Irene doesn’t want to wait any longer. For several minutes now she has been grunting impatiently. When the first parade floats start passing us by, she can hold it in no longer. “Just give me that microphone,” she says eagerly. The blonde is standing on the balcony of her friend Michael’s apartment. He has has invited his entire circle of friends to a “Pride Breakfast”. About a dozen people have shown up, and at the moment everybody is peering down at the gay parade winding its way through Palm Springs’ streets. The “breakfast” is decidedly American. Other than a few Nacho chips, paired with a fiery tomato sauce, there is nothing edible on the table. But that doesn’t seem to bother Michael’s guests in the slightest, who are putting away one Bloody Mary after the other.
The clock has since moved on to noon, and the sun is beating down from above with relentless intensity. In the same way it does every day in Palm Springs, by the way. The city has been blessed with first class weather: The sun shines 350 days of the year, and the mercury hardly ever drops below 20 degrees. To host a Gay Pride at the end of June or early July, is unthinkable – during the height of summer temperatures in the Coachella Valley can easily climb to unbearable heights, well over 40 degrees. Which is why the organisers decided to host Pride at the beginning of November. Not only does that mean no Pride competition from other cities, but it also makes it possible to celebrate the most colourful LGBT day on the calendar at a very pleasant 25 degrees.
“Hey, you all look fabulous,” shouts Irene, a blonde singer who refuses to reveal her real age, in a friendly tone. The parade participants seem delighted with the tipsy party crowd high up on the balcony, and reply encouragingly with a “Happy Pride everybody!”. After the mandatory Dikes on Bikes have roared passed, it is the political girls’ turn. They are touting placards which shout in bold letters “I DO SUPPORT THE FREEDOM TO MARRY”, and are consistently greeted with applause from the spectators. The chaos surrounding California’s take on gay-marriage, is taking centre stage. Compared to the Pride parades in our part of the world, politics appears to be much more important in the procession here in Palm Springs. Nobody is drinking any alcohol in the street either, nor in the parade – unthinkable back home.
Raucous disco music is also hardly to be heard. Then again, that might not have gone down all that well with the spectators on the side of the street. The public lining the street all seem to be of decidedly advanced years, and a number of gay couples in their golden years are also taking part in the parade. Several have even brought their folding garden chairs along, the picnic basket neatly at their feet. “Yes, the lack of young gay people is a bit of a problem here,” confesses our host, Michael. “You can really only afford Palm Springs if you earn a decent salary. It certainly isn’t cheap to live here”. Not surprisingly: After all, this city is home, or is at least the winter residence, of many wealthy Americans. Eager golf players were attracted by Palm Springs’ 150 golf courses. And American companies used to queue to host events and meetings in the city. That is still true today.
Suddenly a float filled with scrumptious guys passes under our balcony, all of the men in their late 20s or early 30s. “Of course, many young guys come to Palm Springs from San Diego and Los Angeles to spend the weekend here, and bring a great party vibe with them,” laughs Michael. And not only for Pride in November, but also during Easter, when American party chief Jeffrey Sanker hosts a series of White Parties – especially popular among American tweens. “It wouldn’t be that bad if they were to stay on,” adds Michael with a wink.
Back to Irene. She has since greeted every possible parade-goer, most of them actually by name. She seems to be very well known in the Palm Springs gay scene. Isn’t she thirsty after all that microphone action? No, she can’t have any more cocktails she decides assertively. Irene still has to perform at a hotel tonight, and has to save herself for that. “Darlings, you are cordially invited,” she shouts to those taking their leave to head to the big Pride Party in Sunrise Park. This includes the two guys from Los Angeles, who were earlier lost in the breakfast party crowd. “We met the host last night in a bar, and he spontaneously invited us,” explains Pete and Jeremy from West Hollywood. “The hospitality here in Palm Springs is simply insane. We love it!”
And so do many other gay boys and lesbian girls from all over the USA and further afield. Palm Springs is home to around 50,000 residents and is situated 180km southeast from Los Angeles. In the last 15 years the city has experienced a massive influx of residents from the LGBT community. Conservative estimates place the city’s gay community at around 30 percent of the overall population – a record that even San Francisco can’t compete with.
In the 1930s Palm Springs became famous as a haunt for Hollywood Stars in need of some R&R. The celebrity and gossip rags were full of stories about stars and what they got up to during their Palm Springs visits. This celebrity invasion lasted for some 40 years. Greta Garbo, Cary Grant, Steve McQueen, Cher, Kirk Douglas, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin – they all graced the city with their regular, or sometimes fleeting, presence.
