8:03pm
Dear Diary…
My Friend Misty is throwing one of its signature parties at the Museum of Sex tonight—a dark, romantic soirée layered with intrigue and sensory pleasures. Very much my scene. If past Misty parties are any indication, we’re in for a tantalizing treat.
Tonight’s affair takes place inside an erotic carnival. Misty tells me to dress the part. I’m wearing a pair of dark green Victorian bloomers. (I love saying ‘bloomers.’) White cufflinks, a black ruffled corset, and a pair of lacy black stockings, I think I pull it off. Leaning into the carnival theme, I paint my lips like a ventriloquist puppet, with cheekbone hearts and a pink button nose. It’s Moulin Rouge-meets-Barnum & Bailey. Just need to find my riding crop, and I’m off for the night…
10:07pm
We have arrived. I check in with Alan T, a legend of Miami nightlife, and search for Tam Gryn, the museum’s curator. I find her smiling atop the staircase, in a pleated blue skirt with metal studs. Before we hit the dancefloor, Tam walks us through the exhibitions. First is "Modern Sex: 100 Years of Design and Decency," a journey of sexual health mirrored by American media. We marvel at douches from the 1920s. There’s a paper from Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood. “Whatever is happening in the world reflects in art, and reflects in sex culture,” Tam tells me. We look at post-World War II advertisements warning soldiers of syphilis. Men are noticeably absent from the ads, placing the safe-sex onus on women rather than the soldiers’ own promiscuity. Classic. I giggle at the “Anal Intruder Set,” sit with reverence on the topic of AIDS, and giggle again when I spot the original Sybian.
We move on to the next exhibition, "Hajime Sorayama: Desire Machines." I’ve seen images of Sorayama’s ‘sexy robots’ before, but nothing like this. Gold and silver cyborgs, entangled and engorged, legs spread across the canvas. Provocative is an understatement. Tam points out the octopus, a classic example of Japanese ‘tentacle erotica.’ The gallery is rattling with heavy bass coming from the party below. Anticipation is growing. Finally, we reach the famous robots, voluptuous steel sculptures encased in glass. They look so human, and yet, not at all. Fascinating…
10:48pm
It’s time to party. We hug Tam goodbye and walk through a tunnel of kaleidoscopic art—like entering a portal to another world. Suddenly, we’re inside a mossy medieval castle. It smells like Big Red cinnamon gum. A few more steps and we enter the carnival.
It’s hot and steamy in here, just how Misty likes it. I hope I’ll catch her tonight. Misty is always elusive, never in plain sight but always present. I figure she’s on the dancefloor. Her two best friends are about to play: David Sinopoli, the founder of Miami’s iii Points festival; and Elad Zvi, founder of Bar Lab Hospitality, otherwise known by his DJ moniker, Maccabi.
We walk past the bounce house of inflatable boobs and shimmy our way into the crowd. Sinopoli and Maccabi start off hot. I mean red hot. I mean “Red Right Hand” by Nick Cave hot. I LOVE THIS SONG!! I love this groovy remix. It’s precisely the heady, genre-bending music I’ve come to expect from My Friend Misty.
A trio of sexy vixens are dancing above. They look like pin-up girls from the 1950s, dripping in sequins, wearing pointy padded bras. I recognize Elena Lee, the beautiful dancer from Club Space. There’s still no sign of Misty, but I think I see Mokibaby, her partner in crime. Maybe I’ll ask her—but I’m in no rush. Sinopoli and Maccabi just dropped “Bang Bang” by Nancy Sinatra, and so, I must dance.
11:39pm
More of my friends have arrived—Caro, Juan Carlos, Eli, Jonbo. It’s like a clown car, they just keep coming! We meet at the conversation pit, between the giant testicles and the skee ball game, when I see a neon “Misty” sign out of the corner of my eye. Aha! I walk over and find Mokibaby, a.k.a. Veronica Gessa, the mastermind artist behind the My Friend Misty parties. She’s hanging with Ventigoth, a local photographer whom I adore. I try not to fangirl. I fail. They’re fun, hot and talented—my favorite combination.
They tell me Misty just left, and so I take advantage to chat with Mokibaby. Dressed like a sultry secretary, she tells me about the essence of Misty: her love for cinema and strong female characters, her passion for pleasure and self-pampering. At each of her events, Misty is revealed through interactive vignettes. I think about the time I wandered into Misty’s bedroom at Floyd, where Audrey Hepburn movies played on analog televisions. Tonight, it’s custom-made playing cards inspired by divination, a nod to carnival fortune-tellers. I play my cards right and score a bottle of Misty’s essential oil, handmade by Mokibaby herself.
Speaking of the carnival—where on earth is Misty? Has she run away with the circus?! “Misty is a vaudeville dancer tonight,” Mokibaby says. “She’s probably on stage with Elena performing a burlesque act.” Finally, a lead, I think to myself. Ventigoth snaps a photo. I’m off to search for my friend Misty—but not before some naughty adventure.
2:41am
THIS IS SO MUCH FUN. My riding crop is a huge hit (and a great way to shepherd the crowds.) I’m loving all the carnival games, especially “Glory Stall”. Diary, I dare not tell you how to play, just know you need to tug three times…
The music is swirling like the girls riding the mechanical bull. I hear “Smalltown Boy” and Faithless, a low-vocal edit of Madonna’s “Jump”, gothic rock and heavy techno all rolled into one. There’s a lady in an alligator mask. Alan T is feeding people slices of cake. Elena and the dancers are binding each other Shibari-style, in full-body leotards that somehow look sexier than anything else they’ve worn tonight.
There’s a rumor of an after-party at Jolene in downtown. I’m intrigued, but my feeble friends are weary. (To be fair, we’ve been here for five hours.) Actually, come to think of it, I’m hungry. Maybe we bounce.
3:32am
Dear Diary…
I’m writing in pajamas. Pizza rolls are in the oven. Night at the Roxbury is on TV. I feel like a teenage cliché, but truthfully, I’m content. I never did find Misty. Maybe she ran away with the circus after all. At least I got a glimpse into Misty’s magical world, even if just for a night. Until next time…
XOXO,
Caitlin
