In the fluorescent-lit community room of Westbeth Artist’s Community—an affordable haven for creatives in the West Village—a woman was cutting candelabra out of cardboard for the birthday party of the late Liberace. The over-the-top piano man would have been 90 on May 17, and what better excuse to get the old gang together?

“I did parties for 20 years with my friend [gossip writer and club promoter] Baird Jones,” said the host, red-bearded Steven “Hoop” Hooper. “He passed away last year, and this party is in that tradition.” His feather hat bobbed over his eyes, accentuating his shiny pants.

There was cake on a card table and plastic cups for wine. Artwork was scattered here and there, pieces by Michael Alig, Jack Kevorkian and Victoria Gotti.

Attendees were able to channel the gaudy spirit of Liberace at 6:30 on a Sunday and had dressed accordingly. “I’ll introduce you to Ivy [Nicholson],” Hoop said. “She was a model in the ‘50s, then was part of Warhol’s crowd. She married a couple of times, moved to France, lived in a castle... now she has a place in Staten Island.”

“One thing you should know if that I’m going blind and hard of hearing,” Nicholson informed me, “but at least I’m wearing these!” She lifted a leg to show hot pink stockings, worn under a long, lacy white dress.

A kilted gentleman named Edmund Allen de Lanaudiere Voyer presented an old-fashioned calling card, saying he was a knight and giving the history of his family since 877 A.D. It was like being at Alice’s tea party, with the Mad Hatter and all the rest. Was the warm pop spiked with Librium?

A crowd was gathered around the piano, singing “Happy Birthday.” Edging toward the open door, I made a break for it—before I could vanish down the rabbit hole.