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Amanda Goldberg, Frank Longo and Liz Goldwyn |
As Ava Garter untied the ribbon to release from her curvy frame the extensive skirt covered in hundreds of real peacock feathers and reveal a sparkling crystal G-string, the loudest hoots of encouragement lavished on the budding burlesque star came from her fellow broads in the black of the theater—certainly me, as well as longtime friend Dita Von Teese, stylist Negar Ali, fiction writer Amanda Goldberg, Chloe Sevigny,…and Liz Goldwyn, who enlisted Ms. Garter to close the birthday bash she threw in honor of her husband of six years, Frank Longo.
The peacock feather and pasties act was only the desert to a Sunday evening of quirky cabaret that among other entertainment featured in the evening’s two parts included the rapid-fire droll emceeing of Rob Zalkinda, a truly enchanting set by Becky Stark; the instrumental-mike in mouth stylings of Money Mark; a three-song soup by neo-psychedelics Dead Meadow, comedy by Mike O’Connell (in little more than white cotton skivvies and holding an acoustic guitar) and other wacky snacks, all on the stage of the culty Silent Movie Theater house on Fairfax Avenue. This is among Liz’s favorite L.A. spots, which she often champions in magazine profiles written about her, and so it was fitting she’d book the rather unpretentious movie house for her hubbie’s 40th.
So, too, it was completely within form that Liz had billed the night (literally, it was emblazoned on the street-side marquee) “Debauched Decadence.” Something about the carnita tacos served up by the kind crew who trekked over to this mid-city back garden behind the theater from Juanita's, a landmark taqueria in Eagle Rock; the chilled sangria that tasted like fruit punch; the Japanese short films flickering on the screen or the mishmash of stylings by the performers that all seemed connected; oh, and all of us dressed according to Liz’s request.
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Cameron Silver and Jeff Snyder |
And to those of us drooling over her high, high, leopard heels with the lace-up ankle bands, Liz sheepishly enthused they were newly scored Givenchy…couture, no less. Meow.
Here’s to another lap around the sun, Frank. It sure beat a retiring Sunday night at home.
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Dita, Andy and yours truly |