It really didn’t matter how thick I lined my eyes or how high my snakeskin boots arched.
Who could compete with the drag dolls who were out in full-on fabulous force lastnight at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Cherokee? The reason behind all those hours of makeup and hairspray among them was to celebrate the newest “reality” contest, “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” (The series debuts Feb. 2 on the Logo network and online.) There were femme fatales of every kind, some artists in their illusion, others just crafty. As clusters of them surged onto busy Hollywood Boulevard, I wondered if we weren't about to witness a live tableau a la "Eyes of Laura Mars."
And what’s with this new wave of club kids? From the tall platforms to their found object accessories (noting you, in particular, kid with the tote bag silkscreened “L.A. Dept. of Transportation”), these creatures are channeling the club kids who once upon two decades ago trounced around the Limelight in NYC and Sinamatic here. Complete replicas! Do they realize how retro they are? Marvelous.
The mob scene swelled beyond the sidewalk as party guests clamored to get into show producer World of Wonder’s too-tiny gallery, where a collection of glittering costumes, Technicolor photographs and other over-the-top art was on view as part of the event.
Not that it mattered. Once it hit capacity, and the party inside did immediately, the fire marshal blocked anyone from entering the space. And that means anyone. Artist Kenny Scharff didn't stand a chance, while Gai Gherardi, co-founder of L.A. Eyeworks and a party sponsor, made the mistake of stepping outside. Show judge Merle Ginsberg, with a quartet of neon contestants and civilian pals in tow, including Cameron Silver, couldn’t even get beyond the front or back doors. “I mean, isn’t that us on the posters,” loudly grumbled competitor Rebecca Glasscock, as she (yet-again) tugged at the hem of her gold Spandex dress. It endlessly crept up her rather bulbous bum.
Show guest Charo was whisked to the door, and just as quickly whisked away from the scene when she, too, was denied. And if that didn’t take the (pan)cake, not even the queen bee herself, RuPaul could break in. Maybe the fire marshal didn’t recognize the show star. Afterall, Ru was one of the few arrivals not in drag.
While the street action was performance art in itself, I’ve never been one to stand in a line for anything. There was only one thing to do in this case: Skip across the street and tuck into a booth at Musso & Frank’s for a two-olive Ketel One martini and a shrimp cocktail.
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