a&e features
‘Queer Eye’s’ Bobby Berk offers dishy, celeb-heavy Q&A
Design guru in region this weekend for Belfort Furniture appearance

Bobby Berk
‘Conversation on Design’
Sunday, March 1
2 p.m.
Free
Building 3
22250 Shaw Road
Dulles, VARSVP to [email protected]
Bobby Berk, one of the “Queer Eye” Fab Five, will give the regional unveiling of his new furniture collection Bobby Berk for ART Furniture this weekend at Belfort Furniture in Dulles, Va. He spoke to the Blade Tuesday afternoon by phone from his home in Los Angeles about his designs, his costars, his gal pal Taylor Swift, his Hollywood adventures and a whole lot more.
WASHINGTON BLADE: How’s 2020 been for you so far?
BOBBY BERK: 2020’s been great, very busy. Just wrapped up shooting a podcast a few minutes ago, I’ve got your interview, then I’m running to do a live interview with Channel 9 in Sydney Australia. Been filming some additional shows, been doing a lot of stuff with “Queer Eye,” a lot of great things with my furniture lines, so 2020 already feels like it’s been a full year.
BLADE: Tell us what you’ll be showing at Belfort Furniture this weekend.
BERK: So my new furniture line with ART, it’s great because you know people ask me, fans from the show all the time, you know, “I wish you could decorate my house, I with you could pick out furniture for me,” and obviously I can’t with everyone so I wanted to create a line that was accessible to almost anyone. I think it would have been kind of a dick move of me to talk on “Queer Eye” about how changing your home and help change your life and then go out and make a super expensive furniture line that nobody could afford. So I wanted to make sure I partner with a company like ART who is really good at finding that perfect happy medium on price points to where you’re getting good quality furniture but you’re also getting it at a price point that most people can afford.
BLADE: What was the production timeframe roughly?
BERK: I believe we started the process when I was filming season three and four so that would have been late 2018, I think. … We launched it by spring of 2019 … (which) that was for stores to be able to come look at it like Belfort. Then by the time fall hit, it was in a lot of stores. And now this spring … additional stores are getting it that we weren’t able to fulfill in the very beginning first order. We’re dong 10 in about two months, then we’re going to be launching the second collection as well.
BLADE: How has the reaction been so far?
BERK: It’s been a very great reaction. We have had to stage out when retailers like Belfort start to carry it simply because there was such a great response to it, that we couldn’t open up all the stores that were wanting it. When we launched online, back in the fall, a lot of items instantly went out of stock, so it’s been a really great response. You know, it was a line that inspired by things that I would want in my own home so nice, cool, clean aesthetic that can really go with anyone’s decor. When I design, I always try to make sure I think about the ways a piece can not just look good in a home where people like modern, but also a traditional home. My sofas, for example, can bridge the gap between traditional, transitional and modern.
BLADE: To what degree do you curtail or adjust your creative impulses into something you think will sell? Is there conflict in your own head between art and commerce?
BERK: Uh, yeah, ‘cause for me personally, I would go very minimalist and modern, that’s more of my personal aesthetic, so I would always have to kind of find the happy medium between too modern and cold and still keeping it warm where more people will love it.
BLADE: Are you doing other markets?
BERK: I’ve already done a few in other markets, so Belfort will be my first one in the D.C. area, the only one. We’re very specific about only allowing certain retailers to carry it so we’re not competing against each other. I have another presentation in Orange County next week as well, then an event in Austin, Texas as well. I think it’s next week.
BLADE: How do you have time to keep all this stuff going with the TV show as well?
BERK: I don’t know (chuckles). I’m never home. I’m sadly gone probably 90 percent of the year the last few years so yeah, I’m just constantly on the road.
BLADE: Is this pace sustainable? What if “Queer Eye” goes another 10 years? Will you rip your hair out?
