Life of the Afterparty
At Bloomberg's Big Bash, Fame's the Name of the Game

By Libby Copeland
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, May 1, 2006

Dear reader, come massage our tired feet and we will tell you a story, a story about cucumber-lime cocktails and teensy roast beef sandwiches, a story of red carpets and velvet ropes and bathrooms so well decorated you cannot find the stalls, a story about fame and almost-fame and famous-for-Washington, about peering into the darkness of a fabulous party and asking, "Hey, isn't that -- that woman? From that show?"

After the White House Correspondents' Association dinner comes the Bloomberg party, every year. So the heavens have decreed it and so it shall be. The heavens have added: Let there be plentiful liquor and plentiful cleavage. And so it is. There was also, this particular year, great drunkenness, great dancing, and this one long-haired dude who just got voted off "American Idol."

O fame! O greatness! There he was Saturday night, Ace Young -- he of the foppish curls and the smirk of a guy who's been getting a lot of love from the ladies. He was accompanied by older brother Ryan, who has the same foppish curls and the pleased look of a guy whose brother is suddenly famous and beloved by the ladies.

Ryan reported that at the dinner earlier some old lady came up to his brother and "dropped a kiss on his lips."

"Yeah, caught me off guard," Ace said.

Who was it?

"No idea." But Ace said he "definitely got a few" phone numbers.

Oh, yeah. We were aaall getting some action, except for those of us who weren't. We started to see the sheen of fame on lots of people, including some nobody we mistakenly thought was Somebody. We started to feel a little famous ourselves in our tuxes and halter-neck dresses, mingling with all these celebrities. Why, there's Comedy Central star Stephen Colbert, who roasted the president earlier at the dinner! There's the rapper Ludacris! There's that old lady from "Everybody Loves Raymond," whatever her name is! There's "Syriana" star Jeffrey Wright, who comes up behind Isaiah Washington from "Grey's Anatomy" and gooses him in the backside! Ha-ha! We get it!

There were plenty of famous-for-Washington types -- people whose work has a great effect on the nation and whom few outside the 202 area code would recognize: Justice Antonin Scalia, deposed FEMA head Michael Brown. (Let's call him Brownie instead; makes him sound like a rapper.)

What happens when semi-

famous-people-from-Hollywood

meet people-who-might-be-slightly-famous-for-Washington? Is one more powerful than the other? Or is it like matter meeting antimatter, and they both explode? Eighties glamourpuss Morgan Fairchild walks past a fellow who looks a lot like Time magazine reporter and Plamegate testimony-giver Matt Cooper, and their eyes meet. And then, just as suddenly -- their eyes unmeet.

Whoa!

Speaking of Morgan Fairchild, she teetered in on tall and spindly heels, walked past the Bloomberg stock ticker (that's sexy!) and into the main room of the party, where she surveyed the room and abruptly walked back out. Too loud and noisy in there. Plus, "my feet are killing me," she said, leaning against a wall because it hurts even to stand still. She teetered out. We know how you feel, Morgan.

This particular year, the setting for the Bloomberg afterparty was the Macedonian Embassy, a building distinguished by its proximity to the Hilton Washington, where the dinner is held. There are other afterparties, but Bloomberg has a reputation for being the best. Dick Keil, who covers the White House for Bloomberg News, said he got about 150 e-mails from people trying to enlist his help in getting in.

After the dinner, in which President Bush and a look-alike lampooned the president's malapropisms, and Colbert offered a mock tribute to Bush and his current troubles in Iraq and in the polls, the 750 or so people lucky enough to have received Bloomberg invites made their way over to the embassy, where they split into two camps: those who use the regular entrance and those who come in through the VIP entrance.

Who gets to go down the red carpet at an event like this, where every third person is slightly famous? A pretty young woman came dashing through the VIP tunnel, looking like some starlet who's going to be famous, though she's actually a reporter crashing the party by pretending to be famous. Handsome Adrian Fenty, who wants to be the city's next mayor, came in through the regular entrance and then, on the advice of a companion, left and came back along the red carpet.

We get it. You're famous if you say you are.

Inside the party, there were sheets of water falling from the ceiling. There was a video screen the length of the main room, showing snow, then sunshine, then lightning. There were DJs and a guy with a big drum set adding percussion. There were free slippers being given out that said the afterparty 06. It was hot and crowded and we could smell someone's deodorant. Degree.

We sampled many things in the interest of thorough reporting. There were beet chips and sandwiches with white bread the size of quarters. A repulsive snack of candied bacon. Playing Goldilocks, we tried the specialty drinks: pomegranate martini (too sweet), orange-infused vodka shot (too strong), apple-pear martini (just right!).

There was a bathroom area decorated like a rain forest, with bird sounds piped in and the ceiling and doors covered in moss and fresh orchids. The door handles were obscured by bark.

"Where is it? Where do I go?" asked a man looking for a stall and seeing only a wall of moss.

There were Joe Wilson and wife Valerie Plame, who said she's been spending a lot of time lately at home with their 6-year-old twins. She's quite beautiful, and we wondered who would play her in the movie. Wait, we know -- fabulous actress Patricia Clarkson, who happened to be standing out on the terrace! Near her were Kelly Carlson of "Nip/Tuck," smoking with her mom, and Maura Tierney of "ER," who kept noticing us staring at her. (You mean she can see us?)

There were various other notables, though we didn't sight any senior administration officials. There were politicians and pundits and people who make their living talking about matters of national importance and -- oh, darn if that wasn't a yawn.

We found ourselves chatting with Ann Klenk, a senior producer for "Hardball," the same woman we observed in the powder room during the correspondents' dinner leaving her daughter a voice mail saying she'd met the smirky Ace and some guy she kept calling "the actor from 'Hustle & Flow.' " So hard to keep track of all this fame!

Klenk predicted that her daughter would be jealous when she heard who Mom met. Anyway, "I'm going home now," she said, waving her free Bloomberg slippers triumphantly in the air.

Staff writers Roxanne Roberts, Amy Argetsinger and Lonnae O'Neal Parker contributed to this report.