Everybody knows that gay clubs guarantee unbridled gregariousness for ladies letting loose. No creepy pickup-artist-types feeding you lame one-liners at the bar, no long waits for the girls' bathroom and no competitive up-and-down glares from other dolled-up attention whores in hotter getups than yours. Well, scratch that last one: Some gay guys can be just as catty, sometimes even more so than other women, and if you infiltrate the wrong dude-packed dance orgy — particularly some of WeHo's circuit-y hump-holes — you won't just feel out of place, you'll feel like a pariah with a puss. But thankfully, L.A. is full of flamboyant dance fetes that keep their homo integrity and make us hags feel welcome, too.

Though it's moved around town quite a bit (from Crash Mansion to Charlie O's to the basement of Club 740 to its current location, at La Cita), Mustache Mondays has never lost its warm 'n' fuzzy feel, especially when it comes to the dance floor. Vogueing may be about dancing with one's self, but it ain't about personal space, and Mustache's most Madonna-ish men meander all over the place, making for constant interaction and mutual admiration between females, fellas and those who fall somewhere in between. At midnight, there's always a drag show, special DJ set or choreographed dance number, but really, the whole bash is a show — and a little flash (not 'stache) is all anyone needs to join.

—Lina Lecaro

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