By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
On the mainland, things seem to be getting friskier, obviously in tongue-wagging anticipation of Premier Giuliani's departure (though state officials are having the last sick laugh by crunching down on Peter Gatien's clubs). The Knock-Off bash that happens Fridays at the Slipper Room serves up a racy, multigender revue of kitsch, though I'm still smarting from the performer dressed like a giant vagina who enfolded me with her labia while singing "Lick Me in My Wet Spot" to the tune of Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot." Help!
They dressed like they had giant vaginas at the Miss All That Contest, a demented drag pageant that I helped judge at Cheez Whiz (Sundays at the Parkside Lounge) in exchange for two Diet Cokes. After four hours of jury deliberation, the crown went to Pastiche Mélange, a flat-chested beauty with a penchant for jaunty berets and Lou Reed songs. The prize? According to organizer Sweetie, it was "a Jeep Cherokee, sexual reassignment via Puket, Thailand, and a year's worth of Percocet." Hopefully not in that order.
"Fusion" drugs were advisable for the HX Awards at Limelight last weekthe club was even allowed to serve booze back thenespecially since the set list contained the very surreal sentence, "Rue McClanahan will present a special award to Junior Vasquez." This actually wasn't all that shocking, considering Rue has been hosting something called Faggot Feud at a Chelsea bar named Blu. (What nextEstelle Getty at the Manhole?) Alas, Rue didn't make it to Limelightshe'd never confirmedbut Junior did, announcing that, with Twilo shuttered, he'll next spin at Exit rather than enter unemployment. (The girl who plays the lesbian on All My Children showed too, but she got carved up by the drag hosts, who deadpanned, "Wow, she's thin and can read a prompter.")
The city's high-cultural landscape might not be providing tons of work these daysit's off-seasonbut it's hitting with its best shot. Off Broadway, tick . . . tick . . . BOOM! proves that Jonathan Larson was a cranky, self-possessed nightmare, but one whose angsty talent makes this minor bauble brim with poignancy. What a sweet little flat-chested beauty of a show! And the late legends keep on coming. At a gala screening for the gushy Stanley Kubrick: A Life in Pictures, I asked the director's widow, Christiane Kubrick, about the nuclear bomb known as Eyes Wide Shut. "It was hugely successful in southern Europe and Japan," she insisted. So am Ibut why did the film fail in America, pray tell? "It was badly advertised," said Christiane, "but Stanley couldn't stop it. He was dead already." I hate when that happens.
In the land of more upbeat promotional possibilities, I hear that author Tama Janowitz will be on the cover of Modern Ferret magazine with her pets, as photographed by Todd Oldham. Anyone for the back cover of Contemporary Gerbil?
Monkey talk dominated Paper's Tribeca Grand party for sultry Planet of the Apes costar Lisa Marie. The model-turned-actress told me that the movie's simian costumes transformed the cast so dramatically that "when I looked at Tim Roth, I couldn't see Tim in there." (Maybe if you handed him a banana?) Interestingly, Randy Harrison, who plays the lovestruck twinkie in search of Brian's banana on Queer as Folk, was standing nearby, talking about how peeling off his costume in the show's King of Babylon contest episode utterly unnerved him. "The sex scenes are fine," he told me, "but to get up there and strip for 40 extras was humiliating. It was so hard for me to fake that kind of confidence." Honey, try dressing up like a giant vagina.
I stripped down to my real fake personality for the American Fashion Awards, where the apexnot just of this event, but of the history of mankindwas Diana Ross presenting an award to Bob Mackie by flicking back her extensions, spinning around like a sequined dreidel, and cooing, "Fashion and glamour have been my life." We know, dear, we know.