You see before you the inaugural installment for The Youth Issue. Pretty exciting, no?

When planning out the issue, we had a bit of struggle deciding how to start it off. Then we realized there's really no better choice than legendary homo-journo, Michael Musto (pictured, circa 1964). He's been snarking it up since before we even knew the meaning, targeting closeted celebrities long before Perez Hilton and generally being fabulous for more years than we can count (but, to be fair, we can't count above seven).

In celebration of the publication of his new retrospective collection, La Dolce Musto, editor Andrew Belonsky and Musto got all cozy like at New York City's B Bar for a little post-work heart-to-heart. If ever there were a conversation to read, this is it - seriously, it's got more delicious bits than an Equinox gym.

Such as? Well, such as Musto's remembrance of ACT UP, a particularly memorable Michael Alig party and his explanation of why Joan Crawford's a total liar.

Andrew Belonsky: The most obvious place to start of course is childhood.

Michael Musto: First of all, I’m the only Italian American only child, except for Frank DeCaro from Sirius radio. We’ve decided that we are it – every other Italian American child has many, many siblings and I still don’t know why that didn’t happen for me. But I didn’t even have imaginary friends. I lived a totally internal life. There was no speaking in my house. My parents didn’t speak to each other, which actually helped me as a writer, because I was forced to go inward and develop some kind of communication process that involved writing. I would go by myself to movies. I’d write little reviews on index cards. I actually wrote a full-length play when I six-years old.

AB: What was it about?

MM: It was about an unhappily married couple. Big surprise. You write what you know. All my favorite movies are about adulterer and these fantasies of men leaving their horrible wives behind.

AB: You don’t get on well with your mother?

MM: We do. We’ve finally come to piece peace. And they’re wonderful people. They mean well. And not just the way Hitler thought he meant well…

AB: How did that reconciliation come about?

MM: We all just lived long enough that we were forced to work out our issues. If you just hang in there long enough - and apparently they will just not die, nor will I – you come to some mutual understanding.

AB: When did you start to break out of yourself?

MM: In school I was shell-shocked. I was terrified of speaking. I had never spoken before, so I would hide in a corner. But I did flourish through the homework and the schoolwork. I totally focused on it and wanted to be validated by someone, mainly the teachers, so I did very well. I was a perfect student. And then when I started getting involved in school activities, I became more popular and more out-going. I was the features editor of the school paper in high school. I was the star in all the shows. And really had my finger in every pot. I wanted to get involved in every possible activity, because I was longing for anyone to pat me on the back and say, “We need you”. So, that made me popular, but once I got to a new school – I went to Columbia College – the whole process started over again. The first two years I was shell-shocked – wouldn’t talk to anybody, but then I got involved in activities and became popular again.

AB: Do you ever miss [acting]?

MM: No, because part of my job involves performing. I get to go on TV. That’s like being an actor, but I’m playing myself.

AB: Are there two Michael Mustos? Is there the home version and the public persona?

MM: Yeah, but I feel that the performance based one is the real one. Everyone assumes, “Oh, that’s your phony act”, but that’s the real me that I’m courageous enough to tap into when there’s a camera on. Everyone thinks, “Oh, you’re a whore because you come alive in front of a camera.” If anything, the camera forces me to tap into myself and dig out the real me, who is fun and flamboyant. The Cinderella, chimney-sweep character is not the real me, but that’s the one I play all day.

AB: At work?

MM: Yeah. I’m terrified of people. Obviously I’ve punished myself by giving myself this job of social columnist. I force myself to go out into crowds every night. It’s almost like self-torture.

AB: It hasn’t gotten easier?

MM: No. It’s easier once people know me and they know who I am and they respond to me, but – um – every night you’re starting afresh with a whole new crowd, so it can be very scary for me.

AB: But certainly you have one of the most recognizable faces in New York.

MM: Both of them. But, yeah, if people respond to me – [this is] the thing I learned in school: if you’re popular in the activities…people respond to you. Otherwise, I’ve found - in the gay world especially - nobody responds to you if you’re not great looking or have an out-going personality. I had neither. So, I had to get better response by achievement, which is actually a good thing, because looks fade and it’s something you’re born with, anyway. I had to develop something to get a response from people.

AB: Do you remember the first time you went out to a gay bar?

MM: Yes. I was in college. First of all, I was the youngest one in my whole class, because I skipped grades and was born in December – so I was seventeen or eighteen when I went to a Columbia gay mixer at a nightclub, but I kind of was convincing myself that this didn’t mean I was gay. I was just kind of going to a gay mixer because I knew people who were gay. But the best thing that every happened to me was this out-going, flaming queen named Bruce dragged me by the hand at the party and said, “Look, everybody, here’s the latest member of the Columbia gay community: Michael Musto.” I was horrified and thought everybody would just start pointing and laughing, but they just kind of rolled their eyes and said, “Duh”.

