Party Photographer
What’s the most challenging thing about being a Swan Ball photographer?
“Getting photographs before they have that one drink too many.”
How’s the shiny factor? It’s a bit humid tonight.
“It’s not as bad as previous years. Photoshop does wonders.”
(Another photographer joins in:)
“Shine is your friend when you’re younger. When you get older you dry up. Shine is okay.”

snappy answers to Swanny questions (Swan Ball 2008.3)

Reporters tend to pepper the fashionable ladies of the Swan Ball with the usual questions about their gown, their jewelry, or their work for the community. But what about the men? A sample of blind items asked of the men of the Swan Ball:

On a scale of “Diana Ross” to “My Wife Made Me,” how excited are you to be here tonight?
• “100% my wife made me. But I always have a good time.”
• “Diana Ross. I’m really looking forward to this.”
• “(whispers, and indicates adjacent wife) Ask me again later.”
• “Open bar.”

You’re Indiana Jones, and you’ve come to the Swan Ball—where do you look for the Crystal Skull?
• “In the artificial moon above the dance floor.” (This was a popular response)
• “Behind the bar.”
• “Over there. (whispers) That woman’s not really pregnant!”
• “Check with Jane Dudley.” (This was the most popular response)

Diana Ross usually does one crazy thing every time she leaves the house. What are you hoping for tonight?
• “I want the big Diana Ross hair. And judging by this humidity, I think we’re going to get it.”
• “She could open with a country song.”
Ooh. That would be cool. What song should she sing?
......“I have to be safe and say XXX’s and OOO’s. That one was written by my wife (Alice Randall).

Swan Ball or Bust (Swan Ball 2008.2)

also entitled: Supporting the Community

[Nfocus wanted some typical I'm Just Sayin' overheard comments for their Swan Ball coverage. I came up with some silly questions. Enjoy.]

There were a lot of shoulders at the Swan Ball this year. And while the socials were in fact rubbing shoulders, I am referring to the particular absence of straps. And some of these ladies were, shall we say, ample upstairs. I remarked on this observation and questioned the means of support to Betsy Wills. Betsy went all Zen on me and schooled me in the fundamentals of flower arranging. “In the art of flower arranging, the wires and oasis and supports—the bits that keep the design together and stable—are referred to as ‘the mechanics.’ One is not supposed to be able to see the mechanics.” Bringing me back to topic, she said, “When a woman’s bra strap or support is showing, she is said “to be showing her mechanics.”

I did not notice anyone’s mechanics at the Swan Ball, but I was sure they were there. And as I good reporter, or creepy guy on the subway, I smelled a story there. I asked around. (And offered anonymity to those who preferred. Only two ladies owned their answers.)

Looking around there’s a lot of shoulder at this year’s Swan Ball, and by that I mean strapless gowns. So… what’s holding up your bosoms?

• “My smile.” [Late Party Chairperson]
• “Oh Lordy, I’ve got all sorts of hooks and tape in here.”
• “This dress is so tight I can’t breathe.
• “Considering the structure of this dress, they’re not going anywhere.”
• “It’s a strapless bra. But it’s really uncomfortable and by this hour I’d rather be at home having a glass of wine on my porch and not worrying about all this.”
• “Safety pins and tape.”
• “A stick-on bra.”
• “Size.”
• “Fake boobs.”
• “Nothing.”
• “Plastic and skin.”
• “Four Braza’s. I doubled up. And silicone petals.” (Harkness Brown)

From a patron at the Big Ball: “I have about fifteen hooks and eyes making up my corset inside.”

From a first-timer at the Late Party: “Elasticity.” I hope she enjoys it while she can.

Now, if I could just understand what they all meant when they went on about their “spanx.”

Along with lots of shoulder came a lot of shimmer. I asked a follow up question regarding the application of body glitter. No one could give me a clever answer, but all agreed that there was a fine line between “just right” and “too much.” And that one should err on the side of “just a touch.”

Towards the end of the night, I asked Sinclair Kelly “How much body glitter is just right and how much is not enough?”

“I’m not wearing any body glitter.”

“But you kind of are.”

Sinclair checks herself: “Oh my God I am covered in body glitter! This is just from hugging people!”

And we now have our answer to “how much is too much?” Don’t bring enough to share.

Beaux of the Ball (Swan Ball 2008.1)

Instead of a Swan Ball write up typical to the blog, this year I'll post the bits I wrote for Nfocus. They didn't tell me I couldn't, and don't have a complete Web site of their own so I don't think this will be a problem.

