I’m a Willie appreciator, for sure, but I wouldn’t count myself among the die-hards. My introduction to the original outlaw includes admiring his image on black velvet hanging in a hometown pizza joint, as well as adding “Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other” to my open mic repertoire. I find his Old Whiskey River brand of Kentucky bourbon mighty fine as well. The night of the big show, I picked through the contents of my closet, puzzling over what one actually wears to go see the Red Headed Stranger (although by now he’s no longer red-headed and arguably a stranger to no one).

When we got to the Purple Cow, the answer was plain: wear whatever you dern well please. We saw ladies in evening gowns, gentlemen in tie-dye and flip flops, cougars in club wear and more than several leaves of the Devil’s Lettuce embroidered or screen-printed onto shirts.

The brains behind "Beer for My Horses."

We grabbed a round of Buds and did the “‘scuse me, pardon me” conga to our seats. Scotty Emerick got us all to chuckling with his hit songs “I Love This Bar” and “Love Me Like My Dog,” although most folks know those tunes best as sung by Toby Keith and Billy Currington. Emerick’s been a hit-maker for Willie, too, and I really loved to see the man behind the songs get a good 30 minutes in the spotlight.

Well, we grabbed another round and scrambled back over the trouser gauntlet under many baleful stares as the lights went down in the hall. And with a roar from the packed house, Willie strode out with a five-piece posse and launched right into “Whiskey River.” Dressed all in black from head to foot, he showed no mercy to his jangly, blonde acoustic guitar, nor to his back-up band. More than once they appeared to struggle to keep up as Willie blazed through song after song, hardly stopping for a breath or a “thank’ya.” Pretty soon he winged his black cowboy hat into the crowd, followed by his red bandanna. I’ll never know how a second bandanna found its way onto his head and then into the overjoyed front rows.

At a quarter or so to 10, we thought he was wrapping it up with “On the Road Again,” but we weren’t even close. “Always on My Mind” nearly put a tear in my beer, but I got to grinning once more with “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.” Close to 10:30, Willie must have pitied our frail, citified constitutions and closed out with a  gospel medley. By then, I had lost count of all the standing ovations he’d received.

A little breathless, my armrest-mate and I wheeled out onto Tamiami Trail and headed for home. Suddenly a shadow loomed over our vehicle, and the most enormous tour bus I’ve ever seen, emblazoned with a war chief astride his mustang, pulled up alongside us. For approximately two minutes before the bus hung a left onto Fruitville, I may have gotten closer to Willie than I ever thought possible.

The scene is set for Forks & Corks University.

I want a T-shirt that reads “I Survived Forks & Corks 2012 (and Loved It).” The weekend was a whirlwind of extraordinary wine, scrumptious local food and impeccable weather under which to enjoy it all. It seemed like the whole town was out celebrating Forks & Corks with me, and I’ll bet everyone who experienced a tasting or dinner came away with fantastic stories and new friends. Here are mine.

My weekend began bright and early at Michael’s On East for the “Vino Italia!” educational tasting, moderated by Master Sommelier Andrew McNamara. He and I share a weakness for champagne, which he calls a “terrible habit.” Now, I sincerely enjoy a drink any time of day, but at 9:30 in the morning I may have blanched a little to take my seat before 10 glasses poured none too lightly. Surely a tasting is the only public forum in which it isn’t vulgar to spit — and the five panelists representing the Italian wineries demonstrated graceful technique. We Sarasotans, however, are unabashed swallowers. No way in heck was I going to let a glass of 15-year-old red end up as a splash in a bucket. “You are my breakfast champions,” Vito Candela of  Rocca delle Macìe beamed from the head table. The tasting ended with smooth selections from Colle Massari, whose bottles can run $90 and up. “It’s not a cheap wine,” Commercial Director Maarten Leereveld remarked, “but then again, how long do you live?”

With that pithy little mantra in mind, we broke for lunch. I found myself seated in excellent company–Mr. Leereveld to my left and California winemaker Daniel Gehrs on my right. And in front of me: more wine. An oak-free Chardonnay from the Gehrs winery, in fact, followed by his Pinot noir, which Mr. Gehrs describes as “very sexy.” I’m personally not a Pinot Noir fan, but his hooked me. I left the table with promises to come visit him and the rest of his collection the next day at the Grand Tasting.

My dear friend Zaq Bencomo preps deliciousness under the Derek's tent.

If I’d been amazed by the scene at the Ringling Museum for the Skyspace Opening, this sumptuous party knocked my ankle boots off. As I walked into the courtyard, I believed I’d died and gone to culinary heaven. I was completely overwhelmed by the smell of dozens of local restaurants dishing out tempting treats, and dazzled by the ruby glitter from hundreds of glasses. I decided I needed a little bubbly to bring me to my senses. After a 92-point mouthful of Nicolas Feuillate and a spoon of scallop salad from Derek’s Culinary Casual, I popped over to see my new friend Mr. Gehrs and tried his buttery Chenin Blanc and rich, juicy Zinfandel.

Things of beauty, from left to right: Jennifer Edelson, Kristen Pace and Kirsten Sponseller.

A couple of my girlfriends and I eventually got roped into a pouring stint by Oregon wineries A to Z Wineworks and Rex Hill Vineyards. The fellows behind the table let us take over without a trace of anxiety. It was an “amusing experiment,” one of them told me later, to trade himself in for three sunkissed damsels in cocktail dresses. We didn’t know much about the wine we were pouring, save that we really liked drinking it, but suddenly it seemed like everybody wanted a sip, too!

As the afternoon wore on, the pours grew more generous. The last booth I stopped at simply handed over the bottle, to my violet-lipped delight. It had been a gorgeous day, and the 4 o’clock sun suffused the courtyard in a rich glow. The faces around me glowed brightly, too, but it wasn’t a trick of the sunlight — I could tell it was coming from inside.

