Profile In Thrive: Cole Escola

Dear Everyone:

          The Thrive Guide has brought you a greatly diversified group of profiles since our first interview in April.  Add to the list Cole Escola, a performer/writer who's just landed a show on Logo with his close friend and personal co-star Jeffrey Self.  If there's anything more fascinating than the new show (and I'm not saying that there is) it might be Cole's approach to living in the city and enjoying it.  One afternoon, we met in Hell's Kitchen for a boys-day-out: a romp about the river, a near-tour of a gigantic boat named Intrepid, a purusing of Bea Arthur's old wardrobe at a local Goodwill, and some wine and cheese at a hole in the wall.  Meet Cole Escola.  

JORDAN: Okay, who is Cole Escola?

COLE: Cole is your mom's idea of a best friend.

J: And where is Cole's favorite place in the city?

C: My favorite place in the city is... bars.  All of them.  Well, mainly all of them.  But I like Bar Centrale, there's some celebrities there and it feels very uptown.  It feels like what the lobby for Turner Classic Movies feels like.  They really don't probably have a lobby.  But that's what it'd feel like.  

J: You like drinking at bars-- describe the perfect night of drinking at home.  First, the solo expedition, then with friends.

C: All right, so by myself, I would have a bottle of champagne and fingerfoods... maybe like, chips and guacamole with champagne.  And i would catch up on daytime television on DVR.  With friends, I would invite them over with two bottles of champagne and we would all catch up together on morning T.V. on DVR.

J: So are you inferring that we should've got champagne instead of wine?

C: No, that's more of a celebration thing.  The wine we're drinking now is for the fruit and cheese platter.  

J: In your hypothetical evening in, what are you celebrating?

C: Friendship.  

Cole's co-star in Jeffrey and Cole Casserole, is, indeed, one of his best friends.  But before one should educate themselves on the show itself (all three of the thusly aired episodes are available online) one should know a little about Cole's past.  

J: Right now, would you describe yourself as a performer?

C: Yes.  I would describe myself as a writer-performer.

J: Give me the timeline of your performance-writing career.  Maybe in the format of a 50s book musical.

C: Picture it!  It's 1987, there's a trailer in the middle of the woods in rural Oregon, and a young boy is watching the film version of the Wizard of Oz for the first time-- I KNOW, WAIT, sounds on the nose.  He falls in love with someone.  Her name is Billy Burke, she played Glenda.  After that, I researched her the only way I knew how-- through the archives that were my grandmother, and found out that Billy Burke did another film called Dinner at Eight.  And that was the time I decided to be a performer.  Since then: community theatre, high school drama competitions, television.  

J: Where are you now?

C: Right now, I'm on... I don't know where I am now.  Right now, I have a T.V. show that's gonna come on.  I don't like talking about it, though, I don't like jinxing it.  But I will say: YouTube is the new Vaudeville.  And I feel like it's the new millennium's answer to Mickey and Judy. 

That's interesting.  Admit it.  You'll never look at YouTube the same way again.  We talked a bit more about the entertainers of the day (and the days passed) before moving onto Cole's tips for survival in the city.  

J: Okay, Cole, hit the thrive thing over the head... tell me how you really thrive in the city.

  Because like I've always said, people our age come here, they think it's going to be fantastic, and they just hit a wall.  And they ooze down the wall like a cartoon.  If you and the city are married, how do you keep the marriage alive?

C: I keep my marriage with the city alive by checking in with it.  But never fully committing myself to it.  I spend a lot of time looking at New York.  Number one: buildings.  Number two: nature.  Number three: people.

J: Where's the best place to look at nature in the city?

C: Oh, Washington Heights, by far.  There's a really great place underneath the George Washington bridge.  It's just on a rock.  And you'd have no idea that it was part of Manhattan if you didn't live there.  It feels just like a hicktown with gross factories.  And big rocks by the water to lay on.  By yourself.  In the nude?  I don't.  But some people do.

J: And what is the ideal way to check in with the city?

C: To be by yourself in the city and be okay with it.  

I completely agree with Cole about the importance of alone time, even in a city filled with people and their relationships.  It seems like simply getting lunch with a friend is a grueling process when it comes to factoring in time for trains and walking and such, as well as factoring in the schedules of your undoubtedly busy friends.  Time alone isn't so hard.  I suggest it.  So does Cole.  

J: So you wanted some hypotheticals.  

C: Yes!

J: Hypothetical one: you're in the Upper East Side, naked, and you have $27.50 to your name. What do you do with that money to make yourself feel comfortable in the Upper East Side?  Or do you enjoy being nude in the Upper East Side?  Realistically: what do you do?!  