It was a lot of fun going as press this year, but I never spent more than five or ten minutes in one place and so did not get to visit as much with those I would have liked. I'll just give a big shout out to old high school friends who have become wonderful new grown-up friends Brooks Smith and Lanson Hyde. And of course a special shout out for those friends who have been close to me all my life, and remain as wonderful as ever: Jessica (Gutow) and Dan Viner, Kate (Davis) and Eric Satz, Harkness (Harris) and Scott Brown, Julie Riven, and Billy and Jennifer Frist.

Nfocus invited me to write for the magazine this year. Ellen Nelson and Sinclair Kelly, Editor and Managing Editor of the Nashville social magazine, invited me to be a hat judge at the Steeplechase and thought I'd be a good choice to write about men's fashions at the Swan Ball. This is sort of a two-fold joke: First, I am not a fashion critic of Bravo reality television quality, but have spent time criticizing fashion based on my genetic gay fashion sense and everything I've learned from my armchair worship of Tim Gunn. While this does not merit me a spot as a guest judge on Project Runway, it does make me the most qualified man in many rooms in Nashville. Secondly, talking about men's fashions at the Swan Ball is like asking army soldiers' who they're wearing to all the wars this year—all the men are in the same uniform.

So, in the typical Hardcastle tone, here is my take on men's fashions at the Swan Ball.

Fashionistos
(aka Beaux of the Ball)

The media frenzy surrounding the Swan Ball usually focuses on women’s fashion: who’s wearing what, how well, and where she got it. And sometimes in hushed tones, how much she paid for it.

But what about the men? This year I launched myself into the Ball determined to find the finest of the men’s fashions. It was a running gag to be sure: “So, who are you wearing?” is not the typical question when all the men are in the same white-tie uniform. Covering the ladies of the Swan Ball may be a Herculean effort if only by sheer (and silky) volume, but covering the men may take a sharper eye: a bit like finding the hidden pictures in Highlights. Or rather, finding the diamonds in a case of cubic zirconia.

Let’s not kid ourselves though. Most of the gentlemen’s answers to the question “Who are you wearing?” were uniformly (pun intended) “Bittner’s.” Overall, the primary distinction among the men’s wear was own-versus-rent. I was surprised at the number of men who own black patent leather shoes. I image they can’t be that comfortable as it’s hard to break in a shoe by wearing it only a couple of times a year (assuming they are worn with black tie as well as white). Some men shook things up by wearing black velvet shoes. However, I think those might go better with a smoking jacket or a dressing gown. Leather with a shine should still be the rule for formal attire. Men proud of their footwear and wearing neither patent-leather nor standard black suit shoes cited Kenneth Cole as their cobbler of choice.

The ratio of renters-to-owners was considerably different at the Late Party and similar to San Franciscan real estate figures. A word of advice to the young socialites: buy now. It will be the best in-vestment you make this year. Bittner’s and other formal wear shops have sales from time to time featuring some of their backstock or older lines of formal wear. The basic white pique shirt, vest and tailcoat suit looks pretty identical to the next set, and you can pick up your own for anywhere between $70 and $200. Wear it twice and it’s cheaper than renting. When I started on the Dance Committee, I bought my original tailcoat and dinner jacket from one such sale. When I got too fat healthy for it, I replaced the dinner jacket with one I found from a similar outlet on eBay. Online retailers may have a better selection, but you have to know your measurements and be prepared for the hassle of returning items by mail. Most of the men at the Big Ball who owned their suits had owned them for more than a decade.

Searching the Swan for the tailored tailcoats, I found that many gentleman don’t like being left out of the high fashion that is this night’s fine feature. While there may have been more, I counted six or seven hand-tied white ties. Silk and polyester formal bow ties can be found at the better formal and department stories, but the pique ties are harder to come by (and much harder to tie). The gentlemen of the Swan Ball, including Cheekwood Director Jack Becker, know the difference.

Men’s couture designers such as Versace and Armani have their own lines of black-tie formal wear. But when it comes to white ties and tailcoats, the pickings are much more slim. At the late party, one gentleman was wearing a patterned white satin vest with matching tie his wife procured just for the occasion. This combo was refreshingly distinctive at the Late Party, but the sheen and the line should be traded for the traditional matte pique by the time he rotates off the Late Party. Up at the Big Ball, more gentlemen set themselves apart. Among many of those owning their outfits, when asked who designed it the men could only produce a barcode in the way of a label. Owned items were usually procured from a rental shop or sale. Men who could give me a name (and they were few) cited Nashville clothier J. Michaels.

Unquestionably, David Ewing (escorting his equally fashionable godmother Leatrice McKissack) gets the prize for best vest. David sported a dapper white pique waistcoat with a unique, colonial cut from San Franciscan designer Wilkes Bashford. Naturally, he had a hand-tied white tie to match.