Photo by Johnna Brynn

Living like a rock star as I am wont to do takes a physical toll on my external beauty. On Sunday morning, I stared at the mirror and the weekend’s raccoon-eyed aftermath. Of course, I’d like to party like Keith Richards, but do I want to look like him? No, thanks. It was time to gather the girlfriends for a spa date.

After a leisurely brunch at the Half Shell Oyster House, featuring our server Marcus the Fabulous and untold mimosas, my pampering party of three was ready to get its facial on. Full disclosure: I’d never had a facial before. My skin is cantankerous at best, so I worried it would run away screaming if anyone tried to give it a professional working over.

With that in mind, I’d picked my first spa experience to be a group facial party at the Starflower Organic Spathecary, hosted by walking, glowing advertisement Cherylyn Van Kirk. She’ll happily make you guess how old she is — but I’ll let her reveal that to you herself. My gals and I agreed we hoped to look half as good, um, right now.

Other guests trickled in while Cherylyn whipped up a batch of greenish whole food smoothies. Her recipe of the day included homemade hemp milk, bananas, raw cacao and Starflower’s signature herbal smoothie blend — not too appetizing to look at, but when I sipped mine down I could seriously taste health. I think all 10 of us helped ourselves to seconds.

Smoothies in hand, we seated ourselves around a table before cobalt-blue bowls of water. “Ladies,” Cherylyn announced, “we are beginning a ritual for goddesses.” I was surrounded by a pantheon of female beauty: a blushing high-schooler gazed uncertainly into her bowl over to my left, while three sun-bronzed dames dabbed water onto their maturing visages, completely devoid of self-consciousness. I realized I needed to get with their program as Cherylyn passed around a millet-based exfoliant. Before long everyone was scrubbing away while Cherylyn’s son Alex cheerfully snapped pictures. Oh, well. The makeup was off and there was no turning back.

If we looked funny with cereal caked onto our faces, you should have seen our towel-covered heads bent over bowls of steaming herbs for minutes on end. People walking by the storefront must have thought they’d spotted a cult of some kind. After luxuriating in the steam bath we slathered on a dark green masque and giggled at one another until the drying paste made it tough to move a muscle. Once we’d rinsed, Cherylyn passed around bottle after bottle of tonic sprays and oils perfumed with jasmine, neroli and precious rose otto.

After all the scrubbing, the steaming, the masquing, toning and moisturizing, each face in the room looked luminous. We couldn’t stop touching our soft, supple visages — and you can be sure that no one walked away empty-handed. I myself snagged an aloe-based tonic spray and French lavender body milk. I’d learned a lot, too: that raw chocolate actually scrubs your veins; that per ounce the highest quality rose oil is worth more than gold; and that my regular Walgreens run brings home products containing chemicals linked to cancer and birth defects. Pretty sobering for a spa day. Still, I’m pleased that my trip to Starflower enhanced both my beauty and my brains.

THIS WEEKEND

Now that I’m looking and feeling like a rock star again, perhaps I’ll take my bad self down to Kinky Kitty for their photo studio grand opening. Starting Friday and ending March 31, this little North Trail adult boutique is offering a deep discount on a sexy photo sesh of your own design — be it glam, pin-up, boudoir or even fetish. Meow.

  Sishirprithvi Bommakanti (boy, I hope I got that right) opens his solo exhibit Friends + Monsters at the 529 Clothesline Gallery this Friday, with a scrumptious reception provided by Sarasota Vineyard. A product of the Ringling College of Art and Design, “Sishir” plays a little game of cognitive scramble with his audience, employing recognizable images within abstracted configurations to make us all go, “Hunh?” Followed by, “Hmm.” This is one of more solo exhibitions by Ringling students that we can look forward to from Clothesline. This opening starts at 5 p.m., but if you can’t make it then stay tuned for the closing reception! (Fri. Jan. 20, 5 p.m., 529 Clothesline Gallery, 529 S. Pineapple Ave., Sarasota, 724-6667, clotheslinetess.com)

Supové will probably be wearing something similar to this.

Finally, New Music New College is bringing dynamite concert pianist Kathleen Supové back to their experimental concert season for a third time this weekend. I was lucky enough to see her both times, and if you think  piano recitals entail some stuffy affair, please allow this woman to change your point of view. She’ll first appear in a free demo and discussion with composer Randall Woolf on Friday afternoon. Woolf’s work will be featured on Saturday’s concert, along with selections from Supové’s new “Digital Debussy Project” in which composers of today respond to famous compositions by afore-mentioned dead French guy. Everything you’ll hear on the concert represents the glint off the cutting edge in contemporary music, but I heard that the very newest of the new may appear on the program: this month a select group of New College students have been slaving away on compositions just for the Digital Diva. Cross your fingers for their debut. (Sat. Jan. 21, 8 p.m., Mildred Sainer Pavillion, 5313 Bay Shore Road, Sarasota, newmusicnewcollege.org)

- Tell the Scenestress what’s up via email, Facebook and/or Twitter.

Caught mid-skankstep.

My voice had dropped an interval or two after leaving Jake’s Tavern — and Ballyhoo!! — on Sunday, what with all my “woohoo”-ing, the screaming at bartenders and the smoke. But what a show! The crowd made me want to redefine the term “weekend warrior” as something like:
1) One who wrings dry every second of the days of so-called “rest,” including the very hours before the workweek recommences.
2) Best consultant for hangover cure.

We got to Jake’s after 10 p.m., sadly missing local funksters S.N.A.P.M. It was easy to see they’d done their job as an opening act. Empty cups were scattered over every horizontal surface in the place. I would’ve been forced to throw elbows to get at the bar in the back, but fortunately a buxom creature in bondage boots cozied up to us with a tray of jello shots. “They’re only a dollar,” she purred. “The raspberry’s definitely the best.” Jeez, don’t twist my arm or anything.

