L.A. Scene is a monthly column that chronicles lesbian nightlife and events of interest in Los Angeles. Sarah Witness, an East Coast transplant and obvious femme, has been navigating the snark infested waters of Hollywood since 2001. Although she’s an NYU trained actress, she prefers sipping vodka and making idle chit-chat at really gay nightclubs.
Dinah Shore Weekend
I’m making a pie right now. I’ve never made one before. I’m trying to trick my girlfriend into marrying me. This is the result of Dinah Shore weekend. It’s a jungle out there ladies.
I wasn’t going to go to Dinah this year because I should really respect my liver once in a while. At the last minute though, I figured, why start now? Several promoters host parties during Dinah Shore Weekend, with Club Skirts and Girl Bar being the big two. Revelers are free to go back and forth, but typically people just buy an all-access pass to one or the other and stay put.
This was my second year at The Dinah and again I chose Club Skirts. This year they stationed themselves at The Hilton Palm Springs Resort. I opted out of staying there because last year I learned that having herds of inebriated women galloping through the halls of your hotel loses its charm around 4 a.m. Best to have an escape plan.
I got in late Friday night and headed over to the Convention Center to attend the infamous White Party. That’s when I saw it. The one thing more glorious than thousands of lesbians clad in that most unflattering color. A casino. Ask someone else how the white party was.
For me, nothing says fun like a windowless room full of elderly people in track suits. Also, the drinks are free. I sent a mass text to the gang at the Convention Center, alerting them to the “real party,” and hunkered down at the nickel slots. In no time Erin Foley, Nicol Paone, Fortune Feimster, and Dara Nai showed up, still decked out in Dinah lanyards. We gambled until 2 a.m., then consumed a truckload of nachos.
I propose Dinah 2011 be housed at the casino. There’s more than one way to lose your shirt in Palm Springs ladies. Who’s in?
On Saturday morning I headed over to the Hilton. I parked at the casino because it was free. Oh, would you look at that? I had to walk through the casino so I’d look like a customer.
A few hours later, I made it to the hotel. I was greeted by a sea of madras shorts and bikini tops. One woman wore only duct tape, for modesty. Someone was trying to perform on one of the stages but had just discovered her whip had been stolen. Chaos ensued.
Fortune Feimster came by and instantly attracted a bevy of tan girls in bikinis. One girl made herself comfortable on Fortune’s lap. Good times.