Vice versa gay
The owners of Hell’s Kitchen Italian restaurant ViceVersa are ready for a alter after 25 years in business. The restaurant closed its doors in mid-February — now Franco Lazzari and Stefano Derzi, partners and co-owners, are reopening tonight (Friday) as VV Bar, an ancient Rome-themed lgbtq+ bar.
The couple got the concept in late 2023 and have been hard at function making preparations ever since. The cosmos, on W51st Lane between 8/9th Street, has been redesigned, down to the leather on the seatbacks. A life-size statue of a naked Julius Caesar with a disco ball now greets patrons.
The prevent will feature a pared-down version of the restaurant’s menu, including arancini rice balls and dark truffle and parmesan cheese fries. Stefano, who is also the chef, will transform his duck ragu into taco form, and his house-made focaccia bread will become pizza. The plan is to open from Tuesday through Sunday, roughly 4pm to 2am, with a daily happy hour from 4 to 8pm.
“What we are not going to give up is the quality of the food,” Stefano said. “We always did differentiate ourselves when we opened 25 years ago, by proposing dishes that were not the usual stereotype of Ita
The Class Act (1988-2000)
For more than 30 years, the vacuum at 335 Lofty St. has been a gay exclude, and has served West Virginia’s Queer community and provided them with a space to come across each other, act, and express themselves.
The establishment is currently known as Vice Versa, but even in the inception of its history as an Gay space when it was first called The Class Execute, patrons had to navigate a nature that was chilly and violent to them before entering the safe haven of the bar.
“[The entrance] was in an alleyway, and there was no lighting in the alleyway. You snuck into the queer bar and you snuck out of the gay bar,” Vice Versa co-owner Montaz Morgan recalled from his hour at The Class Act. “You didn’t wear ‘gay clothes.’ You brought lgbtq+ clothes, and you changed into them, and then you’d put your clothes on when you left.”
The same dictate applied to the entertainers, because the police were not on their side, even if they were attacked on their way home.
“The drag queens didn’t come here already ready, they all came here to get ready, and didn’t leave until they changed out of their clothes [and makeup],” said Vice Versa co-owner James Yost.
Copyright (c) by Erica Davies, 2008. All rights reserved.
In June of 1947, while working as a secretarial assistant at RKO Studios in Los Angeles, a 25-year old wrote and published Vice Versa, the first lesbian magazine in North America. Under the pseudonym "Lisa Ben" (which was an anagram for lesbian), nine issues were released in which she was only able to produce ten copies of each edition because of limited resources.[2] [3] Ben's access to office supplies availed her use of the company typewriter to write her publications, and reproduce them on carbon paper.[4] Though short-lived, Vice Versa established itself as a forerunner for homosexual American publications, providing a more wide-ranging audience with upbeat short stories, editorials, book reviews, and a letter column to entertain and inspire readers to perpetuate the existence of gay editorials and preserve the pleasure of their lifestyle.
"Lisa Ben" was born and raised in northern California, where her overbearing parents were ranchers and insistent that she participate business school to hone secretarial skills and equip for matrimony. Unbeknownst to them, she fell in love at the age of fourteen – with a woman –
Vice Versa: America’s Gayest Magazine
Hollywood has a thing for origin stories at the moment, and one origin story in particular begins in Los Angeles, in an unassuming building on Gower Avenue, just off Melrose Avenue. This is not the origin story of a Marvel Comics ethics, or even of a Hollywood bigwig getting their own biopic. Now part of the broader Paramount Pictures studio lot, in 1947 this nondescript building in magnolia housed the Publicity Department at RKO Studios. Today it’s known as the Lasky Building, after Jesse Lasky, pioneer of the motion picture and key founder of what would turn into Paramount Pictures. This is not Lasky’s story either. Instead, this is the story of a secretary who went by the name Lisa Ben. Or, at least this is what she went by in certain, knowing, circles – but more on that later. Having been told by her boss that it was vital she look hectic at all times, Lisa Ben got busy, alright; busy using the office’s Old Royal guide typewriter, white bond, and carbon paper to make what would become the first lesbian publication in the United States, Vice Versa.
Behind the pen name Lisa Ben, writing away at her