Supporting act Undertow played breathtakingly loud. Call me wimpy if you want, but I could feel my teeth rattling in my skull. Their feel-good brand of reggae-rock was giving me a headache, and I was compelled to break a longstanding social rule of mine. Not the tried-and-true toilet paper earplugs, but what came right before: “Be right back. Bathroom,” I texted my friend. “KK,” he replied from his position right next to me. I could definitely see how this form of communication becomes essential in the club scene. And, I’ll admit, it’s fun in a sneaky little way, like passing notes in fourth grade. You don’t get in trouble if you’re caught — people like me just judge you, that’s all.

Undertow broke the Led out with a cruising cover of “Ramble On” while we searched for a nook to settle in. It was nearly impossible to find a surface on which to stand, sit or even lean that wasn’t wet with some cocktail mishap. More than once, the musical sounds of shattering glass punctuated the groove, but this didn’t keep a fellow in a rainbow pullover from wandering around barefoot. Trust in the strength of hippie calluses, I suppose. The bar continued to fill up and the excitement for the headliners mounted. Even as midnight neared, no one was entertaining the thought of going home.

At last, the stage was set and Ballyhoo! pounced. They came on with a hard, ska-driven edge, which set tiny blondies and dreadlocked dudes alike to pogoing and skanking nonstop. I mean it — the dancing never stopped as long as Ballyhoo! played. They took a break for whiskey shots early on into the set and then gunned it until it was nearly one in the morning. On the final number we all waved our hands in the air — yes, much as if we just didn’t care.

Throughout the entire set the frontmen seemed congratulatory when they addressed us. “Sarasota!” they’d cry. “You guys are great!”

Yes, we truly were. I don’t think Ballyhoo! expected their Sunday evening to hold so much exhilaration and uninhibited revelry. Impressive, Sarasota.

THIS WEEKEND

New Music New College (NMNC) has a concert hall dynamo in store for you. Kathleen Supové doesn’t tickle the ivories; she utterly dominates them with equal parts virtuosity and charisma. This Saturday (1/21) will mark her third appearance on an NMNC season, and on Friday afternoon (1/20) she and featured composer Randall Woolf will take some time to host a demo/discussion that’s free and open to the public.

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FRIDAY (1/13)

"Rescue" by Henk Pender (2005)

This Friday is a night for art receptions. And how! We’ve got S/ART/Q’s “Avant Garden” at the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens. Then there’s your last chance to see the “secret works” of Ringling College of Art and Design student Darcy Little. The closing reception for her solo exhibit “GRAND ARENA” runs from 5–10 p.m. at Ringling College’s Crossley Gallery. Apparently not even her professors know what’s in store for us, but in a recent interview Little said she hopes exhibit-goers “have a great time, while simultaneously being shocked and horrified.” Before the shock and horror, from 5–7 p.m. you can also visit the campus’ Selby Gallery to view large-scale watercolors and oils by Dutch-born painter Henk Pander.

SATURDAY (1/14)

The Blue Owl is importing a little naughtiness this weekend with Le Teaze, Tampa’s premiere pin-up burlesque troupe! If you haven’t experienced the Owl by now, let me tell you that it’s an, ahem, “intimate” kind of joint, so for a $15 admission you ladies and gentlemen can get up close and personal with these bewitching dames. I hear they’ve rigged the bar so the ladies of Le Teaze may can-can at eye level. Watch out for those heels! We’ve been promised jello shots to boot, so get gussied up and downtown by 10 p.m.

SUNDAY (1/15)

To wash the taste of fishnets and feather boas out of your mouth, all you 25-plussers are invited to swing by the Stardust Skate Center for  an Old School Skate Party! I’m actually hoping everyone sports burlesque wear anyway, and that you post many pics to my Facebook page. At any rate, the “adult skate” gets rolling at 8 p.m., and if you can grab a ticket before Sunday it’s $10 to join in. Otherwise, bring $12 to the door.

- See you … where? Tell the Scenestress to come along via email, Facebook and/or Twitter.

Pucker up, mama!

My first impression upon entering the Hyatt Regency Sarasota last Friday was that this hotel was a mighty swanky spot in which to kick off a biker weekend. I guess I’d envisioned a mass of muddy boots and beer-sloshing, but as I followed two leather-clad chrome divas down to the ballroom, even the saltiest road warriors I passed appeared to be on their best behavior.

In fact, the most ‘tude I got all night came from a Blue Knight manning the entrance, who encouraged me to “come up with a better line next year” when I presented my ID for media access. Obviously I’m such a shyster! After a little back-and-forth, he grudgingly slapped a wristband on me and I sailed into the ballroom.

I immediately felt a major attack of boot envy. My heelless kicks looked totally frumpy among the pairs of towering thigh-high stilettos, the coy ankle-hugging wedges, the leopard print cowgirl boots — all embellished with rawhide laces, fringe, rhinestones and enough chain to stock a hundred fetish dens. Ladies and gents alike were decked out to the nines in their finest leathers.

One of the Jagermeister girls took pity on my lack of flair and tossed a cute black cap my way. While the crowd waited for the music to fire up, they browsed through the substantial silent auction, tossed coins in the slot machines and warmed up at the bars. I rubbed elbows with Tom and Randy, a pair of out-of-towners. The latter was doing a fantastic job of living up to his name as he approached a pair of lusty ladies standing at a high-top. Tom and I watched in disbelief as he tried — and succeeded — to plant a big kiss on both women.

After a minute more of flirtation, though, Randy came back shaking his head. “I don’t think I can do what they’re asking me,” he mumbled sheepishly. Trust me, I didn’t want to know.

Randy went to grab a greasy bite, Tom left to hunt down a Jager bomb and, at last, the Billy Rice Band took the stage. The crowd was more than ready. Lubed-up biker chicks pulled reticent dates onto the floor, and the dancing began in earnest right away. “You all are drunk! I like that!” Rice exclaimed from the stage, and his band whipped the dancers into a fever pitch with “Mustang Sally.”

Meeting Jeni and "Big Brian" was the understatement of the week.

