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The Central Park Conservancy threw its Halloween Ball a day early, but that didn’t stop guests from dressing to the hilt. Debbie Bancroft bounced around in a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader uniform, performing moves she remembered from high school, with Chappy Morris channeling Emmitt Smith at her side. Fazle Husain came wrapped in furs as Dr. Zhivago, while Blair Husain, whose baby is due in a few weeks, played his glowing Laura.
“Yes, we planned my pregnancy around this party,” she joked.
This story first appeared in the November 4, 2002 issue of WWD. Subscribe Today.
For her part, brunette Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos showed off her alter-ego, coming as a bubbly blond nurse.
But the next night at Lot 61, it was the very blond Amy Sacco’s chance for role reversal as she donned a witchy black wig, while the wicked Rufus and Sally Albemarle vamped as a priest and a nun.
Still, the most daring costumes the social set could come up with paled in comparison to the stunning and surreal creations Susanne Bartsch’s club kids wore. They’re professionals, after all. Headless brides, spiders walking on four stilts, unicorns and one reveler done up as party monster Michael Alig packed into the new Copacabana.
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles Ivana Milicevic, Asia Argento, Kirsty Hume, Amy Fleetwood and Zooey Deschanel joined Jacqui Getty and Donovan Leitch for a frolic amongst the tombstones at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, final resting place of screen legends like Cecil B. DeMille and Rudolph Valentino. Vintage hound Liz Goldwyn slipped into a sexy number once worn by Jayne Mansfield, whose tombstone — not coffin — is planted there.
“It’s not exactly home, but it’ll do for the night,” said Getty, as her daughter Gia Coppola, a Sixties airline stewardess for the night, directed guests to the nearest entrance.
Inside Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley lounged in a tent across the dance floor from his ex, Patricia Arquette, and Ethan Hawke got steamed up, dirty dancing with some pretty young thing.
It was fabulous and freaky, just like the getup Rose McGowan wore: a slinky Thirties gown and a painted bullet hole on the forehead. What was she supposed to be?
“It’s the death of glamour,” McGowan declared.