OCTOBER IN PARIS

On October 20th, Bun-Bun dj'ed at the Van Cleef and Arpels 100th anniversary soiree in Paris. Held in a tent at the famous Tuileries garden, the event took 9 months to plan! When it gave birth, it was quite the do! Apparently, the day of the party, there was a run on Van Cleef's diamonds, presumably purchased for that evening's soiree! I was a long way from Chattanooga! Not be be outsparkled by the international socialites who can afford real gemstones, I ordered up a new frock festooned with rhinestones which were set uff by a platinum bouff-goes-the-bob, just for the occasion! And the size of my blinged-up ring certainly raised a few well-manicured eyebrows.

BUNNY MODELLING THE "HOPELESS" DIAMOND: VAN CLEEF AND WHO?





I was picked up by my visiting friends Sue Tilley (art model and author of the 1997 Leigh Bowery biography, THE LIFE AND TIMES OF AN ICON) and Erich Conrad (promoter of NYC's Beige and Sundays at the Maritime). Shooting the pix (since I lost mine immediately upon arriving at the party!) was my Wigstock partner/painter, Scott Lifshutz.

SCOTT "TOOK" ME FROM BEHIND WITH A RUSSIAN MOTHER/DAUGHTER SOCIALITE TEAM. I DESERVE A COUPLE POINTS JUST FOR HAULING THAT WIG OVER TO FRANCE IN GOOD CONDITION! (I DON'T THINK MANY FOLKS CARRY PLASTIC BAGS ONTO INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS CLASS SECTIONS!



The night began with a bang--the famed Lido showgirls, who dazzled the eye with whirling feathers and Vegas-y music which sounded like it was written 30 years ago--ie it was good music! An how can you lose with these outfits?



NOTHING QUITE SO IMAGINATIVE AS A RHINESTONED DUNCE CAP WITH A FREE-FROM LUCITE TIARA SPIRALLING AROUND IT!



AND A LUCITE VISOR TRIMMED IN RHINESTONES, WITH A MATCHING BIB? HEAVEN!



MY FREINDS MARTIN AND DIVA AVARI JOINED US. AVARI IS ONE OF MIZERY'S DRAG CHILDREN FROM BOSTON, BUT MOVED TO PARIS TO PURSUE A SINGING CAREER. AFTER A MINOR CLUB HIT 3 YEARS AGO CALLED YOU FUCKING BITCH, SHE'S NOW PROVED HERSELF AS A SINGER WITH A COVER OF YAZOO'S DON'T, WHICH HIT #2 ON THE FRENCH POP CHARTS RECENTLY.



After my gig was over, I moved in with Scott and Erich at a very unusual apartment on the Ile de la Cite which Scott inherited. It was the maid's quarter on the top floor of a home built by Louis Le Vau, the "architecte du Roi" who built the famous Hotel Lambert. (Yeah, I know. I hadn't heard of it either!) My bedroom had a view of the Seine river which was, well, just inseine!

I spent the rest of my 5 days unsucessfully avoiding delectable french desserts, though we did go out one night to B, B et B. This was a gay arab disco where they supposedly played arab house music. Unfortunately, they had switched to that vile reggaeton which I hate. The Folies Pigalle, where the night is held, is where Edith Piaf got her start. I wonder if she'd enjoy reggaeton?



THE SLUT ERICH MEETS UP WITH HIS FRIEND/BEIGE BARTENDER FALCON STAR GREG OF ALL PEOPLE!



It was the last night of Ramadan, so our sexy, exotic (Algerian/French?) guide Mehdi, wasn't sure if the place would be busy or not. But it was packed to the rafters and Bun-Bun was yanked up onstage to judge a strip/dance constest.



AND TO MY DISBELIEF, LARRY TEE WAS THE EMCEE! ACTAULLY HIS NAME IS FOUAD, BUT THERE IS A SLIGHT RESEMBLANCE.



Here are my fellow judges. Proving that shade is international, the gorgeous one in red, who could easily play a king of the Orient in nativity scene, was just as sullen as could be. He grudgingly agreed to a photo, and rolled his eyes at every contestant.



The winner was a fab dancer, who gagge the audience with a sissified, attitudey blend of voguing and crumping.



The french have not really discovered air conditioning and the place was boiling. So we hit the streets for a breath of fresh air. I narrowly averted a suicide car-bombing right outsie the club.



There's nothing like a near-death experince to work up one's appetite. With all the superb cuisine in the city of lights, it's tough to decide. But I always like to eat out at Pussy's.



Of course, The famed MOULIN ROUGE was nearby, so I just had to pose for a photo.

"NICOLE WHO?"



In the park adjacent to the Moulin Rouge, we encountered several horny young men who were visibly enticed by Le Bun-Bun, aka Mademoiselle Lapinette. Just doing my part for international relations.

STEP ASIDE CONDOLEEZZA! IT'S BUN-BUN WHO'S SOOTHING THE MUSLIM EXTREMUSTS--LICKING THEM ONE BY ONE!



Later on, some of our party wound up in an arab sex club. I'm told that there is one sex theatre where trannies go in search of manly arab trade. Mr. Pearl informed me that she'd once seen an ungainly, hunch-backed transvestite combing out her mangy wig in the corner. I had a "hunch" that somebody would recognize me in that dump!