The band had exhausted most of us by midnight. I propped up my feet in the lobby and watched the revelers leave the Hyatt, loaded down with signed guitars, enormous gift baskets and other silent auction loot. The night echoed with the rumble of engines and the hooting of hundreds of happy bikers, ready to kick up their booted heels all weekend in sunny Sarasota. The fun wasn’t close to over for me, in fact, as I hopped on the party wagon with Time Bandit Offshore Racing Crew Member Jeni Craig and headed over to the 8-Ball Lounge for some after-hours carousing. Thanks to everyone for letting me hang with the big dogs!

THIS WEEKEND

You remember S/ART/Q? Well, to my complete lack of surprise they’re staying super busy! After the great success of “THIRTEEN” at G.WIZ — read Kevin Costello’s thorough review if you were unlucky enough to miss it — this Friday (1/13) they’re unveiling “Avant Garden,” a collaborative project with the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens. Come see what happens when a variegated group of artists go on a creative safari through one of Sarasota’s horticultural wonderlands. The reception begins at 5:30 p.m.

FRIDAY

You’ve survived one week of your New Year’s diet resolution without loss of life or limb, and now the Gulf Coast Cheese Fest is here to blow it for you. Who can say no to a macaroni and cheese competition, hosted by Molly Klauber and furnished by a slew of both local and amateur chefs? I’ll go ahead and say my resolve has a snowball’s chance in you-know-where. At least Molly’s Mac n’ Cheese S’Mac Down is providing a dance floor and a cash bar for inspiration to boogie off the calories. You can ease your grip on your wallet, too—it’s free to get in, and only a dollar to cast your vote for the “Top Mac Award.” Be still, my grumbling stomach. The epic cheesing begins at 7:30 p.m. in the Fete Ballroom of the Polo Grill and Bar.

I can’t assume everyone possesses a will of tinfoil, however, so if you’re not excited to get your mac on, then Ringling College’s Longboat Key Center for the Arts offers a multimedia event that’ll be a feast for other senses. This special performance celebrates the opening of AFFINITIES, a duo exhibit by artists Ken Cro-Ken and Rebecca Allan. Allan is a fellow of the Hermitage Artist Retreat, the area’s prestigious getaway for nationally-renowned composers, writers, painters and the like. Composer Laura Kaminsky, also a Hermitage fellow, and the Oxygen 3 trio from New York will present “Horizon Lines,” a piece scored for oboe, bassoon and piano that Kaminsky wrote during her residency here. Wait, I left something out: “Horizon Lines” has a part for digital film, too, and filmmaker John Feldman created the accompanying visual “instrument” using selections of Allan’s paintings. Cro-Ken will then borrow Oxygen 3′s Matt Sullivan to perform an improvisational duet for oboe and live painting titled “MULTIPLE ONENESS.” There will be a pop quiz at the end of class … This concert is also free but space is limited, so make your reservation for the 7:30 p.m. event right away.

SATURDAY

Pay attention to the Soundboard: if you haven’t caught an Amazon Woman show yet, then this may well be your last chance. And if you like sweet pop that rolls and crashes like Siesta Beach surf (i.e., warm and pleasant), you’ll sorely regret missing said chance. I hear that Growler’s Pub will set up two stages to accommodate all the bands that are assisting with Amazon Woman’s last hoorah, including Fancy Rat, The Dewars, Physical Plant and The Send-Offs. Think that last one was intentional? Well played, anyway. The farewell concert starts at 8:30 p.m. Entry is $3 for 21+ and $5 for under 21.

- Is that everything? E-mail the Scenestress or visit her on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr to tell her what she’s missing.

Before Dawn came from Austin, Tex. to kick off the Cock & Bull's NYE party.

On New Year’s Eve I watched fireworks glinting over the tops of trees in the Cock & Bull’s back yard. As (the) Umbrella Cult and SECRETscience rocked my eardrums, I wished to be some kind of social, glammed-up amoeba who could split into dozens of Scenestresses to check out each party on every block.

The “Wu-Year’s Eve” show at The Blue Owl had beckoned ever so seductively on New Year’s Eve, so when I heard the next day that Spiral Enterprises and Phoenix Rising Entertainment had another Tang-flavored show up their sleeves that very night, I jumped out the door.

I knew it was going to be quiet relative to the night before, but the hush over Main Street was more post-apocalyptic than hung over. Still, a small huddle had gathered outside the venue and a few souls clung resolutely to the bar inside. That’s what I like about the Blue Owl: what it lacks in style, it makes up for in sheer stamina.

“Kids these days,” one grizzled gent told me over his beer, “they don’t know how to keep up!”

I was surprised to find that the mixing and scratching had yet to begin. DJ J. Saki of Wu-Tang fame was running over an hour late, apparently trying to rustle up some turntables. I swallowed my disappointment with some cabernet and peeked outside to discover something I didn’t know about the Blue Owl: every Sunday is Poker Night.

I know nothing about poker, but that didn’t stop Mark, the convivial dealer, from insisting I take a seat. Once assured that the game was just for fun — you know that odd holiday phenomenon where your wallet grows slender while your belly does the opposite? — I plopped down between Mike Murphy and Pete Hansen, two skinny dudes who support good times at the Blue Owl on their shoulders, Atlas-style. The boys bluffed their way into scoring big piles of chips while I, playing the conservative newbie, proceeded to lose everything and leave the table first. Alas, it was too soon! I was enjoying Texas Hold’em far too much to want to quit.

At some point during the game the gear arrived, but Pete was too busy failing at losing to assist with set-up. The show’s delay stretched on. Even the Scenestress has to sleep at some point, so I figured it was time to cut my losses and head home. I took a bet on seeing a Wu-Tang family member and lost — but I won my first experience at the card table in the process.

No pressure, low key and grins all around. I’m cashing that in as a night well spent.

