FREE ENTERPRISE : To Wong Foo, Thanks for the Tupperware

“Any Tupperware virgins today?” asks Pam Teflon. Half the people in the Sherman Oaks living room respond. “We’ll have to burp you!” she squeals, referring to the air expelled from the trademark containers’ seals. Standing next to a towering table display of plastic products, Pam wears a coral chiffon gown, with lipstick and high heels to match. Looking like a perfect ‘50s throwbacksafety pin in her eyeglasses and false eyelashes slightly askewPam spreads out new catalogs and welcomes the 20-plus guests to the Tupperware party.

Pam Teflon is the creation of writer and actor Jeff Sumner, and for the last recorded quarter was the best-selling salesperson for Tupperware’s Los Angeles franchise. For Tupperware’s Pacific Region, he ranked seventh out of the company’s 8,000 “service consultants.” Best known for his one-person show, “The Eccentric Buffet,” in which he portrayed both men and women, Sumner, 31, got the idea of selling Tupperware in drag from his mom last spring. “It started as a joke,” he says. “I was tired of selling bonbons at Bloomingdale’s and making cappuccinos for celebs. I wanted to have fun with my character work. Believe it or not, Tupperware allows me to do that. Pam is performance art. She’s mid-America trying to be hip.”

As couples snack on chips and dip, Pam turns on a tape deck behind the Storzalot box and begins the presentation. “Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat/Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?” Lip-syncing to the “The Little Mermaid,” Pam slips off her glittery gloves and paddles through space with the award-winning Double Colander, its lock-lid becoming an oar, a fan, a mirror.

An immediate hit at gay Tupperware parties, Pam expanded into the ‘burbs and bigger audiences this fall, averaging three to four parties a week. “He puts on a real show,” says Leslie Boyd Bradley, co-owner of Tupperware’s L.A. franchise. “He has good product knowledge and excellent customer satisfaction. He works it like a real job. It’s a new twist, not just a gimmick. And he loves Tupperware.”

Today’s hostess snaps a shot of Pam. “Oh my, the paparazzi!” Pam responds, primping her platinum pageboy before leading the room in a cheer, “Gimme a T . . . gimme an UPPER . . . gimme a WARE!” She presents the hostess with a “Tupperware thank you”--”This classic Cereal Storer is item #570, found on page 33 for only $7.99.” Pages flip. Other gifts follow as Pam conducts a brief Tupperware trivia game (How do you suck up odors? Which object commonly found in a garage inspired Earl Tupper’s invention in the late ‘50s?)

“Now, normal party sales are $250, but as the top Tupperware consultant in L.A., mine average $500,” Pam informs the crowd. “Your hostess will get $70 of free goodies--and so can you. Wouldn’t you like me to come to your office?” Pam’s laughable hard-sell is such an obvious sendup that it transforms the audience into co-conspirators: By taking the pressure off purchasing, the humor increases sales. “People don’t just sit there and buy,” Jeff says. “They buy into Pam Teflon’s world. Her enthusiasm for Tupperware is contagious. She’s hysterical, and they like my legs.”