Makeup or Breakup | Slush | Los Angeles | Los Angeles News and Events | LA Weekly
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Makeup or Breakup 

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photo by Brendan Mullen

Edited by Kateri Butler & Libby Molyneaux

Thanks in large part to a much-aired special on E! called Hollywood Nights, JOSEPH BROOKS and JASON LAVITT's monthly glam-o-rama MAKEUP at El Rey has become the undisputed hottest spot to play dress-up in town. But is there conflict at the cosmetic king(queen)dom? Soon after a Halloween bash at the Las Vegas Hard Rock Hotel's new club, Baby's, for another E! special, rumors abounded that one of Makeup's most flamboyant figureheads, host(ess) PAT BRIGGS, a.k.a. Torment, has departed the club. And while there's been plenty of talk among glitter-gelled clubsters about the reason, Brooks informs us that "Due to a mutual agreement, Pat Briggs is no longer performing or producing the show at Makeup." End of story. Now, instead of presenting the same host and a bunch of drag-sters doing covers each month, there'll be a completely different midnight extravaganza, starting with a live performance from the stage stars of Hedwig and the Angry Inch this Saturday. And what of Mr. Briggs? Pat will only say that he's left to pursue his music, which includes a CD, World Dominatrix, to be released online the same day that the new E! special is aired (Sunday, December 19), featuring himself and fellow wigged ones ALEXIS ARQUETTE, MISTRESS FORMIKA, JACKIE BEAT and CANDYASS tucking it in and belting it out.

--Lina Lecaro

 

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TONY, TONY, TONY!

Opening night of LA BOCA, the Conga Room's whimsical new Ronnie Meyer­designed restaurant, attracted what seemed to be the cast, past and present, of NYPD BLUE, including JIMMY SMITS, DENNIS FRANZ and SHARON LAWRENCE, as well as actress MARIA CONCHITA ALONZO. Everyone mixed, mingled and munched on a minor supply of finger foods. (No need to fear the fare here any longer; the powers that be swiped the chef from Asia de Cuba.) In one corner was b-ball star KAREEM ABDUL-JABBAR (all 15 feet of him) stooping at half-mast to clutch his dance partner's digits, while the sight of the night was MR. and MRS. TONY CURTIS. When this mismatched couple -- he in spats and trademark knee-length suit jacket with white out-turned cuffs; she, a Danish dish packed into a Pucciesque miniskirt complete with platinum pigtails and clear acrylic pumps -- weren't twirling each other around the room, they'd trip the light fantastic with one of Tony's adoring fans. It was as though the floor was littered with refugees from the land of misfit toys, with the Curtises in the center ring. As the evening wore down, the ever-anxious Curtis could barely contain himself as a band member urged the audience to applaud Tony . . . only it wasn't Curtis he was referring to. (The former movie star demurely stepped back into the crowd with a gracious grin.) And as he and the missus made their grand exit, we couldn't help but wish the happy couple a good night. Without missing a beat, Mr. Curtis swung our way to say, "Adiós," as he waddled down the steps, tip-toeing into the night.

--J.V. McAuley

 

THE GUPPIE BALL, 1999

"Justa Bunch of Rich Queens Sittin' Around Yakkin' 'Bout Stocks 'n' Cocks" would have been a great name for THE 28th ANNIVERSARY BALL FOR THE GAY AND LESBIAN CENTER at the Bonaventure -- had the black-tie event been a Broadway musical. Gratefully, NELL CARTER, camp king BRUCE VILANCH, Judy Garland's baby gal LORNA LUFT and the dragalicious hostess MUSTY CHIFFON added a much-needed touch o' color to the otherwise yawn-event. While a soul-food-cravin' Carter, replete with a blond 'fro à la Dennis Rodman, expressed concern to us about whether collard greens 'n' cornbread would be served for din-din, POLICE CHIEF BERNARD PARKS (who later went to great pains to tell us what a shitty paper he thinks the Weekly is for all the nasty things written about him and his fine force -- like, duh, you'll see a full-page letter of apology right under a Rampart update in next week's issue, okay, chief?) and his frau made their grand entrance along with political notables including JACKIE GOLDBERG and CONGRESSMAN HENRY WAXMAN sending a strong political message to the rest of the Southland: Don't fuck with Hollywood Hills sissies. After nodding off during the speeches, we crept out while one-hit wonder TAYLOR DAYNE performed. Engrossed in gossip with car models AMBER J and CLEOMEDIA, sadly we missed SAM HARRIS' heart-wrenching version of "Over the Rainbow." But we can still catch him on reruns of Star Search, right?

--Derrick Mathis

 

I SAW MOMMY DISSING SANTA CLAUS

Even if you've outgrown sitting on Santa's lap at the Scientology building, you're still never too old to join the reveling crowds lining the sidewalks to view THE HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS PARADE. Part Macy's parade, part Day of the Locust, it's a good time that often borders on an exercise in public surrealism. Photographer JEFFOTO threw his traditional bash at his loft above PLAYMATES, and some of those partaking of the spiced cider were longtime scenesters like JANE CANTILLION, members of DROP, MOTORCYCLE BOY, and Boston songstress RATSY, a recent L.A. transplant who was blown away by this year's display. Down below, the marching bands featured cheerleaders clad in what appeared to be '80s goth clubwear; beach-party-movie refugees like FABIAN, CONNIE STEVENS and FRANKIE AVALON; and plenty of B-list sitcom characters (the car featuring THE CAST OF BEVERLY HILLS 90210, for example, had none of the show's main characters). Parade regular RIP TAYLOR was resplendent in a tinsel coat that would've made LIBERACE sick with envy, but he was severely outshone by the float featuring a tuxedoed, piano-playing RICK SILANKAS, THE AMBASSADOR OF ROMANCE. Excuse us, but who?!? The best off-the-cuff comment came from man-about-town MITCH HANDSONE, who groaned in disgust as "WEIRD AL" YANKOVIC rode by. "I hate you! I spit on you!" Handsone screamed down from the Playmates roof, then explained himself: "Two years ago, my girlfriend left me for 'Weird Al,' but I was too embarrassed to say anything at the time." Only in L.A.

--Pleasant Gehman

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