THIS WEEKEND

Get ready for a leather-and-chains takeover! Thunder by the Bay is back for it’s 14th rumble, and the engines will roar all weekend. Starting at 7 p.m. on Friday (Jan. 6), the Hyatt Regency Sarasota turns into Hog heaven for the “Born to Be Wild” kickoff party. Look forward to casino-style gaming, a silent auction and live music by the Billy Rice Band. It’s $15 at the door to get in, and get this: dress is “biker casual.” Will someone please send me the fashion guide?

On Saturday (Jan. 7) and Sunday (Jan. the Downtown Festival fills up various venues with music, vendors and demos of the most magnificent specimens of the iron horse. Live bands include local club champs like The Boneshakers and the RJ Howson Band, and AC/DC tribute act Highway to Hell headlines on Saturday night. But that’s hardly all! Check out a full schedule of events at thunderbythebay.org.

- Keep your motor running with the Scenestress on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr.

Libby’s Cafe + Bar is adding a Bloody Mary bar to  Sunday brunch, and it’s going to be big-time spicy! We’re talking 20 specialty vodkas, 20 different hot sauces, an array of pickles and garnishes and all the condiments imaginable. It’ll all be at your disposal to make your own unique concoction with however much zing you need to start your day … or to keep your all-nighter going; hey, it’s your party! Brunch at Libby’s begins at 10:30  a.m. and leisurely lingers until 3 p.m.

Libby’s isn’t the only spot offering a twist on NYD brunch this year: The Drag Queen Brunch at Sangria Tapas Bar has made such a splash that, starting this Sunday, it’s becoming a steady affair in 2012. That’s right. $11.99 gets you the pick of a delish buffet, a mid-morning cocktail (if you please) and the sumptuous, wise-cracking company of a fabulous cast of Sarasota queens. Drag Queen Brunches benefit Step Out Sarasota and ALSO Out Youth. You have two seatings to choose from at 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. Reservations highly recommended!

Photo by Pete Boden of Shoot 2 Thrill Pix.

Got a boat? Firstly: nice. Secondly, you should bring it to the 10th Street ramp around 10:30 a.m. to get in on the 2012 New Year’s Day Fun Run! Whatever the shape or size of your craft, you’re welcome to join. There’s no cost to enter and it’s not really a race, so feel free to relax and enjoy yourself out on the waves. This year’s excursion is held in memory of longtime Fun Runner Joey Gratton. Word is that the route will cruise north across Sarasota Bay and into Tampa Bay waters, then down Manatee River all the way to Tarpon Pointe. Food, drinks, music and corn hole await. Enjoy, but please remember to boat safely and responsibly, dears!

– The Scenestress can be found running all over town, or chilling out on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr.

Faux snow made a surprise appearance mid-party.

“Did you see it yet?” was the big question of the evening, “it” being Joseph’s Coat, a gigantic hole in the roof of the Ringling Museum. In your Scenestress’ unqualified opinion, the new James Turrell Skyspace is a lot more than that, but the folks who had to wait longer for their viewing generally held more ornery opinions of the museum’s latest acquisition.

I myself was ushered into the colonnade with a flock of other media geeks around 7:30 p.m. I settled onto one of the wooden benches and tilted my head back to gaze over three stories upward at this 24-square-foot aperture that has the local art scene all a-flutter. Turrell is a master of twisting perspective and playing with perception. The opening in the courtyard roof appears perfectly two-dimensional, as if the the sky above rests its belly right on top of the museum. A shifting palette of colored lights illuminate the curved ceiling. Sounds simple, but Turrell’s perfectionism makes the overall effect pretty sublime. At the time of our viewing the sun had completely set, and as the dome changed color the night sky appeared  inky and cloudless at times, then later glowed an eerie golden green. I swear I wasn’t on anything, but the longer I stared into the abyss, the more it seemed to stare back. The edges were starting to breathe when a crick in my neck forced me to look at my lap. I’d say the only thing wanting in this installation are some headrests.

Affairs in the Air tricked out the trees with glitz.

After a half hour of sitting in reverent, slightly humid silence, our group filed out of the chamber and back into the lavish museum courtyard, where DJ Imminent was warming up his speakers. The general public started to trickle in and queue up for pretzels and drinks. The line for the Treviso’s adult snowcones in pretty pastels grew especially long. As I wandered over to a shorter line, who should I bump into but a couple stars from an earlier excursion: gallery owner Christian Stakenborg and artist Nikitas Kavoukles. Stakenborg kindly bought the round and Kavoukles invited me to join their party up on the balcony. I was introduced to an elegant group of arts divas comprising three Carols and one Liz Bergmann, and together we watched DJ Immi play the crowd like an exuberant, tipsy instrument. They conga-lined to “Love Train” and Cupid Shuffled their hearts out. The people kvetching about the wait to see the Skyspace must not have noticed a terrific party happening right under their noses.

Still, mixed reviews circulated throughout the courtyard. A pair of lovely New College damsels who took a sneak peek the week prior were still excited to see the finished Skyspace well after 10 o’clock. Moments later, a seasoned art critic told me, “I’m spoiled — I’ve seen better.” Some were hypnotized as I was, and others were unabashedly nonplussed. As the party wound down and the dance floor thinned, my friends and I sipped our nightcaps and wondered what the Skyspace would look like at sunset, or in a heavy rain. Suffice it to say that for most, it highly encourages repeat viewings.

This weekend

Out of the frying pan of one holiday weekend, into the fire of another! Where will you spend your New Year’s Eve? We’ve got live music and DJs out the wazoo on Saturday, including rock at the Cock & Bull Pub, hip hop at The Blue Owl and dance/house at Rhythm Nightclub. Just to name a tiny few.

– Where your party at? Catch up with the Scenestress on Facebook, Twitter and e-mail.