It was a wonderful outing for me, because there was no turning back after that. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t gay. Everyone knew. I knew. And maybe that’s why I out celebrities now; I’m dragging them out, saying, “Look everybody… the latest member of the gay community is Anderson Cooper.” But they’re not as thrilled as I was…

AB: How’d your parents take it?

MM: They still don’t know. [Laughs] I could suck my father’s dick in front of my mother and she still wouldn’t know. But there’s a tacit understanding – we know, but please don’t dwell on it, but they’ve been to my parties. Obviously everyone there is gay. My father has flirted with Amanda Lepore openly, so there’s a little bit of them enjoying the whole gay lifestyle.

AB: How do you feel about New York then as opposed to now? Obviously there have been a lot of changes, gentrification, blah, blah, blah. But do you still find it to be a vibrant city?

MM: I do. I find the most deadly thing for me, as a columnist would be if I only looked back and thought things were always better. Of course things were better when you were younger, everything was fresher to you and there were fewer restrictions on nightlife in New York. New York was a place for struggling artists and creative people who could afford to live here, but nightlife is always a rebellion against the repression, so the more you push it down, the more it bounces up. There’s still vibrant nightlife and there are still struggling artists, they’re just in the boroughs.

AB: Is there a favorite nightlife experience that sticks out?

MM: I don’t know if there’s a favorite, but there were things that are hard to wipe out of your memory, like Michael Alig used to throw Disco 2000 at Limelight every Wednesday and he would have an “unnatural ax review” which is unlike anything Cirque du Soleil could ever dream of: one night a guy named “Woody, The Dancing Amputee” hobbled on stage and his wooden stump fell off and this crazed girl on ecstasy came running up and fucked his stump on stage. Ah, the memories...

AB: How did you get involved in ACT UP?

MM: It was superficial, like almost everything else I’ve ever done. A cute guy came up to Michelangelo Signorile and me and said, “Oh there’s this new thing called ACT UP, you should come to a meeting”. We went because he was hot.

AB: What kept you there?

MM: The second I walked into the room, I was just amazed by the energy. By this point – living in New York during the first AIDS “wave” was like a science fiction movie. It was horrifying. If you weren’t there, you can’t imagine what it was like. Everyday you were getting calls about “Did you hear so-and-so has AIDS and that one died oh and guess who else has AIDS”.

As this horror was mounting, you were filled with terror for yourself, filled with grief and mourning and you were horrified that the government wasn’t addressing the issue. Reagan wouldn’t even say the word AIDS for eight years. When I saw that the gay community had mobilized into this incredibly effective group of people who were going to do something about it by channeling their rage into action, it was so inspiring. You just sat there sobbing. It was like, “Wow, this is history in the making.” It really did revitalize the entire gay community and help us to survive.

AB: What do you think happened to that energy?

MM: First of all [you] can’t keep that level of rage for that long because you’d just explode. Also there’s the delusion that AIDS is more manageable and it’s not what it used to be. Meanwhile, the numbers are way bigger than they used to be and it seems more like a global pandemic than ever. People became more complacent. You can’t live with that level of horror for that long. Denial eventually sets in. And new generations came up who didn’t want to deal with it. You don’t want to come of age hormonally and have to deal with that stuff.

AB: Do you think they didn’t want to deal with it – I mean, I’m sure that’s part of it – but do you think it’s more that it just wasn’t in their faces?

MM: Young people always feel invulnerable, “Oh, it can’t happen to me”. And along came the new developments like the cocktail and everyone thought, “Well, even if it does happen to me, it’s manageable. It’s so long down the road that I’ll just deal with it; it’s just like having a cold.” It’s not.

AB: Do you see a gap between generations? Socially?

MM: I do. Gay people more than anybody. Or, gay people that go out seem much more afraid of their own mortality than anybody else – not because of AIDS, just because sometimes they’re more superficially into looks, so they resent old people: they remind them of mortality. But that’s why – Susanne Bartsch is still throwing parties every Tuesday night at room service. She mixes it up [with] Kenny Kenny, her co-host. And there’s a whole new generation of freaks who don’t mind mixing with the old and learning, sharing… It’s an inspiring thing. Most of my friends are younger, so I still feel like an arrested child, in a way.

AB: Let’s go back to the college years. Want to talk about your first time having sex?

MM: That was after college. I mean, I fended off a few opportunities, because I was too nervous and skiddish and didn’t know what to do and then after college this guy that I met kept hitting on me and I kept resisting and then I finally gave in and it was fine.

AB: Did you end up dating him?

MM: I wouldn’t say, “dating”, but he was a fuck buddy now and then.

AB: Did you think [blogs would] be so big?