C: Realistically, I would need to put clothes on.  Just cuz, realistically, you know, you get arrested.  That's obvious, I'm not that naive.  Realistically, I would go to 3rd avenue to the Children's Place, because I can fit into the bigger boy's size there and it's cheap clothes, and if I had $27.50 I could probably buy a pair of shorts that's $14.50.  Then, I'd go to one of the Goodwills over there for a t-shirt.  I would try, if I could, to spend the most money on the shoes.  Because you can wear awful clothes, but as long as you have fancy shoes, it makes the awful clothes look intentional.    

J: You have your outfit that you purchased on the Upper East Side.  You hop on the subway. It's time for lunch.  Where do you travel?  

C: I've probably spent most of my $27.50 so I would go somewhere where it's okay to look like shit and somewhere I could possibly get free food.  I'd go to the East Village or the Lower East Side... I would go to the wine bar across the street from where I work-- Ten Bells.  I would try to finagle some free tapas and a glass of wine, and I probably could get it for free.  

J: You get your wine and your tapas for free and your favorite waitress at 10 Bells says, you look rough, here's 20 dollars.  You hop on the train, where do you go now?

C: Well if she tells me I look rough, the first place I'm gonna stop is the Duane Reade on Delancey and Ludlow, and I'm gonna get some makeup.  Cuz if you have awful clothes and good shoes, I guess you can still look like shit, but once you put the makeup on... then it all comes together.  

J: You're about to leave the Duane Reade, and you find a ten dollar bill.  You hop on the train,

 where's the next place in the city you go?  It's about 6 PM right now.

C: I'm wanting a meal but I know that I need to wait.  I have 10 dollars.  I buy coffee.  I would go to Amy's Bread on 9th Avenue between 46th and 47th.  I don't know why I like their coffee more.  Maybe it's because they know me there, and I like it better because I taste the familiarity in the brew.  Maybe an O Magainze in the train station-- it's a good magazine to kill time with.  

J: It's about 7:30 right now, you just finished your coffee, and you bend down to tie your shoe.  Someone thinks you're homeless and, uh oh, another ten dollar bill in your cup.  It's about dinner time and you want to hang out with friends.  You look all right, so who do you call and where do you go to top the night off?  

C: If I've just been to Amy's Bread, I'm obviously really close to Jeffrey.  He'd come out, and if we wanted cheap food, we'd go to Empanada Mama, where it's like $2.25 an emapanda.  I'd probably borrow money from him even if I had the 10 dollars in my pocket, you know, just to keep it.  

J: It's nearing on midnight, it's time to go out.  You still have the ten dollars, so you have enough money to buy a drink. Take us somewhere else in the city, to a hip, happening club or bar.  Where do you go?

C: Well, with 10 dollars, I'd probably go to the liquor store in Washington Heights that's open until around 2AM, sometimes 3... there are no laws, it seems like there.  I'd go there and buy a cheap bottle somewhere.  Jeffrey and I would probably go to the river, or to Jesse's Place, which is in Washington Heights, and they have really good burgers.  

Now that I'd seen a day in the city in the life of Cole Escola, I thought I'd find out about the people who make him happiest here.    

J: Who, to you, embodies New York City?  Who's your favorite New York personality?

C: One of them that Jeffrey always picks-- so I can't claim this one-- is Regis Philbin.  He's just so classic New York.  And in the same school, so is David Letterman.  I guess I'd say Kitty Carlisle Hart, if she was still alive, she's old school New York.  But right now, I think Joy Behar is very New York.  I think Barbara Walters is part of the later part of the Kitty Carlisle Hart thing.  But New York now... I guess Joy Behar.  Or Kelly Rippa.  

J: Who's your least favorite New York Personality?

C: I wanted to say Rachael Ray.  But, no, I know there's people I dislike more than her.  Oh, I just don't like Drag Queens.  A lot of them.  I like RuPaul, but RuPaul's not mean.  But most of the Drag Queens are like... mean.  And bitter.  They're just not funny anymore.  That's a very ugly piece of furniture from New York passed.  

The day ended as it had begun, by the river.  

J: So we're sitting at the river right now, enjoying a summer ail, looking at the Intrepid, which is a giant ship.  If we were to lift ourselves from this really comfortable bench and peek over the railing into the water, and you were to see the reflection of the perfect day off in New York, what would it be?  Enjoying the city?  Taking a roadtrip out to the East coast?  What do you see in the water?

C: My perfect day in New York would be to step back in New York history into a rehearsal or an audition for chorus girls, like in the '40s.  I would like to be at a '40s chorus girl audition.  I'd like to be gay in the '40s at a chorus girl audition.  And I'd like to go out with them afterwards to the greasy spoon that they eat at and drink the bathtub gin that they drink.  And sleep with them.  Women of the '40s were a lot like men in the 2010's.  That's what they'll be saying, anyway.  Because, well, maybe I'm just speaking for myself, which is all I can do, but I have a lot of moxy.  There are a lot of things I'm lacking in, but moxy's not one of them.

I couldn't have said it better myself.  

Best,

Jordan