BERK: Uh, probably (laughs). No, this pace absolutely is not sustainable, I think all five of us feel that way but we also know that you know there’s not always a chance that things will be going this well, so we all need to, not take advantage of it, but utilize the recognition we’ve gotten from “Queer Eye” to do other things. Because of course “Queer Eye” could go on for 10 more years or it may go on for one more year. We never know, so we all want to make sure we’ve found those certain things in our wheelhouse that we’re able to continue to focus on. Before “Queer Eye,” I had a design firm and retail stores so, “Queer Eye” has just opened up more doors for me to be able to do more things with that like my collection at ART. So yeah, is this sustainable how much we travel and work? No, it’s not. But all five of us know that we’re not always going to have the amount of opportunities we have right now, so we need to take advantage of all the opportunities that present themselves and then, you know, in five years — I have a four-five year plan of moving to Santa Barbara and having kids and not working as much.
BLADE: On “Queer Eye,” the other guys spend a lot more face time with the heroes because you’re so busy remodeling. Do you ever feel left out?
BERK: Yeah, yeah, you know. With the other boys, they’re part of the show, they’re literally physically with the hero. You know, Jonathan is cutting their hair, Karamo is having a great conversation and helping them with self help, Antoni is teaching them to cook, Tan is helping them with their clothes — they have to physically be there with them whereas what I’m doing the hero can’t actually see, it’s actually against the rules for them to see it, so I’m often kept away from them simply because they’re not able to see what I’m dong and we want to see a surprise. So we have, I’m sure you’ve noticed in newer seasons, I am with the heroes more, but season one and two, I was barely with them at all. When I would be asked by producers if I wanted to go on a shopping trip wth Tan and help with clothes, I’d be like, “No I’m busy, working, that makes no sense,” but then the show came out and it was like, “Oh, I’m so busy working I’m not on the show.” So, newer seasons, I have a bit more interaction with the heroes than in the past.
BLADE: How did you like Japan and what was challenging about taping there?
BERK: I loved Japan, I’ve spent a lot of time in Japan before, it’s one of my favorite places, especially Tokyo. I love it there just because it’s so organized and clean and it’s such a respectable society. Some of the challenges filming there was space. People would sometimes think it’s easier to design a small space than a large space but it’s actually harder, especially in Japan where in rental spaces, you’re not allowed to hang anything on the walls, you’re not allowed to paint, you’re not allowed to do anything to the floors, so we had to get really creative on building functional loft furniture that we were able to make the space look super different than before without even painting or hanging a piece of art on the walls.
BLADE: There’s obvious camaraderie between you and your co-stars. Were you concerned at first whether your personalities would jell? To what do you attribute that camaraderie?
BERK: You know, the five of us from the start in casting, in final casting, there probably was between 40-50 guys around the various different design, fashion, food — what have you, and at first Karamo, Tan and I we just kind of gravitated to each other and were always hanging out. Then Antoni and Jonathan kind of came into the fold and none of us really thought, “Oh this is the Fab Five,” we just kind of naturally liked each other and I think the casting directors and executives from Netflix and Scout and ITV kind of saw that we had a natural chemistry, that we really naturally enjoyed each other and instead of it kind of being a competition, we were always in there telling each other what was going on and helping each other. So I think our camaraderie definitely helps. It’s not always a natural thing, you put five perfect strangers together who are with each other 24-7, but it’s grown definitely into kind of a sibling relationship. We’re brothers, we’re best friends, there are some moments where we want to wring each others necks, but the great thing about it is, we’ve spent so much time together, we really have developed a feeling of a sibling with each other. We can get mad at each other, but at the end of the day, we’re family, we’re brothers so we get over it and we’re very protective of each other. Sometimes it’s easy, most of the time it’s easy, but sometimes it’s hard. But I think that’s the thing with every relationship.
BLADE: Are you going to Karamo’s wedding?
BERK: Of course.
BLADE: You helping with any of the design?
BERK: Uh, a little bit, but I definitely can’t share what he’s shared with me.
BLADE: What did you think of Jonathan’s decision to come out as HIV-positive? Had he shared that with you previously?
BERK: I was the first one that he told even before we started filming “Queer Eye,” he and I both lived in L.A. at the time and so after casting, we became very close very quickly and he was over at my house all the time and he shared it with me even before we started filming, so I’ve known about it for probably a couple years before he publicly came out about it, so it wasn’t a shock to me. I was happy that he had the strength to do that and that he’s able to help other people by being very public about his status.
