Make-Up Is a Wake-Up to a Big Blast

Hubba-du, hubba-du, hubba-du . . . for the very first time, I’m at a loss for words. In all my years of trampling these messed-up streets for you ingrates, I’ve never seen anything like Make-Up’s first anniversary party, which raised the roof at the El Rey Theatre on Saturday.

In the eye of this glitter-trash hurricane was cool-as-a-cucumber Joseph Brooks, the O.G. man at the helm of so many historic Hollywood clubs, dashing about in white bondage pants and a sleeveless tee with a silver cross. Other notables who made it in (and honey, if you weren’t there by 10:30 p.m., you didn’t stand a chance): Ice T, dressed as a full-on pimp in a red fur coat and bowler hat; Ian Astbury of the Cult, who performed a few songs; 4 Non Blondes seductress Linda Perry, who rocked the house as the front-woman for 21st Century Zep, Make-Up’s new house band; and Alexis Arquette and Candyass--two of the finest luscious drag freakazoids to enchant planet Earth.

All this and a Terri King fashion show to boot, featuring old school punks dressed in post-mod fashions, along with men on stilts and trapezes. We’re still catching our breath. . . .

Speaking of surreal moments, there I was in the men’s room at Rick Calamaro’s Cyrano, reapplying my lipstick, when I heard the voice of my old friend, actor Laurence LeJohn (“Touched by an Angel”). He was giving me props for ducking into the men’s room in lieu of the ladies loo, which had a big ol’ line. But that was nothing compared to the entrance of Monica Lewinsky--to the restaurant, not the restroom. She obviously knows her way around town. Cyrano--which features drinkable Scorpions, troughs of rum punch with four straws and a floating gardenia--is the Monkey Bar for the Y2K.

That trough reference isn’t aimed at Miss Lewinsky, by the way. As designer Ricki Kline notes: “Rubenesque women are making a comeback.” You know we’ll see her at Make-Up next month.