Shawn: Lady In A Cage! Lady In A Cage! Somebody please call the cops STAT! because somewhere in this gilded cage a distinguished lady of a certain age is in mortal peril! I’m often astounded by the visual dissonance between decor and occupant here on Lurid Digs, but this one just has home invasion written all over it. There’s no way this sexy longhorn — looking like a drifter, hustler, or recently-paroled ex-con str8 outta Old Reliable — is resident at this address. Somewhere out of frame, a wealthy dowager is being menaced in her elevator by his gang of hot-ass hoodlums. “Not the golden cherub!,” she screams as they play keep-away. This only leads to a half-drunken glamor nudie photo shoot — on the auriferous divan! Soon enough, the gold leafing on the fireplace is stripped, the side table’s lying in shambles, and the wall is nothing but a series of ghostly framed outlines.
When will we go back to the gods of our childhood?
David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
Shawn Baker is the Executive-Editor of Nightcharm and hails from New York. He is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Eric B. does not Facebook, Tweet or blog. He uses the internet to cruise for sex, like god intended. He has leopard print in every room of his house, save one. And he does not apologize.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Sean Horlor is happy to no longer be using his judgmental prowess for the forces of darkness. He co-hosts a comedy lifestyle reality TV series called Don't Quit Your Gay Job and runs Up Your Alley.
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I don’t think the Dowager Countess would approve. The hat for one thing, isn’t covered in feathers.
I must admit the laser hair treatment is worth every cent.
Maybe he is a kept longhorn….The manscaping looks right at home here in this gilt wonderland
I think what we have here is a case of… “let’s do something dirty in a public place”. Judging from the gold gilding and antiques, the place being a historic Antebellum home in perhaps Natchez Mississippi. Our randy cowboy was left behind on the historic tour of homes and thought this the ideal place of a naughty photo shoot.
who knew barbara cartland liked rough trade?
maybe they’ll play ‘lady in the dark’ next and smash all the lightbulbs.
Tacky gold overload, I’m guessing wannabe nouveau riche who gilded everything in sight to appear grander than they really are. No doubt an unintentional touch, but I do like that the gold trim on the hat sort of matches his surroundings.
OK LD, you’ve redeemed yourself. This was worth the wait. And I’m convulsing inside over the invocation of Barbara Cartland, but will remain silent about that in view of the recent accusations that I am a shill/Superpac for whats-his-name’s political ambitions.
What I will say, is if you were born & raised in Texas, as I was, this photo would barely raise a (highly manicured) eyebrow. Here’s the scenario:
Dallas queen owns showroom at the WTC. No, not even that classy, it’s actually in The Market (The former was used as a set in Logan’s Run, the latter looks like a turn of the century Women’s Prison, but they are adjacent & connected, kind of like Dallas and Ft. Worth.)
Anyway, this queen has represented Brunschwig & Fils, and a few other old standard lines that actually manage to pay their commissions semi-ocassionally, when the owner has done a stint in rehab and isn’t actually spending everything on (male) hookers and blow. She has a taste for roughnecks, the money, drugs, booze to lure them in, and a library of straight porn. But most important: full dentures that can be conveniently removed.
This is just a trophy photo of happy times. Why make fun? Can’t we all just get along???
If this is kept trade, I’ll bet the entire bank, that the keeper is a portly older homosexshual gentleman complete with lisp and pastel caftan (or perhaps shoe-horned into a girdle and 1980′s Gianni Versace silk shirt and gold chains). Before everyone started commenting on the tackiness of the gold and the Barbara Cartland of it all, my first guess was going to be that the proof of this photo meant that poor Joan Rivers was going to have to fire another intern for inappropriate work behavior. Now, I’m afraid to mention J.R. lest my g-card be revoked. Is it just me or is that unbelieveably pale cream/whitish color on the walls just about the last paint color that could possibly go complement this decor. Neither French, English or for that matter Barbara Carland-ish enough.
OH! I got it! This is one of those “Optical Illusion” pieces of art where you’ve got to find, count, categorize and discover what all these gold-gilded objects have in common. Hah! I know there’s nothing there. It’s just a handsome cowboy standing in front of a white scree. Good luck to you guys who still insist those things exist.
I take it all back, this interior is completely Mary Antoinette. Let them eat cock!
you know, this just might work if the wall colour was a slightly warmer cream colour, and the -er- objets d’art were removed from the frames, and the frames replaced on the wall – just the gilt frames. Bichrome gilt / cream only.
