The cherry blossoms held.  They held on for Cherry Weekend. All around Dupont Circle, from P Street to U, from 14th to 17th, pink-covered branches shimmered in the sun and shivered in the breeze, sending cherry blossoms fluttering to the ground: a carpet of cherry blossoms underfoot as the boyz arrived on Friday and Saturday.  That’s some kind of art direction by the Cherry Fund. 

This was the red part of what Noize magazine called the Red, White, and Blue Weekend—an unusual convergence of three circuit events happening on the same weekend.  Boyz from all over the States were flying off to Palm Springs, Dallas, and DC, for the White, Purple and Cherry parties.

Since its inception over ten years ago, the Cherry Fund of DC has raised nearly a million dollars for local LGBT service organizations, and this year’s beneficiaries included a number of youth-based organizations (because, let’s face it, youth is the future) such as Advocates for Youth (with an ad in the gorgeous Cherry program which read “Abstinence-only-until-marriage programs are BAD for EVERYONE”—and AMEN to that!) and Pediatric AIDS/HIV Care, whose ad in the program stated that 86% of those infected with HIV in DC are people of color—and lest we forget, it was people of color who built DC—literally.  Other beneficiaries were Sexual Minority Youth Assistance League, which helps LGBT youth 13-21, as well as Metro TeenAIDS.  Who wouldn’t want to party in the name of helping such laudable organizations?

So it was off to Apex on Friday night.  Apex, the well loved Friday night dance palace (once known as Badlands) on 22nd Street, where Alexander from LA was spinning (before heading off to Palm Springs for his gig at White).  The Cherry Fund people are so polite—and well organized.  Their volunteers are like graduates of hotel school: charming and gracious.  There were trays of crudités on the bars—and VIP was a petite sanctum sanctorum above the floor.  But once Alexander plated Offer and Maya’s latest (Cherry) smash, “Wish U Were Here,” the floor was where everyone headed.  There was the DC posse!  There was RUSTY!  (Where have you been?)  And the Miami posse!  Boyz from South Beach in DC to represent!  And the New Orleans posse, there for Peter Rauhofer.  And Jesus from Atlanta—because he lives for Mark Anthony (but that was the next night).  Right then, it was all about Alexander and his urging us all to “Use It Up” and “let the music take you higher.” Which was exactly what happened—and what the boyz wanted—and why they were there on a Friday night at Apex for Cherry Weekend.

Circuit weekends can be so regenerative: those long, late mornings in a hotel bed—with room service—and servicing in bed…  And then the walkabout—through the gay nabe, which in the case of DC means a quick cruise around Dupont Circle, and then across the newly chic P Street, past Whole Foods and Halo, Merkato and Logan Tavern, and on up 14th Street, the latest DC gay locus, to Universal Gear, where the boyz were lining up to buy gear and tix for that night’s Main Event with Mark Anthony at 9:30 Club—and then to brunch at Café St. Ex—where an adorable four-eyed Prada-wearing waiter named Deavenport werked our nerves—before it was back to Halo on P Street, where all the little angels hang out—waiting to be fallen.  Those wicked Halo angels, plying boyz with half-price Cherry martinis all weekend long—and then scurrying off to the Cherry venues to set up the Halo VIP lounges with their signature sweets.

It was “Amazing”—the first song we heard when we cruised into Main Event at 9:30 Club on V Street—and it was.  A beautiful club, clean and well-maintained, with excellent sightlines, two mezzanines, a stage—and dark, dark, dark, the 9:30 Club was decorated for Cherry with gorgeous cherry blossom scrims in the style of the Japanese master, Hiroshige, as well as a full-stage movie-screen silver scrim of a snow-covered, tree-lined street—and a VIP skybox strewn with rose petals, ivy vines, tea lights, and teacups filled with candy, mints, and gum.  High above the dance floor, snowflakes drifted past the mirror ball, like cherry blossoms falling from the sky.  The lights flashed pink, red, and blue—as we made out Karen and Michelle!  Tod and Gorm!  MOODY!  And Cherry chair Paul Marengo and co-chairs Allen Sexton and Kat Danaher.  

And in the booth, it was Mr. Montreal himself, Mark Anthony, werking Maya’s “On My Own”—“I don’t need you to tell me…  This time I’m on my own now”—and then “Change,” with its lyric “You can do it”—before he shifted into “Twist in My Sobriety” and Queen’s “I’ve Got to Break Free.”  The Montreal maestro wove an acoustic narrative of lust, desire, and need—before segueing into local sensation Shi-Queeta Lee’s performance with the Results Gym dancers—and later a number from Circuit Mom as a flaming cherry red flapper.  And throughout the night, there was the fabulous flagger Philip Bryan swirling fabric kaleidoscopes.

Then the entire light ring lowered from the ceiling, hovering just above the crowd, as Mark Anthony brought it all down, deep and darker, with a smash-up of “Gotta Work It Out” and then a propulsive re-working of “Stand By Me.” This was Montreal sex music: a pounding bass with melodic undertones.  “Gonna take you up, activate my body.”  It was soulful and pounding: a pounding with soul.  The sort of request you might be hearing later in the morning: “Gimme a pounding with soul, baby.”  Consider it done. 

From there, from then on, Mark Anthony had the crowd where he wanted them: putty in his hands, to do as he wished.  And he gave it right back, with a brilliantly suspended and orgasmic “Crave U.”  “I love you so.  Crave you til I make you.  How can I make you wait?  Stop making me wait.  Give me what you know is coming to me.  Crave you, I love you so.”

Let’s face it, this was a chance to hear one of the greats—and everyone at Cherry Main Event felt it.  As the Cherry Fund puts it in their mission statement, their number one goal is to raise as much money as possible for the Beneficiaries—and enjoying good music is simply a byproduct.  But what a beautiful byproduct Mark Anthony’s music was (complemented by superlatively evocative lighting done by John Niederhauser), the whole package uniting the crowd and propelling it toward perfect release.

It rained on Sunday—off and on, all through the day.  Rarely has a hotel bed felt so comfortable.  The cloudy skies provided the perfect excuse to remain in bed—all morning, all afternoon—and rest up for Closing Party at UltraBar.

As anyone who follows music knows, Oscar G. has a serious following, thanks to his alter ego, one half of the Murk Boys, as well as his ongoing residency at Miami’s mega-club Space.  So even with the typhoon waging across DC, it wasn’t surprising that the Oscar G. devotees showed up at ultra-chic UltraBar.  The ever-faithful Miami posse was there, as was the sexy-as-Sin Morera, fresh from his own gig at After-Hours the morning before at Fur with Peter Rauhofer.  Those Halo angels had been at it again, sprinkling sweets and goodies all around the upper lounge VIP—and so while the rain fell outside, the boyz closed down Cherry with Oscar G’s dark beats, all the while looking as sweet as cherry pie. 

That’s Cherry for you: leaving you hungry for another slice, another bite.  Thank goodness the cherry blossoms return each year, as does Cherry Weekend—thanks to that conscientious core of dedicated Cherry volunteers and participants.  Good gardeners, all of them, planting cherry seeds for a better LGBT future.