I’m imagining I’m at a cocktail party. There’s a piano in the corner, people are dressed to the nines (heels, headpieces), some light music in the background, drowned out by the sound of chit-chat and laughter. Wayne Koestenbaum is leaning against the piano, swizzling an olive around a dry martini glass and telling anecdotes – a little sordid, but always told with enough wit and charm to please even a more straight, conservative listener.
Drinking martinis with Wayne Koestenbaum
Drinking martinis with Wayne Koestenbaum
Drinking martinis with Wayne Koestenbaum
I’m imagining I’m at a cocktail party. There’s a piano in the corner, people are dressed to the nines (heels, headpieces), some light music in the background, drowned out by the sound of chit-chat and laughter. Wayne Koestenbaum is leaning against the piano, swizzling an olive around a dry martini glass and telling anecdotes – a little sordid, but always told with enough wit and charm to please even a more straight, conservative listener.