BLADE: Have you had many chances to get to know the original “Queer Eye” cast?
BERK: Yeah, I was actually out with them all of them in L.A. two weeks ago. I’ve known Thom Filicia for years, again, before I was on “Queer Eye” as a designer, I really am a designer, so he and I have been in the same industry, we’re always at the same events, we’re always at the same trade shows. And then Carson (Kressley), I’ve known for years. All the others I had met throughout the years, but I’m definitely closest to Thom simply because we’re in the same industry and we’ve known each other so long. But they’re all so amazing, they’re all so lovely, it’s amazing hanging out with them and seeing just how individually unique they all are, just like the five of us are, and how no matter how many years they’ve been apart since the original, when they get together, it’s like they’ve never skipped a beat, it’s cute.
BLADE: So you’d be totally down to do a crossover special of some kind?
BERK: Oh absolutely.
BLADE: Do you like Thom’s design aesthetic? (Filicia, too, has presented at Belfort Furniture.)
BERK: I think it’s beautiful. I think we have a very different design aesthetic. He’s definitely more transitional and traditional, I’m definitely more modern and minimalist, although I would say that both him and I design for the client or for the home. So where my home is very minimal and there’s not a whole lot of stuff in it, for heroes on “Queer Eye,” I can be maximalist for people who want a lot of stuff. So his personal aesthetic is beautiful, he’s done some amazing homes, some amazing condo buildings. But yeah, I love it.
BLADE: Did it bother you that Taylor Swift was, some would argue, rather late to the game in terms of being an LGBT ally?
BERK: You know, of course we always wish somebody would be vocal from day one but I also can very much understand the pressure that she’s been through being basically owned by a record label and being told by a publicist and record labels what you need to say and shouldn’t say, what you shouldn’t get involved in. You know as quote-unquote celebrities, we’re always told, “Oh be as neutral as possible, you don’t wanna offend people on the left or the right, stay out of politics, stay out of issues,” which some of us find much easier than others. You know, I often get myself in trouble because I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut. Jonathan’s the same way and so I can understand why she felt pressured to not be an ally, to not get involved publicly, you know what I mean? … I don’t hold it against her, all I can do is be as very happy that she is using her power to make a difference now and I couldn’t love her more. She’s one of the most sweet, humble, down-to-earth people I’ve met. … You never really know what to expect when you meet somebody like her because a lot of people I’ve met in Hollywood and entertainment come across as one thing and then you meet them in person and they are not at all that thing and it can be very sad and disappointing, so it was a great feeling when I got to meet her and hang out with her and realize that she really is what she portrays out there, she really is this sweet, loving girl who just wants to make the world a better place.
BLADE: Who’s somebody you met who’s markedly different from his or her public persona?
BERK: Hmmm, so yes. So RuPaul, I actually met in 2003, I was a manager at Restoration Hardware in New York and she came in looking for some knobs for some dresser she was doing and he was just the kindest, sweetest most lovely person and then after I had my own stores, he started coming in and shopping in my stores and he would come in and just the sweetest, warmest person. And again, on the show he’s the same way and I’m not saying that he’s not sweet and warm, but one thing I was surprised about when I see him for example at the Emmys, the first time I saw him at the Emmys, he wasn’t very warm, and I was like, “Huh, fame has changed him.” But our publicist at Netflix used to work on “Drag Race,” so he’s very close to Ru, he knows Ru very well, and I mentioned it to him I was like, “Wow, you know, I’ve met Ru multiple times and he’s always like the sweetest, kindest person, I don’t get that from him anymore.” He was like, “No, he just doesn’t like being in the spotlight at events like this so he gets very shy and quiet,” so sometimes you think somebody is some way and they’re not and like. … I thought Ru had gotten cold, ‘cause this industry can do it to you, but then I find out that no, Ru is just as shy and terrified as the rest of us.
BLADE: What was it like filming (Taylor Swift’s) “You Need to Calm Down” video? Surely all those celeb cameos — you were not all there at the same time I imagine?