When considering fashion at the Swan Ball, who better to consult that the House of Fiandaca? I asked Alfred for his thoughts when it came to fashion designers and men’s white-tie wear. Alfred has had his tailcoat for more years than I am comfortable repeating (in case someone wants to do the math and back end to his age). Let’s just say that his tailcoat is flawless, and it is the same one he wore as an escort to debutante balls in his teens and early twenties. He did admit that over his lifetime he has let it out. Once. Even that surprised me, considering Alfred is as fit as his models.

The longest tailcoat story came from the husband of a former Swan Ball Chair and told on the strict condition of anonymity. He bought his original suit in 1976. When his wife became Chair of the Swan Ball, he witness the parade of designer gowns his wife considered and thought he would rather not look “like a schmuck” next to her and decided to get a new set. He went to the shop where he bought his first set, Tripler’s in New York, only to find it had gone out of business. He tried Paul Stewart, Brook Brothers, and others only to be told time and again “We don’t do tails.” He was finally advised to seek out the Italian tailor at Bergdorf’s who could custom make a tailcoat. After taking the measurements agreeing on designs, the tailor moved on to choice of fabric. The price for the suit was around six thousand dollars for a basic summer-weight wool. The tailor attempted to up-sell the gentleman to a lightweight wool with a 3% cashmere blend. Mildly impressed, the tailor then offered an even better fabric “if you really want to do it.” This fabric featured cashmere only from the belly. None of that common “back cashmere.” (Heaven forfend.) The price differential: five thousand dollars more. “I asked the man—he was a life-long tailor well over 65—can you, as a professional tailor, tell the difference?” His answer: “No, but some people in New York want to know they are wearing only belly cashmere.”

The gentleman declined the up-sell, and remained looking elegant and classic in his custom made, lightweight wool tailcoat. The custom tailoring, the quality of the fabric, and the subtly distinctive line of the suit were all visually apparent, and in my opinion worth the investment. I felt a bit less fashionable in is presence though. Having opted to rent my tails instead of packing them into a suitcase, I’m pretty sure I was wearing only “backside polyester.”

The arena in which a gentleman can brightly express his fashion identity at the Swan Ball is jewelry. Not the wife’s stones (although I did have to tell one woman that I loved her work in Titanic), but the gentleman’s studs and cuff links. White-tie typically demands silver-hued jewelry. In the cases that a gentleman sported gold accessories, these were usually monogrammed. Of those interviewed, all men wearing gold monogrammed studs and cuff links reported that the items were gifts from mother or wife. If a man wore jewelry that was neither from the rental shop nor a golden gift, it tended to be an act of personal expression.

The basic silver knot is the most common step up from costume, and successfully sets the gentleman apart. It also steps up his fashion game to Swan Ball levels. From there, particularly at the Big Ball, personal jewelry was a mix of sterling, platinum, and mother-of-pearl. John Hardcastle wore his grandfather’s matching sets of platinum and mother-of-pearl, on which I am now formally calling “dibs.” Other gentleman told similar stories of past paternal patrons passing down their shining silver accessories.

I believe that Ridley Wills’ assortment of formal accessories rival that of many a Belle Meade matriarch. At this year’s Swan, Ridley looked resplendent in a set of Camilla Bergeron studs and links composed of invisible-set rubies, a gift from his witty wife Betsy. (Unfortunately, he does not loan these out to friends. I asked.) This bit of sparkle defines the exception to the rule that a white tie should be accompanied by silver accessories.

At first glance, it may seem that every gentleman at the Swan Ball is wearing the same outfit (and yet no one gets embarrassed). The reality is that there are options for men of distinction to distinguish themselves fashionably. From the Symphony to the Swan, these gentlemen have balls. •

Leavin' on a jet plane

and I'll be back again in July.

It's a travel day so no blogging. I leave for BNA to OAK in about an hour and a half and have to pack up. Travel surprise: my neice Ellen will be flying back with me. She is off to Saratoga to visit Morgan (aka Morris by the Uncles) her former next door neighbor and best friend who moved away last year. She is flying with Morgan's grandmother who had already planned a trip, and being on the same flight just happened to be a happy accident.

Swan Ball stories simmering. But I won't have time to get to them until Wednesday. Photo sets will be uploaded tomorrow.

Wilson, Barry, Ginger and Chuck at the pre-party

In the meantime, perhaps this will hold you over:



There is such a thing as enough rope.

Swan Balls

Some stories to come. Nothing really dramatic, tragic, or comedic happened last night—just a hell of a lot of fun.

This image sort of sums it up. Brace yourself for the photos.

Chuck is very good at holding his liquor.
And pretending to hold someone else's.