FRIDAY (12/23)

Schmaltz Brewing Company, famous for their He’Brew and Coney Island lines of craft beer, have selected Sarasota’s own Mr. Beery’s to be one of 150 Chosen Bars in the whole nation. Schmaltz is celebrating 15 years of producing beer with chutzpah. Starting at 8 p.m. until the taps run dry, Beery’s will pour some of Schmaltz’s finest, including the brand new Jewbilation Fifteen: 15 different malts, 15 different hops, and 15% ABV. Yeah, you get it.

Is anyone still complaining about how nobody brings out-of-town bands to Sarasota? Well then, The Closet invites you to put this in your pipe and smoke it: Orlando INVADES the Blue Owl! This all-Disney-city lineup includes one-man sound wash Maximino, garage-y psyched-out Alias Punch and garage-y surf’s-up Thee Wilt Chamberlain and finally, the somewhat holiday-appropriate Tam-tam the Sandwich Man and the Magical Sugar Cookies. This show’s all ages, kiddies! 9:30 p.m., $3.

SUNDAY (12/25)

Sarasota’s favorite beast that goes “whomp” in the night has returned! Who knew the Midwestern US had such a taste for dubstep? I certainly did not. At any rate, Shock to the System refuses to rest on his laurels, opting instead to bring that bass thump to Pastimes Pub and celebrate a very Merry WHOMPsmas! Yet another cover-less show, STTS kicks it off at 9 p.m. 21+.

- What naughty or nice things are you getting into this weekend? Let the Scenestress in on it via Facebook, Twitter and e-mail.

Turns out I could use a little more reggae in my life.

Late last weekend, I was sitting on my couch when I realized something was wrong — I’d been having trouble getting up. There was plenty going on to tempt me out the door: live radio shows at the Five Points Collective, multiple ugly sweater parties, shopping ops at craft fairs, shows, shows and more shows. Still, I felt absolutely uninspired.

Perhaps the emotional roller-coaster that is the holiday season had me a little whipped. I was stuck in a pit of nostalgia for Christmases past, the stress of gifts un-bought and cards un-mailed, and the heady flush of holiday parties. On Sunday afternoon, I sought out a change of pace in the cabaret-style revue from the Artist Series Concerts of Sarasota.

It should have been the feel-good event of the season, but I left fearing that another “pa-rrum-pum-pum-pumm” would leave me screaming on the floor. No offense to Jeff Harnar, of course. I just desperately needed an antidote to Christmas cheer.

Flash back to Saturday night, outside The Blue Owl, playing a spirited game of “Guess the Drag Queen in Line at the Gator Club,” when my bestie mentioned he’d been invited to a reggae show the next night. My limited experience with reggae music comes mainly from the decks of Carnival cruise ships, so I’m definitely not a connoisseur. But come Sunday, the prospect of live reggae shone like a beacon of hope into my padded cell of holiday apathy. I recalled my friend’s words from the night before: “A lot of reggae music makes me picture riding in a Jeep really slow through the jungle. Or, more like riding a lion.” Yes, I thought. I need more than just a change of pace; I need a change of territory.

8:15 p.m. found me arriving unfashionably early to The Gator Club, where Road Block was scheduled to shake my blues loose. Sick of cinnamon and hot toddies, I ordered up a tequila sunrise, in which the generous bartender and I have similar tastes: not too sweet, with just a virginal blush of grenadine. While the band set up, reggaefied Christmas tunes pumped through the house speakers. Sigh. After an hour of this aural torture, I was ready to cut my losses and run for it, when the be-dreaded gentlemen of Roadblock finally took the stage.

Inhale. Fresh air. Roadblock made no mention of Santa Claus coming to town and were clearly bent on keeping the night anything but silent. I’m not quite sure why a constant, midtempo “oomp-chicky, oomp-chicky” makes my hips and shoulders involuntarily sway, but apparently I’m not the only one who suffers from this curious symptom. By the end of Roadblock’s first set, the beat had tugged quite a few of us barflies and wallflowers onto the dance floor. The red and green LEDs started to look like regular old club lights, and I felt my sanity slowly seeping back in.

Christmas is now at our doorstep, and thanks to a one-night holiday from the holidays, I feel ready to greet it with grace.

THIS WEEKEND

Shock to the System is Sarasota’s unstoppable force of whomp. To celebrate a successful tour through the Midwest, STTS gives you the gift of holiday dubstep. If all the Christmas Day eggnog didn’t make you wobble enough, get on down to Pastimes Pub on the night of 12/25 for theSTTS Merry WHOMPsmas! 21+, no cover!

FRIDAY (12/16)

OUT@AsoloRep is kicking off its third season this weekend with a double reception! Which makes sense to me, ’cause OUT@AsoloRep is all about two fun things in one: connecting with Sarasota’s LGBT community, and seeing some world-class theater.  The evening starts with a pre-show reception at 7:15 to whet your appetite for the classic musical “My Fair Lady.” After the show, OUT supporters are invited to yet another soiree, where you’ll be able to sip cocktails with the cast members. OUT events will return on a monthly basis, and include a 25 percent discount on tickets! Visit the event page for more details.

Back — doubtless by popular demand — the 2nd Annual Tacky Sweater Party at the Rusty Hook Tavern is gonna get everybody feeling all wild and woolly. DJ eKKo will spin the hits while the bartends pour free shots for everyone who brings an unwrapped toy for the Toys for Tots Foundation. And of course, a panel of your esteemed peers will award some sweet prizes to the wearers of the three most revolting sweaters. Tampa Bay Lightning tickets, anyone? I’ve already got my get-up picked out, and boy — it’s a doozy. So go comb some thrift stores and bring it, y’all.  This shindig is a 21+-only affair, with a $5 cover. 9 p.m.-2 a.m.

SATURDAY (12/17)

If you read my column like a good Scenester, you’ll already have the heads-up on These Quiet Sounds‘  Sarasota launch party for their brand new apparel, music and art shop, taking place at the Boatyard Waterfront Bar & Grill from 9 p.m.-2 a.m. Whether you’re hunting for something special for that special someone, or you’re committed to shopping local for the holidays — or better, both — then this is a great place to start. I’m already a fan of their tank tops and hand-painted kicks. Word is that they’ll unveil some fresh new designs at the party, and hand out some giveaways.