This is something that Rober Imber can write a book about. The 60-year old, who still marches through the city donning a sun hat, has established himself some years ago as an architecture guide. His business card reads “Palm Springs Modern Tours”, printed in a chunky typeset. What is that supposed to mean? The secret love den of Elvis and Priscilla Presley? The former house of Marilyn Monroe? Or perhaps the luxurious refuge of Cary Grant? Robert covers it all. Not only does he know who, where and for how long, but he can also embellish his tales with quirky anecdotes: “Elvis and Priscilla was never able to use the main entrance to this house. That was where the paparazzi was waiting for them. So they always had to go through the bushes to slip into the house unnoticed.”
Robert’s tours is a welcome change for many gay visitors from the leisurely lifestyle that ripples through the city. At least that’s what you’d expect. But many visitors, and this is something you regularly hear from the locals, while their days away by the poolside at their resort with no intention of doing anything other than just relax. And with a selection of resorts as massive as Palm Springs’ they are spoiled for choice. Around 35 guest houses, exclusively aimed at gay men, jostle for the favour of visitors. Most of the accommodation options fall in the four star category, and range in size from five to twenty rooms.
One of these is Triangle Inn, a guesthouse built in the 1950s which still exudes the elegance of a bygone era. Owners Stephen Boyd and Michael Green, both in the early 50s, fulfilled a lifelong dream of running a resort with Triangle Inn, after they turned their backs on Atlanta. “At some point we were just fed-up with our 8 to 5 office jobs.” In their guesthouse they offer spacious rooms (including a kitchenette), and the exclusive use of a four bedroom house, which is also located on the discreetly walled grounds.
Most of the city’s resorts are split into two interesting categories. “Non-clothing optional” and “clothing optional”. This means that at many of the resorts it is acceptable to tan in the buff by the poolside, but not at others. Liberal Europeans may shrug their shoulders with indifference at the classification, but not in the Americans. In the USA an outcry at publicly exposed breasts can easily ripple through the whole country. A clothing optional rule then, is akin to a cultural revolution. This is something that Michael and Stephen are well aware of, but not something they are terribly bothered about: “The majority of our guests want this, which is why we provide it. Just like pretty much every other gay resort in Palm Springs does,” explains Michael.
There is one other way to differentiate between resorts, and according to Michael and Stephen it says a lot about the character of the guest house: day passes, or no day passes. Every resort, it seems, have their own policy whether they allow day visitors onto the grounds or not. One resort eagerly welcomes day visitors as “fresh meat”, while another strongly rejects it – surprisingly the latter makes up the majority. Michael and Stephen never considered allowing day visitors at Triangle Inn. The danger of losing one’s good standing as an accommodation provider is far to great. Word spreads quickly that the guesthouse is really nothing more than a sex club, with visitors able to come and go as they please. Security is also an issue because you have to constantly keep an eye on day visitors, all of them perfect strangers, the pair explains.
If you want to make contact with other gay travellers, you have three other options in PS. The least safe option: Sauntering down the dimly lit streets of Warm Sands Square. The square is Palm Springs’ best known cruising spot and an impressively large number of guys spend the nightly hours sitting in their car or ambling topless through the streets. “I discourage that. The police doesn’t take kindly to it and they regularly patrol the square,” says Ray Nocera who manages the Century Palm Springs gay guesthouse. It isn’t illegal to make contact though, but some cruisers took care of their needs in the square’s dark corners. “The residents complained about that.”
Option number two is one of the many gay bars that line Arenas Road. From Spurline, Streetbar and Score, to Hunters – the choice of exciting venues is huge. A visit during the week is especially recommended, that’s when most of the bars have a happy hour. Tip: On Tuesday night Blame it on Midnight is especially popular, with young and old flocking to the club. But one warning, those who book into one of the resorts on Warm Sands Square, won’t be able to get to the gay bars without relying on a taxi.
If cruising and bar crawling is a little too exhausting for you, then simply do what the city’s residents do on a daily basis – like heading to the gym. Especially when that is the World Gym, a temple to fitness as big as a football field with dozens of gay men sweating it up to the beats of club music. The atmosphere is enormously cruisey, and meeting someone is easily accomplished. Simply ask for some fitness advice in a foreign accent and you can be guaranteed to have a local rushing to you aid in no time. If there is a spark, you can be certain the workout will be followed by: “So what’s going on tonight”. It shouldn’t be too hard to come up with the suitable response…