BERK: All of us were but Tan. He was filming the season finale of “Next in Fashion” that day, so Jonathan and I went from watching the runway show of Tan’s finale directly to Taylor’s set and we met Antoni and Karamo there, so four of us were there together but Tan filmed his separately.
BLADE: Was Ellen or Adam Rippon or any of those people there that day?
BERK: Adam was there, he and I are actually friends. Hannah Hart was there, um — who else was there that day? They’re the only ones I remember being directly around us. The set was so massive and they filmed it over I think a week, so different celebs would come in at different times. Some would film in a studio in front of a green screen, for example Tan’s was shot in a studio, so yeah, we weren’t always there at the same time, that would have been chaos. Oh Todrick Hall was there as well.
BLADE: How is (husband) Dewey? Do you guys get enough time together?
BERK: No, we never get enough time together. He is definitely a very private, very introverted, shy guy. He couldn’t care less about any of the Hollywood stuff, which is actually great. I actually prefer it that way because when I’m at home, I’m back in my normal life. But yeah, no, we can never get enough time together. He’s a surgeon. We’ve been together for 16 years and since “Queer Eye,” he’s just started working less. He’s in private practice, so luckily he’s been able to take a step back a little back. He usually only works about two days a week then meets me wherever I’m filming.
BLADE: Do you know Nate Berkus? Do you like his stuff?
BERK: I love Nate Berkus. His stuff is great. Both he and Jeremiah. Their taste is impeccable, they’re handsome as hell, they’re the best dads. Yeah, I like them a lot.
BLADE: Do you miss your anonymity?
BERK: Absolutely (laughs).
BLADE: Give me an example.
BERK: I miss just being able to go to the grocery store. Or to Starbucks. You know, I miss being able to just roam around and just do regular things. There’s so many positive things about this and I’m not complaining about the loss of it at all, but, you know, sometimes I wish I could just go to the grocery store and go through all the fruit and shop around but I can’t really do that without getting stopped over and over, so I just pretty much order everything online. Sometimes I’ll go into a Starbucks and a fan will be there and there’ll be a moment of the show that’s really touched them or helped somebody in their family, so they’ll start telling me a story in Starbucks and then be crying, then I’ll be standing there in line holding them and hugging them thinking in my mind, “Oh this is amazing, this is so wonderful, but I really just wanted to get my coffee.” You know, it’s a double-edged sword. Sometimes I wish I could just run in, run out like I used to be able to.
BLADE: Please don’t think I’m asking this because I think you look fat — I truly do not. This is just something I’ve been meaning to ask someone who’s done a lot of TV. Does the camera add 10 pounds?
BERK: The camera adds 10 pounds of gay (laughs). Um, sometimes, yeah. But also when I started filming season five I was 210 pounds and now I’m like 183 so I went from being in very good shape before the show, to putting on a bit of weight during the show because our lives have just been so crazy to now really doubling down and focusing on fitness and not letting myself eat crap on set all the time and not work out.
BLADE: What did you mean 10 pounds of gay? Are gestures magnified?
BERK: Oh yeah, I’m always like, “Damn, do I sound that gay?” Yeah, and I also think it’s because the five of us together, we’re so comfortable together and able to be our true selves that sometimes we really queen out and not give a damn. It’s funny watching yourself.
BLADE: Was it hard to summon the courage to be so open about your past? Leaving home at 15 and all that.
BERK: It was hard because, you know, for quite a few years, I didn’t have a good relationship with my parents …
BLADE: It’s better now?
BERK: Oh yeah, it’s great now. But that’s why it’s a little hard because publicly talking about it, you know, it definitely made my mom sad, it definitely opened up old wounds, it took me a while to be OK talking about it. Sometimes I’m still not OK. Sometimes I’ll get asked about my relationship with my parents in interviews, not in this, but people will really pry and they’ll be like, “Oh well you know, on the show you talked about how horrible they were to you and blah blah blah blah blah, why are you talking to them now?” I’m just like whoah — if I’m able to say I’ve been able to reconcile with my family and we have a good relationship now, why would you try to open those wounds? Why would you try to hurt my mama?