- Want to tip off the Scenestress about a sweet show or shindig? E-mail her, or contact her on Facebook and Twitter.

The artist himself, relaxed in jeans and a blue blazer, chatted up knots of smiling, nodding silverhairs while I prodded and “scuse-me’d” along the gallery wall, inching past Dali, Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec and some stout fella loudly praising the health of the diamond market.

Why, hello — red wine and a Yume Sushi loveboat from next door! Suddenly this was my kind of art opening.

I popped morsels in my mouth while Mr. Christian Stakenborg patiently explained to me the difference between an etching and a lithograph. I could have listened to his droll Dutch accent for hours on any dang subject, but two figures shrouded from head to toe in shimmering gold veils appeared over his shoulder. I went from bemused to befuddled as they silently stalked through the crowded gallery. Was it okay to stare? Because I couldn’t really help myself. Then, when Kavoukles’ wife Carol wrapped a shimmering gold strip around my wrist, the lightbulb flickered on … duh, performance art!

Then this sweaty, wrecked dude lurched through the door with a bleach-blonde belly dancer on his arm. Her sparkling, jingling, screaming turquoise get-up practically blanched the paintings on the walls — and boy, that bustier was crying out for some backup. At first I wondered … more performance art? In its own special way, yes, it certainly was.

On the other side of the Trail at G.WIZ, the crowd at the S/ART/Q opening of “THIRTEEN” looked pretty diff — okay, younger — sporting plenty of asymmetrical haircuts and a lot more skinny denim. A certain Cat in the Basement cracked a Yuengling for me at the bar, and I headed upstairs to be confronted by Bridezilla’s D_ck, an Amy W. Miller original sculpture. Not all of my fellow gawkers were amused by the title, but I think lately we’ve all been learning a little about the artistic license to provoke thanks to a certain downtown mural, amirite?

I spotted S/ART/Q co-founder Tim Jaeger hanging out by a couple of his “Laundry Series” paintings. I like listening to Tim talk, too — something about that slight Western Kentucky drawl layered over his earnest and articulate conversation makes me long for bourbon and a back porch.

“I want to try to help them understand so they can grow with it,” he told me of his artwork. “If you build stairs, people will climb up to the second floor. It sounds simple, but if I give them stairs people will go to the next level with me.” Say no more, Tim; I’m already up on the roof.

This. Is. MINDBALL.

Ultimately, other open wings of the museum ensnared me, and I spent the rest of my art excursion goofing with the “Whisper Dishes” and being terrified by G.WIZ’s resident Vietnamese giant centipede. The entire evening felt like a glorious age regression: I went from discussing archetypal figures in oil paintings at 6:30 to playing with magnets by 9.

The most remarkable part? For all that artsy fartsy fun, I didn’t have to spend a dime.

Speaking Of Free: THIS WEEKEND

Sarasota’s getting a new clothing company in its backyard, and this Saturday (12/17) These Quiet Sounds are hosting its apparel/art/music blog/store’s debut party. They’ve come to show off their newest prints, posters, one-of-a-kind handpainted sneaks and more cool swag. Go to Clothesline if you want to preview the goodies they’ll have at the party. Then get down to the Boatyard Waterfront Bar and Grill Saturday night, where TQS’ll be spreading the love with food, drinks and giveaways until 2 a.m.

- You can hear more about how much the Scenestress loves her new job on Facebook and Twitter.

My compatriot-about-town and I had just polished off several courses at downtown’s hottest new sweet spot, Eat Here, and decided that we were in desperate need of a little Friday-night rump-shaking before we fell into a blissful food coma there on the sidewalk. And lo, right around the corner loomed the answer to our prayers: the brand spanking-new Rhythm Nightclub and Bassline Lounge.

We coughed up our five bucks each at the door and said “why not” to the door chick’s proffered raffle tickets. Inside, one couple lurked in a shadowy corner as my companion and I planted ourselves at the bar. The band du jour behind us cranked out faded radio hits with little enthusiasm. Not that I blame them – they nearly outnumbered us.

Rhythm is huge, with a raised stage, wicked sound and light rigs, a vast dance floor downstairs and a techno lounge upstairs. This made it a real bummer that I could count with one hand the number of people wandering by.

My gin and tonic was a real teeth-gritter, though, so in my opinion things had started to look up. I wandered upstairs past one of the idle security beefcakes to survey the Bassline Lounge. The dull thud from the DJ booth hadn’t inspired any of the babes or their gel-headed beaux to loosen up, despite the stiffness of the drinks. Horror of horrors, I felt myself growing bored.

Fortunately, the announcement of the raffle brought me back to my senses. I scurried downstairs as they called the first number. The visibly frustrated emcee decided to stop at five tries. Again, silence. Until I realized my second ticket was the lucky winner.

Faster than I could bat a lash, I became the proud owner of an entire liter of Ketel One Oranje. The emcee and a doll-sized bottle girl escorted me and my mixers upstairs to the VIP area, poured me another mighty drink and left me to my own devices.

I texted as I’ve never texted before, inviting friends to come share my bounty of booze. In return, I got invites to go catch shows at other clubs. It just didn’t seem to be Rhythm’s night. Once my date returned, the two of us Very Isolated People put a shallow dent in the bottle and decided this baby was way too big a commitment. Our charming and rather sympathetic attendant arranged to save it for another time, before we went from a little loosey-goosey to totally trashed.

As we slunk into the night, I noticed the Bassline Lounge had filled up a little with more spirited dancing, which gives me hope. If you’re into booming music, pretty lights and strong drinks, then Rhythm isn’t so shabby. But you just might need those strong drinks if your experience there resembles mine.

This silhouette will be getting a makeover next week!