MM: No. Somebody alerted me to blogs when they started and I thought, “Oh, this is interesting. It’s fresh energy.” You didn’t think much would come of it. But, then again, I didn’t think that Madonna would make it, so I’m the worst one to ask what the next trend is going to be… You found yourself addicted to them and clicking on them every five minutes and it became clear that everyone else was doing the same thing. It became a phenomenon. It really shook up the print media, which needed a shaking up, because print is dying. It helped them stay afloat in a way – it pushed them to go for more shocking, scandalous topics and be less squeamish about celebrity’s sexuality and just to be bolder and not be so polite, as they were doing. Print gossip was becoming obsolete, because it was just becoming press releases.

AB: Do you think that print media is going to survive?

MM: I do. When TV came around, they said radio was going to go away and it really didn’t – it just had to reinvent itself and I think that’s what will happen with print media. I think print media will downscale. It is as we speak. Everything is getting smaller and smaller. There will be five or ten people putting out the major publications and that’s unfortunate.

AB: If you could trade to be permanently on television and not write another column, would you?

MM: Yes, I would.

AB: Really?

MM: Yeah.

AB: Is it hard for you to sit down and write?

MM: It’s not hard. Once I start, I can let it flow. It’s definitely more work than being on TV. Being on TV, they just flash a camera – you have to do your research – but basically just be witty, sparkle and be yourself. It’s more fun and effortless for me than sitting down and writing. Writing is painstaking. And my column takes the whole week – it’s a work in progress every week where I have to retool it, work out better segues, refine it all. TV is just wham!: instant gratification – go home and watch yourself on tape. It’s fun. I prefer live TV, like MSNBC.

AB: Do you have hope for the future?

MM: I do. I am very hopeful.

AB: Are you an optimist?

MM: Well, the scary thing is that deep down I am nice and an optimist. And that’s probably the most horrifying thing about me. Everyone just thinks I’m a jaded bitter bitch.

AB: They always do.

MM: But I’m a nice kid from Brooklyn. I’m a good friend. I’m trust worthy. Because I grew up so solitary and wanting some human connection that when I did get it, I became the best friend you could have. I’m very discreet. I can keep a secret better than anybody. As a gossip columnist, you learn the importance of discretion when you need it.

AB: How did the book come about? Did you go to them?

MM: No, they came to me and asked if I wanted to do a book.

AB: Did they know you through your work at Out?

MM: Yeah, I interviewed Aiden Shaw for them. And I said, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to do a collection.” Most other people don’t want to do a collection.

AB: People don’t want to do collections?

MM: Not with gossip – they feel it dates. But this is more of a history of the changing gossip and gay scene...

AB: How did you select the columns?

MM: I had to literally read through a thousand columns. I already had my favorites in folders – I don’t know why, but I just did. That cut down a lot of the work, but I still had to read through everything I’ve ever done. I wanted celebrity, gay items, blind items, nightlife, personal journeys...

AB: Is there one favorite?

MM: My favorite’s probably the one with The Kids in The Hall, just because it was before celebrities were so guarded. They did have a publicist and an assistant watching over them and keeping me away from certain danger zones. It’s amazing how far I got with them. It just became this sexual game where we were all teasing each other and pinching each other’s nipples. One of them I think was ready to go home with me, but he was x-ing. And the publicist made sure that didn’t happen. But it was still way more outrageous than any celebrity situation now where everything’s so guarded and controlled. Unless you’re looking at Britney Spears’ vagina as she exits a car.

AB: There have certainly been a lot of outings this year...

MM: These outings are so visible on the internet. Four million people read about it. The stars have to come out. Everyone knows about it already. In the old days, I was in the corner, the guy at the alternative press, screaming at Rosie O’Donnell and Ellen, Kevin Spacey, Boy George, George Michael.

AB: Which was your favorite outing of the year?

MM: Well I didn’t like that so many of them were shame based, like so many of the Mark Foley’s and Ted Haggard’s. It doesn’t send a great message – “Look at these hypocritical freaks”. On the other hand, it does show the kids in Iowa that the kids preaching homophobia to them are liars. They’re living a lie and they don’t really mean it, so maybe it is good.

AB: How do you feel about getting older?

MM: I used to read these interviews with Joan Collins-type actresses about how great it is to get older and it’s such a bunch of horseshit. There’s really nothing good about it.

AB: No?

MM: I mean, unless you hate you’re life and you want to die.

AB: You get more respect.

MM: Well, that’s true: you do get a little more reverence. People treat you with a little more respect, but other than that, it’s not good. It’s just not good. Anyone who tells you it’s great is full of it.

AB: So, what’s next? What do you still want to do with your life?

MM: I like doing what I’m doing. I didn’t think I’d be doing it this long. I’ve been through five owners and ten editors at The Voice. I can’t do anything else. I can’t imagine a better situation. It’s almost like this job was created especially for me. It’s almost like the only job of its kind and I’m the only person who can fill it. And without it, I almost cease to exist. If I didn’t have things to do every night and celebrities to meet and events to attend and wasn’t able to write about everything I wanted to every week, I wouldn’t have much purpose. I’d just be another anonymous droid.

AB: There are a lot of them out there.

MM: Yeah, and I never wanted to be one of them.