Madonna and a few hundred of her close, personal friends invaded the Park Plaza over the weekend as her record label threw a late-night fete to celebrate the release of her new album, “Like a Prayer.”
Paparazzi staked out the entrance, while inside, guests paid tribute to the singer/actress/soft-drink hawker by dancing to her latest single, “Like a Prayer.” The newly peroxided (and newly single) Madonna showed off her dancing skills too, but showed no signs of acquiring stigmata all night.
“Is that part of her new album? Is that ?” asked guests, who were trying to guess which of the disco-y tunes blasting through the speakers were part of Madonna’s current repertoire. Most everyone commented on how fabulous she looked.
Wandering through the vast, Viking-like rooms of the Plaza were Madonna gal-pal Sandra Bernhard (the two were also dance partners); Warren Beatty hanging with Lauren Hutton, Beverly D’Angelo and Lori Singer; too-hip modeling agents Omar and Paul Fisher; the Hollywood Kids; Dwight Yoakum (almost unrecognizable sans cowboy hat); Little Richard; chain mail designer Michael Schmidt; actor Billy Wirth; cosmopolitan gadfly Amos Newman; artist and boulevardier Jeffrey Knoll; and various record execs, musicians, models and denizens of the night.
There was no sign of Sean Penn.
Warner Bros. served canapes, make-your-own tacos and an entire table of desserts. But why was no one eating? This crowd couldn’t have been that diet-conscious. Maybe no one wanted to dribble salsa on their leather, the preferred fabric of the evening.
Agent-types opted for oversized suits and an occasional ponytail, while rockers showed off tattoos and nose rings. And let’s not forget girls in cut-out minis and bustiers, the latter vaguely reminiscent of Maddie in her old days.
Later in the evening, rappers took the stage in one of the rooms, while others danced to Madonna songs while watching the new “Like a Prayer” video. Some opted to watch the crowd or work it.
And when the party wound down about 1-ish Sunday morning, where did the cognoscenti scatter? Why, to b.c., of course, where just the night before patrons had danced atop the bar.
Although the hot-hot supper club has only been open a scant few weeks, one girl was overheard whining to her friend in the bathroom: “Cynthia, I think this place was cooler when no one knew about it, y’know?”