Where We Draw the Line

The crowd at the newly reopened, popover-serving tea room in the Bullock’s Westwood store is pretty much what you’d expect.

An aging sorority sister, her frosted pageboy creased where a headband might have been, complains to Mom about a trying round of golf. An academic in Famolare sandals and stockings reads her way from soup to coffee at a table for one. We make a grocery list without so much as a tiny distraction.

Zzzzzzzzz .

What this place needs is some Hooters Girls! In case you hadn’t heard, these beer-serving babes--the Harvey Girls of the ‘90s--will be main dishes at the delicately named Hooters restaurant set to open soon in Westwood.

We’d be kind of embarrassed to wear a skintight tank shirt that says HOOTERS across the bosom . . . but then, we’d be embarrassed to wear sandals and pantyhose. Guess it’s all in the name of cultural diversity.

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As If We Needed Another Reason to Ignore His Silly Pronouncements: We were horrified this week by the sight of Mr. Blackwell picking his nose on a local morning TV show. Shouldn’t the guy just walk away from the game after that? But no. He went on to quote himself from a recent piece in TV Guide on the best- and worst-dressed TV stars.

Hosts Steve Edwards and Cindy Garvey, the pros that they are, didn’t gasp at Mr. Blackwell’s faux pas. We must admit, though, his unappetizing gesture did give us a chance to check out Mr. B’s giant diamond stud earring. How very tasteful.

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Coming to Cable Stations Near You: Spanning European pop culture “from the highbrow to the Lowenbrau” is a hot new British television show called “Eurotrash.” The local tabloids have dubbed it “the rudest show on British television.” Just how trashy is it? So far, the show’s covered a transvestite beauty contest in Italy, Bjorn Borg’s new line of designer underwear and nude golfing in France.

Clearly, the visuals might offend, but when it comes to the show’s level of discourse, it’s anybody’s guess. Designer Jean Paul Gaultier and actor Antoine de Caunes, the hosts of “Eurotrash,” speak with such thick French accents that we hear it’s impossible to understand a single trashy word.

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Surprise, It’s a Luxury Retail Establishment: Yves Saint Laurent and Co. wanted their new Rodeo Drive store to remain shrouded in mystery--literally--so they kept the entire facade covered till the last minute. The tarp was lifted at 3 a.m. last Friday so final touches could be completed, replaced and then lifted again later that morning for the press.

Inside the spare, all-white space, early morning browsers pored over clothes, shoes, menswear, jewelry and the only YSL facial salon outside Paris. A black-and-white portrait of the designer dominates one wall. “It’s tile,” shrieked one sharp-eyed observer. “I could have it on my kitchen floor!” We’d prefer the YSL red suede gillies--on our feet.

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Off the Scent: Rumors fly whenever Elizabeth Taylor cancels an appearance. She’s put on weight. No, she’s ill. But this time the actress is bowing out of a perfume promotional appearance Monday at Robinsons-May in the Glendale Galleria because of the Southland’s disastrous fires. According to a spokesman, Taylor is concerned that there are matters more important at this time than perfume.

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Do All of You Take This Man?: Emily Post never had to consider the complications that might arise when a channeler weds. At the recent New Age wedding of past-life regressor Verlaine Crawford, bridesmaids’ dresses ran the chakra gamut--blue, indigo, purple, rose, brown, red, gold and green. The time of the ceremony was determined by an astrologer. Afterward, musicians played indigenous instruments, and a “magic stone” was presented to bride and groom. According to a wedding guest, actor Bob Saget told fellow celebrants he remembered passing the green stone himself one time--through his kidneys.

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Around Town: A big so-what to Oliver Stone eating behind us at L.A. Farm. Same goes for Cyndi Lauper at the $4.99 Indian vegetarian buffet in Culver City. But Mariel Hemingway shopping alongside us at Bed, Bath & Beyond? Too cool . . . Heads turned as the Mount St. Mary’s girls basketball team loped through the opposing team’s hallways this week wearing the longest, baggiest shorts this side of a skateboard street course . . . The most commented-upon new perfume we’ve worn this season: 360 by Perry Ellis. Total strangers (all female, for some reason) stop and ask the name. Go figure.