BLADE: Thanks for your time and good luck with your line.
BERK: Thanks!

a&e features
Yes, chef!
From military service in Syria to cooking in coastal Delaware, Justin Fritz delivers comfort and connection
Driving down the long stretch of road that connects Rehoboth to Bethany Beach, I’m thinking about the morning ahead of me. I’ve done tough jobs before on subjects I knew nothing about. But when it comes to this assignment – profiling a local chef – I can’t help but worry that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
I eat food. I love food. Ironically, I can’t cook.
Sure, I can make a passable meal in a pinch, but when it comes to innate culinary skills, I don’t have the gene. That means I eat out often. Even when the food is good, the experience is rarely inspiring. I have no doubt that the guy I’m about to profile can cook, but for me, food is fuel, not fun. Writing about eating feels like reading about dancing. You can understand the mechanics, but the magic is harder to capture.
Sooner than I expected, I reach my destination. Rising quietly from the dunes, the weathered cedar shingles and wraparound porch of The Addy Sea Inn gives off the kind of understated confidence money can’t buy. Built in 1904, it doesn’t try to impress you. It just does. I pull into a gravel parking space, step out of the car, and take a breath. Already, I sense that I’ve misjudged what this morning will be.
Inside, breakfast service has just wrapped, but the dining room is still humming with energy. Plates clink. Fresh coffee is brewing. After a quick round of introductions with the staff, I’m ushered back to the kitchen, where Executive Chef Justin Fritz is waiting.
The room is modest, only slightly larger than my kitchen at home, anchored by a narrow stainless-steel island that serves as the operational center. Whatever the kitchen lacks in space it makes up for in technology. The appliances are state-of-the-art and the multi-tiered glass oven on the wall looks smarter than I am.
There’s no brigade of line cooks. No shouted orders. No “Hands” or “Yes, chef!” echoing off the walls. There’s just me and him. It’s a one-man show.
His first wedding tasting is less than an hour away, but instead of rushing, Justin offers me the grand tour. Pride radiates from him — not ego, but something quieter. We move through the inn, past guests and staff he greets by name, out onto a porch overlooking the beach and Atlantic, where meticulously planned weddings unfold like carefully choreographed dreams.
“This whole place transforms,” he says, gesturing toward the lawn. “We pitch a 90-foot tent in a yard that can accommodate 150 guests. We set the DJ and the bar up in the back on a floating deck that becomes a dance floor.”
On our way back inside, we stop to see herbs growing in a double row of hanging planters — mint, basil, strawberries trailing down the wall like decorations you can eat. It’s not performative. It’s practical. Everything here has a purpose.
Back in the kitchen, the tempo shifts. There are no printed-out recipes or neatly arranged mise en place. Justin stops talking just long enough to consult the whiteboard hanging on his refrigerator. There are notes – words, not sentences – cueing him on all the things he needs to remember.
When he finally goes into action, it’s intense, but controlled. Justin knows every inch of his kitchen and moves efficiently to gather what he needs to get five different entrees into the oven. I try to be a fly on the wall, but I’m the elephant in the room. I try, and fail, to move out of his way.
After our fifth near-collision, he laughs. “You just stay there,” he says. “I’ll move around you.” And he does.
Justin’s path to The Addy Sea Inn wasn’t linear, and in many ways, that’s what defines him. After culinary school and early professional success, he made a decision that shifted everything: He enlisted in the Army Reserves alongside his younger brother. In an unexpected twist, Justin completed the enlistment process first, while his brother’s path was delayed pending a medical waiver.
Initially, Justin’s role had nothing to do with food. He worked as a computer technician, repairing advanced equipment — a technical, methodical position that stood in stark contrast to the creative environment of a kitchen. Then, as often happens in Justin’s stories, his circumstances changed. A casual conversation with a commanding officer one afternoon led to a sudden reassignment.
“He said, ‘You’re supposed to be at the range. Get in the car — I’ll explain on the way.’” Justin recalls. “Next thing I know, I’m deploying.”
