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Slush

ONLY HER BARTENDER KNOWS FOR SURE

The opening-night bash at BEAUTY BAR LOS ANGELES would've brought a Max Factor Pan Stik­cracking smile to JACQUELINE SUSANN's face. A shrine to vanity and cocktails, Beauty Bar's interior is done in pastel shades with mirrors everywhere (of course!), a row of domed hair-dryer chairs, and glass cases full of vintage perfumes and powders. The glamorously dressed crowd on Cahuenga waiting to get in was greeted by Beauty Bar partner ROSE APODACA JONES in an up-do that would've had any of the Gabor sisters swooning with envy. Inside, SMASHBOX makeup artists were giving great face, and a cigarette girl wandered through the wall-to-wall crowd handing out free lipsticks. One of the first guests through the door was glamazon starlet CHRISTINA RICCI, followed by most of the cast of Mad TV, Felina lingerie magnate WILLIE MRASEK, BRUNO CAMPOS from Jesse, and Miss Exotic World 1999 KINA STEWART, who can be seen in the newly published Driving Me Wild book on hot-rod culture. The tunes blasting were not what your grandma would hear while getting a perm -- think Murder City Devils and Iggy -- but that was fine by guests like LARS from METALLICA, punk maven JOHN ROECKER and L7's DONITA SPARKS. Beauty Bar has a happy hour Thursdays and Fridays where you can get manicures along with martinis, giving new meaning to the phrase "Relax, honey, you're soaking in it!"

--Pleasant Gehman

ROOM WITH A LOOP slush

At least one guest paused, slightly bewildered, as he towed his suitcase through the chic and sleek set who were sipping martinis and talking art as they crowded into a hallway off the lobby at THE STANDARD. Now it's not that he was just some FOP -- you know, Fresh Off the Plane type -- startled to discover that Los Angeles indeed has a cultural life. Although he was that. No, he'd slowed to gaze at a video (seen for the first time in the U.S.) of gorgeous naked and half-naked Gucci-clad women from VANESSA BEECROFT's performance piece SHOW. "Oh, I saw that at the Guggenheim a couple of years ago," he remarked to no one in particular before heading off to the elevator. "Our goal was to place art where it would be seen by a larger audience, outside of a gallery or museum context -- to bring it into another realm," says smart 'n' snazzy curator YVONNE FORCE, out from New York with artist husband LEO VILLAREAL (the two were recently profiled in Vogue) for the swank soiree kicking off "Projection: 24/7," the first in a series of video presentations. The inaugural installation is a 170-minute continuous loop that features works by 13 established and emerging artists such as BRUCE YONEMOTO and KEVIN HANLEY, both of whom were at the opening, as well as JOHN BALDESSARI, SUE DE BEER, CHRIS BURDEN (who premiered a 1983 work) and MARCO BRAMBILLA (image from his Superstar pictured). Taking it all in were artists RUDOLF STINGEL, DOUG AITKEN, JASON MEADOWS, ANDY ALEXANDER, FIDEL MARQUEZ, local gallerists MARC FOXX, TIMOTHY BLUM, JEFFREY POE and London's VICTORIA MIRO, Peter Norton­collection curator SUSAN CAHAN, new director of the Armand Hammer Museum ANN PHILBIN, and über-hotelier ANDRE BALAZS, who will soon be setting a new Standard downtown with his latest hotel at the former Bank of California building. Sure beats those usual dreary hotel-lobby paintings.

--Kateri Butler

NORWOOD YOU

It was a nutrageous night of funky moves and nasty grooves at the FISHBONE/TRULIO DISGRACIAS posse's annual NUTTSTALK gathering at the KEY CLUB. The jam-o-rama has had some big-name guests over the years, and since every bathroom stall in the place was plastered with fliers for Fishbone's new release, The Psychotic Friends Nuttwerk, and touting contributions by GWEN STEFANI, GEORGE CLINTON, RICK JAMES, PERRY FARRELL, DONNY OSMOND (?!) and members of the RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS, we were hoping for some stellar sit-ins. None of those luminaries showed, but we were treated to the smooth sounds of WEAPON OF CHOICE, whose scantily clad dancer JELLYBEAN -- the braided gal who danced in boy's undies with FLEA during the Peppers' infamous MTV Music Awards set a few years back -- mesmerized the young urban hotties. Things got even steamier when '70s dirty dude rapper BLOWFLY took the stage in a silver glitter mask and matching cape, and offered a free CD to any girl who would "get onstage and touch NORWOOD FISHER's dick." Strangely, no one took him up on the offer. If only he had meant that 6-inch dreadlock protruding from the Fishbone bassist's forehead.

--Lina Lecaro

WHEN A GAL'S GOTTA ROCK . . .

slushIf you tried to stop by TOWER RECORDS on Monday night to complete your Backstreet Boys CD collection, you had to go to the VIRGIN MEGASTORE instead, due to the in-store concert by apparently too-powerful ROSEANNE (pictured). We'd heard about her recent club gigs at the Mint and Viper Room, where she packed/cleared the house in short order. We've always admired the woman for being honestly crass and sassy, which is actually pretty rock & roll, so if she wants to be a rock star now, God bless her. In the parking lot waiting for Godanne, er, Roseanne, DANNY ("Don't call me Partridge") BONADUCE provided the soundbites, and we noticed COOLIO standing around. The manipulated mob scene, all shot for a segment to be aired on her talk show March 1, was a model of star-tripped, ego-driven overblown Hollywood fantasy -- i.e., totally great. Walkie-talkied PAs relayed Roseanne's 10-20 while the obedient fans -- a more diverse crowd you will never see -- lined up, moved back, cheered and moved back more. After the star emerged from a white stretch Humvee, everybody filed into the World Music and Import sections to get rocked. While MR. ROSEANNE stood back and showed that he can look bored and chew gum at the same time, Roseanne and her band worked through "Play That Funky Music" and what sounded like "Voodoo Chile." She drank a beer and kept her shades on just like a real rock star. But when Roseanne caterwauled the "feed your head" line from "White Rabbit," it was very necessary to depart, leaving us forever wondering what the heck Coolio was doing there.

--Libby Molyneaux