After a rigorous application process, a contentious online popularity contest and sample columns from the final five compeititors that made it difficult for us to pick a favorite, we have finally crowned the new Scenestress. She (or he) knows the local scene, has his (or her) fingers on the pulse of Sarasota’s nightlife and can turn a phrase.

Don’t think, however, that the new Scenestress will be just like outgoing nightlife maven Veronica Pastore. The new model will bring their own perspective on everything from drag shows to foam parties, galas to after-hours parties.

The new Scenestress’ first real column will appear next week in Ticket, but you can read her (or him) before then by going to ticketsarasota.com/scenestress, or following The Scenestress on Facebook or Twitter (@thescenestress). He (or she) will be posting her takes on the best events to attend and the latest interesting places to open, as well as a Scenestress guide to the weekend every Thursday. Have a tip for the new Scenestress? Use Facebook, Twitter or email to thescenestress@gmail.com.

What about the non-winners in the new Scenestress showdown? Hey, we liked all of them and hopefully you’ll see some of them appearing in these pages and on ticketsarasota.com in the near future, to give their unique perspective on the area’s happenings.

In the meantime, here’s a tease to get you back in Scenestress mode – an abridged version of the new Scenestress’ winning entry. We asked all the finalists to go to the newish Rhythm Nightclub and Lounge and give us their take. Read what the new Scenestress had to say.

Notes: You can vote once per hour. One of the ways that is determined is through IP address logging, which means that only one vote from a particular IP address will count each hour.

Voting has ended! Keep an eye out to see which candidates made it to the final five!

Who will be the next Scenestress?

After Veronica Pastore announced her retirement as The Scenestress – a role she created — Ticket called for people to apply to be the next Scenestress. Despite the rigorous and extensive application (and the promise of more to come) we received dozens of responses. After tossing out the few submitted in jest (or rage), we were left with 20 candidates for the job, some more worthy than others.

Now it’s up to you to pick three finalists who will compete in in an interview and writing challenge, along with two people chosen by the judging committee (just in case you show bad judgment). Not only will you be doing us a favor by reading through the applications and picking the person you think would do the best job as Ticket’s nightlife columnist, this week-long vote is also a challenge for the candidates themselves. Which potential Scenestress can mobilize their existing social media base (or even just family and friends) to put themselves over the top?

Ballot stuffing? We pretty much expect it.

Take a look at the candidates’ applications by following the links below, then go vote for who you think deserves a chance at local fame and a moderate freelance fee. Or, better yet, who do you think will do the best job as the next Scenestress?

VOTE NOW!

Alena E. Gurov-Pridyuk
B. Bond Cort
Eduardo Anaya
Emily Lenehan
Gabriel Hernandez
James R. Beckman
Jessi Smith
Jessie Schneider
Joshua Beadle
Karyn Elliott
Kaye Warr
Kirsten Sponseller
Nicole Valentino
Paulina Testerman
Sara Stovall
Sean O’Conner
Shantel Norman
Therese McNamara
Van Jazmin
Wayne Stephens

When I overheard this statement from my cubicle in December of ’08, I knew Creative Loafing’s editor-in-chief, Cooper Levey-Baker, was talking about me. A few years after moving to SRQ from the Midwest, I was toiling as a graphic designer for the now-defunct alt-weekly newspaper. While laying out ads was pretty dull, I loved being surrounded by smart, offbeat young people who cared enough about this city to suffer the long hours, low pay and evil publisher.

Our previous arts writer had bailed for much-cooler Portland, and he wanted someone to fill her nightlife column. Based on Coop’s description of the ideal candidate, I thought I could give it a shot. I was super-plugged into the young local art/music scene, racking up interesting new friends at bars and events week after week.

We brainstormed about a fun name, and within a few short weeks I became “The Scenestress,” Creative Loafing’s girl about town, getting the scoop on the hot, hip and happening. We decided I would write anonymously to, in theory, allow people to be themselves around me and ensure that I didn’t receive any special treatment. Fun and mysterious.

It quickly became my personal mission to show that Sarasota is, in fact, a fun place for young people, exciting even — if, that is, one knew where to look. With the explosion of Facebook and my IRL network, I had no shortage of suggestions and shared my finds in the paper and online each week. I gave praise when due, looked for the good but honestly touched on flaws. People loved The Scenestress and consistently remarked what a breath of fresh air she was.

I covered local hip-hop, rock and indie shows, celebrity Super Bowl parties, buckets of LGBT shindigs, the Sarasota Film Festival, art events, burlesque, society galas, even Martha Stewart’s visit to town. It was more fun than I probably had a right to, spent weekend after weekend with cocktail and iPhone in hand, posting live to Facebook and dragging myself back to my desk every Monday to file a report.

I was thrilled when the Herald-Tribune picked The Scenestress up at the end of 2010, when Creative Loafing folded its Sarasota paper. Shirtless bachelors, karaoke, pole dancing and a couple of contentious columns about a mega-yacht and local live music later, it’s still great fun.

Shockingly, I’ve grown up a bit in the process. I got a real professional job, and stepped away from the party lifestyle I so loved at first.

But The Scenestress must go on, and I’m excited to pass the torch to someone else. This town needs someone to keep sharing how “the scene” in Sarasota is thriving and growing, with new bars, indie art galleries and local bands popping up daily. It’s time for the next bright, hungry boy or girl just dying for a chance to give his or her take on SRQ, someone who really lives and breathes this nightlife thin, to do just that.

That’s right: Calling all you clever, clued-in, quick-witted trend-spotting guys and gals — you too could be out and about, covering the latest bar opening, downtown art show or celebrity appearance. (Apply now!)

Thank you all for embracing and loving me and my work these last three years. It’s been a joy and an honor. I hope I’ve been able to love you sufficiently back.

Keep up the good stuff, SRQ, I’ll be watching.

–Veronica Pastore, Formerly known as The Scenestress

And no matter who’s doing the Scenestressing, you can follow on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr for the scoop on all things nightlife.