NY Mirror

As American as tucked penises and party crashing, Doll—Theatre Couture's mixing of Ibsen and Barbie via The Carol Burnett Show—has Sherry Vine as a windup housewife with an even skankier past than Joan Allen in The Contender. It's low-reaching but fun, especially when the delectable Candis Cayne performs a wild tarantella exhibition laced with moonwalking, mime, and the Robot!

Ibsen meets Here's Lucy for Bette Midler's new series—daringly called Bette—but at this point it's the kind of party I'd rather watch from a distance. The jokes are mostly feeble and self-deprecating, and we're supposed to believe that Bette is an insecure mess who'll knock herself out to please some shlubby husband, whereas he should be licking her tawdry toes at every moment. The show comes alive whenever our star is allowed to be Bette, not "Bette." Let's have more of that, please.

"Here's Lezzie" was the unofficial theme of the Miss L.E.S. (Lower East Side) 2000 contest at the Slipper Room, where I was a crasher, bore, and judge. Miss Delancey (Adyka Jones) deservedly won, replete with kneepads, tap shoes, and a platform that called for the initiation of LSYNC—a fund for Lesbian Seagull Youth in the Closet. They're probably all dressed like Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

On the rocks: ogling the Dresden Green Diamond at Harry Winston
photo: Brian Finke
On the rocks: ogling the Dresden Green Diamond at Harry Winston

Finally, a viewing of the Dresden Green Diamond at Harry Winston exemplified the best and worst that private parties have to offer. On the bright side, there was glittery jewelry, an occasional nibble, and a performance by the formidable Patti LuPone. On the minus front, there was a mime and a juggler, too many of those women with their stomachs stapled shut and their eyes stapled open, and no gift bag. "It's a great event if you're interested in gemstones," said an editor, sincerely. I was—but the damned diamond was stuck in a glass display case so you couldn't take it home or even play with it. What kind of party is that?

And now, go to your destiny—or at least your buffet.


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