(and get the kept boy into a cream stetson with gold-ish ribbon)
I really like masculine shaved guys but not in this setting. It’s like showing up in a Tux at a Monster Truck Rally. As some stated he looks as if he’s at the Dowager Countess’s penthouse that she has held on to since 1944 or some old queen that retired after 39 years as Mr. Quinn at LaRue’s House of Beauty hair salon. This man needs to get back to the ranch or a least a leather bar.
Upon first viewing this photo, the second thought that entered my mind was, What does that room smell like? I would suspect there might be a thick veil of rose oil lasciviously lapping at every available surface, and the mere thought that might be true is giving me a headache.
This photo is all about body language. Crocodile Dundee here is being directed by his talent scout to pose but “Don’t touch ANYTHING!”
This is just an outtake from a porn shoot. I’m queuing up in line to see, “Brokeback Boys at the Liberace Mansion”
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil indeed!
as with men, i have too-little patience with rooms who don’t deliver, rooms who flirt, caress, promise, begin to commit and then suddenly get coy and pull back.
no one likes a tchotch-tease.
i know, some rooms are young and inexperienced, scared to admit that their nighttime dreams are who they really are, afraid to face the world with bibelots flying, proclaiming to the world the truth about themselves.
You are a room that loves foof. the foofier the better. you’re a gilt queen, a nascent over-the-top, and everyone knows it. embrace it and let the niche-market naughty fun begin.
i understand that. but i can only wait so long. be brave. we all know what you are and what you need.
just do it already. paint your walls. buttercream yellow would be okay, pistacchio green would be better, robin’s egg blue better still, and baby-ass pink best of all.
stop scattering your cachepots, your miniatures, your bobeche, your pretties. group them en masse on your focal wall (that’s the one with the fireplace, dear) and around the sette’ grouping across from it.
dare to go bare on the other two. not everyone will agree with your choice, but you weren’t ever going to get enfilade with them anyway.
run that I Love Curlicues flag up your freakpole and see who um salutes. there’s someone out there who would love to play shepherdess with you.
or sheep, anyway.
“no one likes a tchotch-tease.”
Yes, I’ve lapsed. Hell there are 12 steps and I intend to take my time going thru them. So, once again, posting a fan-mail even though I know I’ve got to stop, for my own good, and the good of my LD loved ones.
But seriously, honestly, this has got to be one of the most amazing verbal constructions I have ever encountered. In the same league as Lewis Carroll IMO.
HOLEY CAPITAMONTE!
THE REVENGE OF HOPALONG WOLFGANG!
Seriously, this is a hidden corner of a Hapsburg palace. You can just hear the Strauss waltzes playing in the background, followed by a lusty “YEEEE-HA!”
It’s the classic guy-out-of-place photo, the pseudobutch manliness juxtaposed to ultra-swishy decor. (I mean, seriously, guy’s not bad, but the manscaping went too far…)
File this one under Lurid Digs’ raison d’etre. Classic disconnect!
I’m going to go against the consensus here. I think the gentleman in the photos is indeed the owner/decorator of the room. It just has pretentious southern queen with a cowboy fetish written all over it. His look is as carefully managed as the decor. Get it?
I feel I have stumbled upon a corner of that ellusive clean “antique mart”. The products where purchased at an estate sale and grouped by color and theme. “You want something in gold gilt? head to the northeast corner.” The various pieces could work, if used sporadically and sparingly throughout a home, but lumped together they just bring a sense of a compulsive collector.
Obviously, the “salesman” has opted to help maintain the cleanliness of the shop by ridding himself of anything that could shed, such as body hair, clothes and the ilk. Thus the hat to maintain what little hair he has left on his body, much like a snood in a restaurant kitchen.
Is there a 12-step group for gilt without guilt?
just a heads-up, guys– nightcharm appears to have rebooted itself.
Ericthewriter: Can you please contact me. I’ve tried for the last week to reach you to no avail. Are any of our emails reaching you? Please check your spam or junk folders — I can’t figure out what’s happening.
DK
david: sent you a note at the nightcharm site. nothing has come through through t ome, either from main email or spam folder.
it is a puzzlement.
I was struck by the amount of curvature in the room (on the candelabra, the mirror frame, the statuette, the chair’s arms, the hat rim) all complementing and complimenting the gentleman’s appendage.
yeah ! Rococo galore : curves on the wall and an even finer curve in his prick ( should be gilted, too … )
Like a bird in a gilded cage. With a cowboy hat.
His old deaf aunt is rotting in the trunk in the cellar.
I hope he feels ahem….gilty.