Inevitably, there has been some backlash. When Patrick shared the proposed "gay-friendly amenities" with the Sun-Sentinel, it set off a Howard Sternish outcry among some readers. "Hmmm," posted one on the newspaper's Web site. "Gerbil pens acceptable to neighborhood covenants? KY dispensers in the bedrooms?" Another poster pointed out that, if you substituted "black" or "Hispanic" for "gay," the whole idea would be branded as racist. (Patrick has since left the project for unspecified reasons.)
Gay comedian and columnist Bruce Vilanch recently satirized the project in a thinly veiled Advocate piece about the fictional "Wavering Facades, the world's first gated and secured metrosexual community: Anyone caught on the premises with an unmoisturized face or elbow will be escorted to the front gates."
Perhaps understandably, Ellis is close-mouthed these days about the focus grouping: "We don't want to build something that will be interpreted as specifically designed for the gay population," he says, apparently less committed to commitment ceremonies than he was four months ago. And the project's slick new, Flash-enabled Web site would seem to confirm that Ellis and crew are newly wary of depicting the project as "too gay."
Or, for that matter, gay at all.
On the Web site, most of the code words ("open-minded") have vanished. As have clear indicators that Wilton Manors is not Everytown, USA. In the animated intro, a few same-sex couples (easily confused with chortling straight buds or gossipy wives) zip by so quickly you'd be forgiven if you missed them in the crowds of happy heteros. Only one pair -- two preppy guys cozying up on a Vespa -- seems particularly Wildean.
Bill Murray, the media director of the Family Research Council, a prominent conservative group that opposes gay marriage, was struck by this: "At what point in the recruitment process, will [the marketers] expose themselves and their desire to create a largely gay community? It doesn't seem like the company thinks it has a very good idea because they're hiding from the fact."
Stephanie Blackwood, who co-owns Double Platinum, a New York gay marketing agency that helps companies such as Procter & Gamble and America Online tap into the $450 billion gay market, has a more reasoned reaction: "The site is very ambiguous, which is not an uncommon strategy. It allows [a gay person's] filter to tell him those are gay boys in the pool together, whereas a straight man will just see two guys." This approach, known in advertising circles as "gay vague," became popular after early attempts to run explicitly gay ads in the mainstream media backfired. The famous 1994 Ikea television spot, in which a loving, squabbling gay couple shop for tables, was quickly pulled due to bomb threats.
The site's vagueness is entirely strategic. "We spoke to a lot of experts," says Jim Ellis. "One marketing company would say, hit the gay market in the face. And another company would say, don't even go there." He opted to barely go there.
As a result, says Blackwood, the site may trigger a different backlash: from disappointed gay buyers. "I'd be lying if I didn't say there's a risk the Web site might alienate gay buyers. When given a choice between an ad that speaks to me vs. one that speaks to my straight neighbor, I'll choose the ad which acknowledges I exist."
Ellis knows that the 17 to 25 million gay American market not only exists, but is extremely desirable. (Readers of the Advocate earn an average income of over $100,000, and are four times as likely to earn over $200,000 than the general population.) Will he tweak the Web site, given such risks? "We'll play it by ear," he says. "Adjusting the message as we see fit, depending on the feedback."
When asked if he thinks his project will appeal to gay couples in, say, Alabama, who are afraid to hold hands in their hometown, who might see it as an oasis of acceptance, especially in this election year when gay issues are dividing the country, Ellis is vague, or possibly naive. "You know," he says, "I'd never thought of that."
The funny thing is, he may be sincere.
Those of us who think about such things have noticed that 2004 is a particularly volatile moment for gays. Gay activists have enjoyed recent victories, from the overturning of Texas' sodomy law to the consecration of V. Gene Robinson as the Episcopalians' first gay bishop. But the biggest victory -- the wave of "civil-disobedience" gay marriages that swept the country -- has galvanized the pro and anti sides more than ever.
At one end of the fear spectrum are the poker-faced "policy debates" of conservative groups like the Family Research Council determined to push through the proposed constitutional amendment restricting marriage to heterosexuals. At the other, unhinged Christian groups who counter gay protesters' cries for "Equal rights!" by shouting "Jesus Christ!"
In the midst of this chaos, the sunny gates of Wilton Station seem to be touching a chord, coincidentally or not. The first wave of advertising pulled in over 3,000 requests for more info, well exceeding the developers' expectations. Of these responses, far more came from the Advocate's 105,000 readers than from the New York Times Magazine's audience of 1.7 million.
The project -- which, after all, is still just a construction site -- has not yet caused a blip on the radar of high-profile conservative groups. The Concerned Women of America have no official comment. Nor has the Family Research Council urged its supporters to protest. But it seems inevitable that, if Wilton Station does trigger a trend -- especially if "married" homosexuals with children set up house in such enclaves -- the idea of a (mostly) gay gated community won't escape scrutiny.