Call it puppy love, infatuation, envy, or hero worship. One day on my way to a design consult with my client Don I realized I must be in love with the guy. Of course, he didn’t know it and the only time we got physically close was several years later when I kissed him goodbye before he moved to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. So much for unrequited love.
One of the clinchers that turned me on about him (and there were many) was that he was a refugee from the Cordon Bleu and a disciple of Saint Julia Child. The fact was I had been summoned to consult on the decor of the newly modernized 1901 vintage kitchen. Besides the professional style appliances the focal point, as the designers say, was a framed poster of the famed Ms. Child. No NFL stars portraits or macho icons. This was my kind of guy.
We picked up on the Cordon Bleu theme and ultimately covered the kitchen walls in blue denim vinyl. Of course it was washable. I’m nothing but practical with my clients.
From the kitchen we moved on to complete the master bedroom. Never got any further there beyond the very butch wallpaper and paint colors. The final challenge was to create a library in what had been the front parlor.
By this time a beautiful Platonic friendship had developed, but no more cooking on the romantic side.
Many years have passed and we still exchange Christmas cards. Many changes have resolved various conflicts of my approach to sexual orientation, and my love for Don mellowed to occasional fantasy about what should have been and never was.
The one bonding element for me is our mutual appreciation for cooking especially when done in the nude.
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