I once again pushed the boundaries of formalwear physics this month. Limb placement is a lowkey suggestion in a ballgown — and what better place to test minor acrobatic miracles than at Grace Cathedral?
It was the annual Carnivale gala, otherwise known as San Francisco’s most glamorous reason to get drunk in a church. I sat for dinner on March 4th among a cohort that felt immediately familiar; Not in the we grew up together way, but in the we survived another year in journalism way. We traded hot takes on uppity columnists, great parties, and how to write about rich people without getting blacklisted.
Carnivale blessed me with good gossipers and genuine connection for two years running. Here is a community that welcomes you in regardless of spiritual background; also one that never wastes good lighting. And it’s why I ended up lingering long after the music stopped with people who felt like old friends.
That night I found my Unholy Trinity of ladies with nothing but hot tea and a shared history of deadlines, rent hikes, and well-timed career choices — Immediately we organized a new media summit:
I also met Rev. Miguel Bustos, a gay Archdeacon who told me Grace Cathedral held funerals in the AIDS crisis when other churches turned them away. It turns out they held up to 35 funerals a week — a week. This shares a sentiment I anecdotally remember hearing about the Black and LGBTQ+ communities and San Francisco in 1980s and 90s: When few others would help, we found each other.
“Church shouldn’t just be a place for solemn religious events — it’s a place for community to break bread together,” Bustos said.
Carbs are verboten among many gay peers and those in corsets — so no bread — but I’ll say this about Carnivale fashion: It ate. This year was masquerade themed, because sometimes the best way to be seen is from behind a mask.
Maya Dinapoli
Dinapoli looked radiant in archive 2020 Monique Lhullier, the famous LA bridal designer that Maya name dropped casually — like that one time I stumbled across an $18,000 Carolina Herrera. Sometimes a gown so eye catching shows up that I want to pull a Tonya Harding and take them out of the competition; That’s also my highest compliment.
Kate Tova
Kate and I bonded four years ago over sequins, jewels, tulle, and Christian Siriano. She has all the glamour of a Vogue muse who somehow also goes viral on Instagram, and none of the ego. In 2025, she glided in Carnivale in pink layers and a flower crown statement headpiece. Her designs are self-inspired and made — I take it — by her and a team of peers. And gorgeous, obviously; You have eyes, right?
Dr. Joy-Leilani Garbutt
Joy walked in wearing a power suit that could outshine the floral section at the SF Flower Mart — a riot of red peonies, blue roses, and golden tulips, blooming across crisp white fabric like a couture garden party in motion. From my vague memory — forgive me, Joy — she said this was something special to wear for her recent wedding. I could not get over the shoes: Sparkle pointy stilettos stolen straight from Dorothy Gale’s secret couture closet in Kansas. It reminds me to go grab the Mary Jane platform versions still on sale in the annex of Cliff’s Variety in Castro.
Edicar Atukwase
Well, I just met Edicar at this year’s ballet opening gala. Her gown was equal parts couture and optical illusion with diamond-embellished details all over. The high neckline kept things regal, the thigh-high slit kept things scandalous, and together, the look said, “Yes, I am the moment.”
The best parties will make me momentarily lapse from their charitable causes. Carnivale raked in more than $1 million this year for Grace Cathedral’s worship services and spiritual programs, social justice initiatives, and the Artist in Residence program, this year supporting Mason Bates — who I know locally for blending classical music with electronic elements under his nonprofit, Mercury Soul.
It’s also the second year I saw them bring in entertainment by the Chris Clouse Project, which uses live vocals, guitar, violin, and DJing to make a very Bridgerton meets Coachella vibe — but in a wedding chapel.
For me though: The photos alone were worth the price of admission.
Photobooths are no new thing, but something about The Vanity Portrait Studio combines all the overdramatized Glamour Shots in a 1990s mall with the editorial precision of a Vogue cover shoot and the instant gratification of a perfectly lit selfie.
The project began in San Francisco by Colson Griffith, and has since expanded locations to give guests magazine-inspired portraits that make them look like the most important person at the party — because, for 30 seconds, they absolutely are. It took more like an hour to hit up both booths and drain out all my dancing time, but the results were absolutely worth the wait.
The official gala may have ended, but, as always, a new plan emerged before I even had time to reconsider my life choices. After a final pass through the dance floor, I found myself swept up with a woman with an indiscernible European accent and her friend, who had just come back from a music festival in San Diego and was — by all accounts — completely high.
Where were we going? Zeki’s.
Which, as it turns out, is a completely normal bar. A bar for normal people in normal clothing, sipping beers and idly chatting, while we walked in looking like we had just fled a Versailles reenactment gone terribly wrong.
At first, we considered pivoting to literally anywhere else, but something about the absurdity of it felt like the perfect ending to the night. So we stayed — drinking well whiskey in couture, making new friends, and deciding that maybe the real after-party was the normies we confused along the way.
Saul Sugarman is editor in chief of The Bold Italic.
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More photos of Grace Cathedral Gala 2025
All photos by Drew Altizer Photography.
