NYC mega party girl/promoter Susanne Bartsch ended her weekly summer season party On Top (at the Standard Hotel) with a HUGE turnout of NYC’s most stylish gurrrls…including Amanda Lepore, Michael Musto, Ebonee Excell, Leo Gugu, Darian Darling, William Noguchi, Celso Satori and more! Can’t wait til’ next summer! (Pics by Miha “MC” Kavčič)
Tag Archives: Amanda LePore
Living legend Amanda Lepore vamps to George Alley’s cover of “Doctor Doctor” as a madman hides behind a curtain with a straight razor, ready to attack. But who will end up killing whom? Shot by Marco Ovando. Possibly NSFW.
Amanda Lepore’s Instagram: “My hotel in Mexico City!!! #amandalepore #hotel #mexicocity #fourseasons #internatioalblondebombshell (Photo: Lady Bunny)
Instagram photos from the Jeremy Scott show (above): Terry Richardson sits with Iggy Azaelia, Nicki Minaj blows the designer a kiss, we have an arial view of two Jonas brothers, and Leigh Lezark manages a vague hint of a half-smile while sitting with a fellow Misshape, I don’t know his name (Also: I spy PAPER Magazine‘s Kim Hastreiter in the background!).
From the Blondes show (below): Johnny Weir poses with Amanda Lepore, Susanne Bartsch poses with Paris Hilton, Lady Bunion shares a seat with Miss Jay, Gazelle Paolo takes a selfie with Carmen Carrera, a pic of the models in their enormous round buns, and a pic of the bun table backstage looking like a gay pumpkin patch.
From top, left: Daughters of Devotion, Jodie Harsh, Gage of the Boone, Chase Holster, Jessica Love, Kyle Farmery and Amanda Lepore, David Terzian, and William Noguchi
I have a history of, shall we say, misfortune at Marquee. From nearly being toppled from a gogo box, to a blow-up doll debacle, to the most traumatic: The time a greasy stranger, as jealous as she was vicious, got low and bit me in the genitals. TWICE. Yet, week after week, I go back for more. Because it is simply the greatest night at the most decadent club in all Manhattan. Q Thursdays, the brainchild of the Holy Trinity of gay New York nightlife – Susanne Bartsch, Brandon Voss, and Patrick Crough – is the most fertile stomping grounds of downtown’s brightest stars, all reveling in the excess, all dancing underneath a disco ball the size of the moon. The crowd is mixed, in every sense: Gay and straight, fashion fags and muscle queens, Cindys and Naomis. Everyone, from everywhere, abandoning all inhibitions, having the time of their life. This is why people go out. This is why people move to New York. To get lost in the atmosphere, to find a new best friend over bottle service, to LIVE, in a way you can’t and won’t anywhere else.
So I expect to see you there every Thursday, even if I end up crucified or something.
Lepore does Monroe in “I Wanna Be Loved by Da Bop (Marilyn Monroe vs WTF!).” Click here for lots of pics, info, Pop Water, and other stuff. Amanda loves you.
There are those evenings where the event you’re going to is especially chic and fun and you think “Tonight I’m just going to relax, have a few glasses rosé, and not get sucked into anything too insane.” And then, of course, life happens, as it always does, and your night takes a very different turn.
My recollections aren’t very clear, but are as such: The Monocle Sundays, Patrick Duffy and Brandon Voss’ new early evening rooftop soiree at Sleep No More (the city’s hottest haunted hotel). Muscle boys and drag queens sipping champagne against overgrown shrubbery as the sun sets over the city. Juicy gogo boys in skimpy Victorian garb undulate to the music. Amanda Lepore throws her head back and laughs and I take the time to appreciate her beautiful neck (a part of her I believe many people don’t take the time to appreciate, distracted by her other more prominent attributes). Matthew Camp shows me his pubes. The most beautiful (and bossiest) woman in the world, Laura Devotion, takes me over to photographer Marco Ovando’s booth, tucked away under the privacy of sprawling ivy. He is sitting on what is essentially a puppy pile of muscle boys, dicks wagging in their designer sweats. He is the King of New York. There is talk of cerebral palsy. I do something stupid (ahem). Somehow it’s already midnight and they’re shutting down. I end up at Greenhouse. It’s boring, so glamour girl Mischa G whisks me over to Sway. It is the best place I have ever been. All I have ever wanted in this life is to be in a room decorated with Turkish tiles, filled with hip hop moguls, accessorized in Gucci sunglasses and bottles of Veuve, singing along to The Smiths and Jay Z. Bliss. A man puts a key to my nose. Then his friend repeats this action. Somehow I’m back at Greenhouse dancing to Rihanna while I grind my teeth. Cute. The puppy pile has reconvened in the VIP room. I can’t recall humping any of them, but I’m sure I must have. I am dragged to the smoking patio and the security guard yells at me for bringing my drink outside. I don’t even have a drink. I look at the sign for the Holland tunnel and then I stare at a beautiful woman. That’s the last thing I remember.
And then it’s off to work at 8 AM. Because underneath this tranny disaster exterior lies Mary Tyler Moore. Seriously.
(More pics after the jump) Continue reading
Telling the story of her store’s Warhol-like effect on pop culture and featuring every downtown legend ever including (but not limited to) Astro Erle, Richie Rich, Malik So Chic, Patrick McDonald, Perfidia, Paul Alexander, JoJo Americo, Susanne Bartsch, Andre J, Johnny Dynell, Field’s former visual director Artie Hach, Kenny Kenny, Amanda Lepore, Martine, Princess Diandra, Lauren Pine, Armen Ra, Codie Ravioli, Kenny Scharf, and Mother Chi Chi Valenti, this documentary (premiering this month at Frameline37: The San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival) promises to be the party of the year. (via Pop Mythology)