Even guest and model Amanda Lepore admitted the focus lay elsewhere. “Oh, I don’t know much about the show,” she said demurely. Standing there in her silver Louboutins, tiny dress and enormous breasts, Ms. Lepore made sure our focus wasn’t on her clothes, either. When asked what her role in the show would be she answered, “celebrity model.” Was this her first show? A smile, a breathy laugh. “No, this is not my first show.”
Amanda wasn’t the only blonde, big-breasted catwalk veteran at the show. Pamela Anderson was slated to appear, but as time ticked on there was neither hide not platinum hair of her. And time continued on, to the chagrin of the backstage manager who frantically demanded a timeframe.
At first, the bizarre surroundings in Amnesia, a large industrial club on 29th St created camaraderie amongst the guests. Bottles were passed around, the popping of champagne was universally celebrated and everyone was happy to talk to anyone. The silk dancers became as famous as the starlets. In a startling contrast, the absurd gaudiness of the show cut through the pretense of celebrity and status. As though Rich was able to take pretense full circle until it inspired honesty.