The destination was Syria. And instead of working with electronics, he found himself back in a kitchen — only this time, under conditions that redefined what cooking meant.
“They didn’t want military cooking,” he says. “They wanted home cooking.”
That expectation, simple on the surface, became extraordinarily complex in practice. Ingredients had to be sourced from local markets where quality and safety were inconsistent. Refrigeration was limited. Water couldn’t be trusted. Meat arrived butchered in ways that required improvisation rather than precision.

“One time I ordered lamb,” he says. “It came back as bones. Just bones. I scraped the meat off and turned it into sausage because I couldn’t waste it.”
So, Justin adapted. He baked bread from scratch, created meals that could be eaten days later, and found ways to bring a sense of normalcy into an environment defined by uncertainty. French toast, burritos, pretzels, tiramisu — dishes that, under different circumstances, might have felt routine became something else entirely.
“I think people underestimate what food means,” he says. “It’s not just eating. It’s memory. It’s comfort. It’s safety.”
That last word lingers.
By the time Justin arrived at The Addy Sea Inn, he carried more than just professional experience. He brought discipline, resilience, and a perspective shaped by environments far removed from coastal Delaware. But he also brought uncertainty.
The new role required something different from what he’d done before. Here, he wasn’t executing someone else’s vision — he was responsible for creating one.
“I realized I get to do this,” he says. “I get to build this.”
What he has built is both ambitious and carefully controlled. Under new ownership and with a growing team, The Addy Sea Inn has evolved into a sought-after destination for weddings and events. The scale has increased, but the operation remains intentionally lean, which puts more pressure on Justin to deliver.
A single day might include breakfast service, take-away lunch preparation, afternoon tea, wedding tastings, and a full-scale event execution. Layered on top of that are cooking classes, early-stage digital content, and a catering business Justin has deliberately paused so he can focus on something more cohesive.
“I want to grow the culinary side of this place,” he says. “Not just more events, but better experiences. Classes, tastings — things that bring people into it. I love teaching. I love sharing it.”
It’s a vision rooted less in expansion and more in depth. Not more for the sake of more, but more meaningfully.
When I return a few days later for breakfast service, the experience feels both familiar and entirely new.
The day begins with sunrise. Before anything else, Justin pauses and brings his team outside. It isn’t a long break, and it isn’t framed as anything formal. It’s simply a moment — watching the light shift over the water, occasionally catching sight of dolphins moving just beyond the shoreline.
Then, without ceremony, the work begins.
Eggs crack. Bacon sizzles, potato pancakes bake on the grill. Orders move in and out with steady consistency. There’s no frantic energy, no sense of scrambling to keep up. Instead, there’s a flow — continuous, measured, almost meditative.
“It doesn’t always feel like work,” he says.
Watching him move through the morning, it’s easy to understand why.
Hours later, after the hustle and bustle of the first meal has ended, Justin turns his attention to a larger, albeit more creative task — cupcakes for two themed parties. Already inspired, he lifts a heavy electric mixer onto the counter and pushes a flour-dusted binder in front of me.
“I’ll bake the cupcakes. You make the butter-cream frosting,” he says, flipping to the page with the recipe. “Double it.”
The request sends me into a mild panic, especially since it requires math. But Justin believes I can do it. To my surprise, so do I. The first batch of chocolate cupcakes are already out of the oven before I finish the first bowl of frosting. Since all I have to do is repeat the process, I’m starting to feel relieved and maybe even a little cocky. That’s when it hits me.
“Chef, I made a mistake…I forgot to double the amount of vanilla. I need to do it over.”
“It’s fine,” Justin says casually, swiping a small disposable plastic spoon across the silky surface. “It tastes great. Focus on the next batch.”
The result, two exquisitely decorated cupcakes, are almost too pretty to eat.
“These are yours to take home,” he says as he carefully packs them away in a to-go box.
I start to protest, to tell him he should save the best for himself or the other guests. But I stop myself and pause and savor the moment. This one, I keep.
