I find it interesting that Damon and I share the iconic influence of Prince’s Purple Rain and agree on our favorite store in New York City, the seasonless and over the top New World Order, yet our style could not be more divergent. He refers to himself as Liberace meets Blanche from The Golden Girls meets Biggie meets Prince and I see myself as an Edwardian man meets rogue nun meets Patti Smith meets Prince. For Damon, every piece that he wears has to be so memorable that they are too noticeable to wear over and over and by comparison, I have a subdued though no less obsessive uniform where one thing morphs into the next look over and over. Damon tops even himself at his birthday parties, once wearing a handmade mirrored suit and shoes with a silver cane in a mirrored club, while the day of my birthday as compared to any other day means little and I definately don’t spend any time on wearing something different. I would have shared, however, his thinking that he had arrived when Apollonia left him a voicemail and had I not been a klutz, I too would have joined Alvin Ailey over Martha Graham and The Geoffrey for their earthy break dancing meets soul and jazz choreography, like Damon did for three years.
Damon left the dance world after he saw that one of the stars of the American Ballet had gotten the crowd to give a teary-eyed standing ovation, but when leaving the theater that night, no one in the crowd stepped aside in order for her to go home. There wasn’t enough glory in the profession for him. Instead, New York City nightlife – where he can wear a shiny suit, massive fur, something so studded that it passes for armor, or anything bright, flashy, sparkly and pimpy – is a comfortable stage for him. Things haven’t changed from when he was a kid, gravitating to the African American mothers who wore brighter colored clothing than his own mom. Today, Damon’s friends say that he wears a suit like he is jogging in it and his load of Noir rhinestones, among a bold array of other decorative gold and jewels are as much a reflection of him as is his weekly party, where the mixed crowd recalls the days of Danceteria. “It would be as if Keith Haring, Andy Warhol, a Wall Street guy, a busboy, Madonna before she was famous, and a nerd were at one party and everything worked in an amazing way. It is truly luxurious.”