Fetus Don't Fail Me Now
Photo by Carlos Batts
"Spread your legs wider . . . no, wider," video director THOMAS MIGNONE (Slipknot, Mudvayne) instructed dancer-actress SABINA SALAY, who giggled nervously and attempted to comply, somewhat restricted by the silver-lamé stretch capris into which she'd been poured. Though Salay patiently writhed and perspired for hours on Saturday before a greenscreen in service to the DANZIG clip "Kiss the Skull" (the second from the satanic quartet's epoch-making new 777: I Luciferi), spectator interest concentrated on a sideshow attraction, a plastic devil fetus that had been, uh, conceived for the project by GLENN DANZIG (pictured) and manufactured by film prop master WAYNE TOTH. Horned cranium, check. Spade-ended tail, check. Bloody umbilical cord, check. "It's even got hooves!" beamed proud papa Glenn, whose just-concluded tour featured lavish stage accouterments including skulls, succubi and topless dancing nuns. The reliably jet-garbed singer said he's currently summoning some of his favorite acts that never get MTV airtime to accompany him on what he's tentatively calling his "Blackest of the Black" excursion, "my big finger to the corporate music industry." Let's hope that between his music and his comix business, Danzig will save time to compile his projected catalog of demonic manifestations in popular culture, Satan, King of All Media.
WHAT'S THAT SMELL?
Free food, booze and make-overs drew the fabled Tinseltown mix of models, wannabes, leering suits, freaks, tourists and overplucked club boys into SEPHORA's Hollywood & Highland boutique for a party launching STILA's new fragrance collection. The packed store was awash in alcohol, though strict security kept revelers from traipsing onto the courtyard with colorful "stila-tinis" (courtesy of Absolut). The theme was extreme "girly" to launch Bouquet du Jour, Stila's "ultimate it-girl fragrance collection." The multihued beverages matched the pastel crust-free sandwiches, which matched the coordinating fragrance system. Jurassic Park star LAURA DERN was in attendance, and Stila creator/founder JEANINE LOBELL supervised the mass make-overs conducted by peppy, black-clad stylists on flocks of eager mall chicks. Teen glamazons in floral chiffon summer shifts proffered swatches of the two perfumes, which, we were informed, can be customized with the purchase of a quartet of Stila body lotions. Outside in the courtyard, Dixie Chicks fans on their way to the Kodak Theater rubbed elbows with exhausted-looking shoppers draped over balconies waiting for the much-advertised but tardy laser show. When a down-market Donatella Versace look-alike and her Spider-Man T-shirtwearing companion wandered out to the courtyard with "stila-tinis" in hand, security shooed them back into Sephora immediately, despite high-pitched protests in Italian. Noticeably absent were the Boulevard's seedier denizens, as well as the single black glove that had been part of the Sephora employee ensemble. "Too many customers asked if Michael Jackson owned the store," sighed a Sephora clerk, who went on to explain that the black glove enhanced the presentation of the product, thus increasing sales. Perhaps the cosmetically assisted Gloved One should take a tip from Sephora and sell copies of his recent CD by hand.
--SANDRA ROSS (Photo by Michael Schmidt)
DEAR PRUDENCE, CALL ME
It was a diva date with destiny when two of rock & roll's fiercest and foxiest femmes, SIOUXSIE SIOUX and DEBBIE HARRY (pictured), happened to be in town at the same time. A few nights before the BANSHEES' Palladium gig and BLONDIE's Grove show, designer MICHAEL SCHMIDT and DJ JOSEPH BROOKS, along with party planner BRYAN RABIN (who's just reopened Cherry at the Key Club), designer RICK OWENS and Les Deux Cafés' MICHELLE LAMY marked the occasion with a ragin' bash at Lamy's Hollywood eatery. Sure, the swanky spot has seen its share of celeb-studded soirees, but this fete's guest list was a wonderfully weird mishmash that made for a casual backyard BBQ kind of feel, where old-school punks chatted up fabulous fashionistas, goth ghoulies exchanged laughs with hot young thangs, tattooed rockabilly boys fetched drinks for new-wave princesses -- and everyone wondered what the heck MELISSA RIVERS was doing there. Among the spellbound and those eating to the beat were rockers MACY GRAY, MATT SORUM, JACK ATLANTIS, SMUTTY SMITH, KEVIN HASKINS and ABBY TRAVIS, frocksters JEREMY SCOTT, SWEET PEA and MONAH LI with writer JERRY STAHL, actors ANN MAGNUSON, BUCK HENRY, JULIE DELPY and CHINA CHOW, photog DAVID LaCHAPELLE, chef MONICA MAY with interior-designing hubby RICKI KLINE, hipster hairstylists HENRY PECK and DANILLO, supermodel AMBER VALETTA, writer/DJ BRENDAN MULLEN, artist KENNY SHARF, interior designer RON MEYERS, and KROQ's RODNEY BINGENHEIMER. Even A-listers can go into awe-overdrive: PATRICIA ARQUETTE shook and gushed when she met Sioux, and Marilyn Manson drummer GINGER FISH patiently stood by the raven-haired crooner and hubby BUDGIE's table waiting for a mere glimpse from them. The rock-queen quotient went off the chart when CHERIE CURRIE, LYDIA LUNCH and NINA HAGEN joined the festivities, with the German chanteuse demanding, "I vant vat my Engleesh goddess is dwinking" at the Chivas Regal bar, which offered cocktails named after famous clubs including The Masque and The CBGB. When a pink-clad PARIS HILTON (overheard being described as the "Motel 6 gal") pushed her way into the pack of legendary ladies, then made a call on her matching crystal-covered cell phone, Ms. Sioux put the etiquette-challenged heiress in her place: "You are being rude and ruining my party -- take that incessant, vapid conversation away from here." Hilton groused to her caller that as soon as she got a drink, she was outta there because "everyone is so rude." Ah, the rich are different . . .
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