Chef Justin Fritz resists easy categorization, and that may be part of what makes him so compelling. He is classically trained, but without pretense. His military background suggests rigidity, yet his approach is flexible and intuitive. He carries himself with a quiet confidence, never needing to announce it. Part Jason Bourne, part Willy Wonka. Justin isn’t just cooking food, he’s making magic.
By the time I leave, my understanding of the assignment has shifted. What I expected to be a story about food has become something broader, more nuanced. It’s about care. About connection.
That sense of purpose extends beyond the kitchen. When I ask Justin what’s next, he speaks not just about growth and ambition, but about balance — about building a life that allows space for both. There’s a quiet acknowledgment of Cheyenne, his partner of five years, woven into that answer. Not as a headline, but as something steady and grounding, part of how he measures what comes next.
I arrived thinking I would write about a chef. What I found instead was someone who uses food as a language — a way to communicate, to connect, and to create something that stays with you.
The only way to experience Chef Justin’s cooking is to step inside his world — by checking into The Addy Sea Inn (www.addysea.com) or securing a ticket to one of the inn’s limited public events, including the Spring Soirée and the Toys for Tots Holiday Fundraiser. There’s no standalone restaurant, no reservation to book online. His food exists within the rhythm of the inn itself.
In louder, larger kitchens, “Yes, chef!” is a command — sharp, immediate, unquestioned.
But here, at the edge of the ocean, it lands differently.
Not as an order.
As trust.
And maybe that’s the real story — not the food, not the title, but the quiet, deliberate way Chef Justin Fritz makes people feel something they don’t forget.

a&e features
Memorial for groundbreaking bisexual activist set for May 2
Loraine Hutchins remembered as a ‘force of nature’
The Montgomery County Pride Center will host a celebration honoring the life and legacy of Loraine Hutchins, Ph.D., on May 2. People are invited to attend the onsite memorial or a livestream event. The on-site event will begin at 10 a.m. with a meet-and-greet mixer before moving into a memorial service around the theme “Loraine a Force of Nature!” at 11 a.m., a panel talk at 12 p.m., break out sessions for artists, academics, and activists to build on her legacy at 1 p.m. and a closing reception at 2 p.m.
Attendees are encouraged to register for the on-site memorial gathering or the livestreamed memorial. The goal of this event is also to collect stories and memories of Loraine. Attendees and others can share their stories at padlet.com.
An obituary for Hutchins was published in the Bladelast Nov. 24, where people can learn more about her activism in the bisexual community. A private service for friends and family was held in December but this memorial service is open to all.
Alongside her groundbreaking work organizing for U.S. bisexual rights and liberation including co-editing “Bi Any Other Name: BIsexual People Speak Out” (1991), she also integrated faith into her sexual education and advocacy work. Her 2001 doctoral dissertation, “Erotic Rites: A Cultural Analysis of Contemporary U.S. Sacred Sexuality Traditions and Trends,” offered a pointed queer and feminist analysis to sex-neutral and sex-positive spiritual traditions in the United States. Her thesis was also groundbreaking in exploring the intersections between sex workers and those in caregiving professionals, including spiritual ones.
In an oral history interview conducted by Michelle Mueller back in August 2023, Hutchins described herself as a “priestess without a congregation.” While she has occasionally had a sense of community and feels part of a group of loving people, she admitted that “I don’t feel like we have the shape or the purpose that we need.”
“I’ve often experienced being the Cassandra in the room, the Cassandra in the community. Somebody who’s kind of way out there ahead, thinking through the strategic action points that my community hasn’t gotten to yet, and getting a lot of resistance and hostile responses from people who are frightened by dissent and conflict and not ready for the changes we have to make to survive,” she said.
“For somebody who’s bisexual in an out political way and who’s been a spokesperson for the polyamory movement in an out political way, it’s very exposing. And it’s very important to me to be able to try to explain and help other people understand the connection between spirituality and sexuality,” she explained citing how even as a graduate student she was “exploring how to feel erotic and spiritual, and not feel them in conflict with each other in my own spiritual contemplative life and my own sensual body awareness of being alive in the world.”
“Every religion has a sense of sacred sexuality. It’s just they put a lot of boundaries and regulations on it, and if we have a spiritual practice that is totally affirming of women’s priesthood and of gay people, queer people’s ability to minister to everyone and to be ministered to be everyone, what does that do to the gender of God, or our understanding of how we practice our spirituality and our sexuality in community and privately?”
“There’s no easy answer,” she concludes, and she continued to grapple with these questions throughout her life, co-editing another seminal text, “Sexuality, Religion and the Sacred: Bisexual, Pansexual, and Polysexual Perspectives,” published in 2012. Her work blending spiritual and queer liberation remains groundbreaking to this day.
Rev. Eric Eldritch, a local community organizer and ordained Pagan minister with Circle Sanctuary who has worked for decades with the DC Center’s Center Faith to organize the Pride Interfaith Service, is eager to highlight this element of her legacy at the memorial service next month.
a&e features
Queery: Meet artist, performer John Levengood
Modern creative talks nightlife, coming out, and his personal queer heroes
John Levengood (he/him) describes himself as a modern creative with a wide‑ranging toolkit. He blends music, technology, civic duty, and a sharp sense of wit into a cohesive artistic identity. Known primarily as a recording artist and performer, he’s also a self‑taught music producer and software engineer who embodies a generation of creators who build their own lanes rather than wait for one to appear.
Levengood, 32, who is single and identifies as gay and queer, is best known as a recording artist who has performed at Pride festivals across the country, including the main stages of World Pride DC, Central Arkansas Pride, and Charlotte Pride.
“Locally in the DMV, I’m known for turning heads at nightlife venues with my eye-catching sense of style. When I go out, I don’t try to blend in. I hope I inspire people to be themselves and have the courage to stand out,” he says.
He’s also known for hosting karaoke at Freddie’s Beach Bar in Arlington, Va., on Thursday nights. “I like to create a space where people feel comfortable expressing themselves, building community, and showcasing their talents.”
He also creates social media content from my performances and do interviews at LGBTQ+ bars and theatres in the DMV. Follow the Arlington resident @johnlevengood.
How long have you been out and who was the hardest person to tell?
I have been fully out of the closet since 2019. My parents were the hardest people to tell because my family has always been my rock and at the time I couldn’t imagine a world without them. Their reactions were extremely positive and supportive so I had nothing to fear all along.
I remember sitting on the couch with my mom, dad, and sister in our hotel room in New Orleans during our winter vacation and being so nervous to tell them. After I finally mustered up the nerve and made the proclamation, I realized my dad had already fallen asleep on the couch. My mom promised to tell him when he woke up.
Who’s your LGBTQ hero?
My LGBTQ heroes are Harvey Milk for paving the way for gays in politics and Elton John for being a pioneer for the fabulous and authentic. My local heroes in the DMV are Howard Hicks, manager of Green Lantern, and Tony Rivenbark, manager of Freddie’s Beach Bar. Both of them are essential to creating spaces where I’ve felt welcome and safe since moving to the DMV.
What’s Washington’s best nightspot, past or present?
Trade tops the list for me because of the dance floor and outdoor space. It’s so nice to get a break from the music every once and a while to be able to have a conversation.
We live in challenging times. How do you cope?
I’m still figuring this out. What is working right now is writing music and spending time with family and friends. I’ve also been spending less time on social media going to the gym at least three times a week.
What streaming show are you binging?
After “Traitors” Season 4 ended, I was in a bit of a show hole, but “Stumble” has me in a laughing loop right now. The writing is so witty.
What do you wish you’d known at 18?
At 18, I wish I would have known how liberating it is to come out of the closet. It would have been nice to know some winning lottery numbers as well.
What are your friends messaging about in your most recent group chat?
We are planning our next trip to New York City. If you can believe it, I visited NYC for the first time in 2025 for Pride and I’ve been back every quarter since. Growing up in the country, I was subconsciously primed to be scared of the city. But my mind has been blown. I can’t wait to go back.
Why Washington?
It’s the closest metropolitan area to my family, but not too close. I love the museums, the diversity, the history, and the proximity to the beach and mountains. It’s also nice to live in a city with public transportation.
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