Saturday night, in advance of the opening of "David Hockney Portraits" at LACMA, there was a reception on the museum's plaza, complete with fancy martinis (hence the long drink lines), an uninspired array of cheese and crackers and a thoroughly inappropriate hip-hop DJ. Don't party planners think the cocktail crowd can bear anything other than bumpin' beats? Granted, there was also a graffiti demonstration on the plaza by Mear One, but that too seemed an odd choice. David Hockney is not exactly a street artist; he paints most of his subjects in intimate, private spaces, using soft color fields and simple lines. His late '60s work is so prophetic of the '80s new wave it's kind of mind boggling, with zebra prints and palm trees, plate glass coffee tables rendered with cartoonish diagonal reflections, and a curvy mauve couch that would almost be cheesy if it wasn't most likely a deco original. The images may be California cool but you could easily think Miami, 1982, staring into the swirly blue depths of a swimming pool with a nice toned butt emerging from it. Of course Hockney isn't painting Don Johnson but his boyfriend Peter Schlesinger, then a UCLA art student. Hockney certainly had a slew of pretty boyfriends, and I found a new style icon in Celia Birtwell, the doll-faced fabric designer married to rock star clothier Ossie Clark. Hockney painted Birtwell repeatedly through the decades, and her early '70s look is completely contemporary: even the Kork-Ease platforms she's wearing in one drawing were relaunched this year and can be found at Fred Segal.     The crowd that was actually looking at the paintings was considerably more interesting than those who were preoccupied with two-fisting martinis. One fierce femme was head-to-toe in psychedelic green, right down to her eye shadow and the patent leather go-go boots she dyed herself. Another woman wore a circle skirt decorated with sequined skulls (I know skulls are totally done to death, no pun intended, but she made them work somehow) and gorgeous Miu Miu sandals with a toile print platform sole. Ladies will be relieved to know that the stiletto craze is officially on the decline; I think the barefoot woman carrying hers around would have to agree. Later I caught the end of the Peaches show at Little Radio. The nasty-as-she-wants-to-be diva is about to go on tour with Nine Inch Nails, and her kick ass backing band includes J.D. Samson from Le Tigre and drummer Samantha Maloney, who has played with Hole and Motley Crue. For her final number, "Rock & Roll," Peaches rocked a black superheroine cape emblazoned with a hot pink "XXX" – definitely the best fashion statement of the night. It's amazing how such a ferocious onstage goddess can turn into a regular, cute curly-haired girl when she steps off - albeit one who is wearing the tiniest pair of hot pants imaginable. The admirers milling around after the show included Katherine Moennig, who plays the beautiful butch hairdresser Shane on The L Word. I'm glad to report that her hair is back to its sexy first season shag, and she was dressed for the part in skinny low-slung jeans and a snug T-shirt – none of Shane's ill-advised neckties or upside down bird's nest 'dos in sight.

Hockney image courtesy of LACMAMr. and Mrs. Clark and Percy, 1970–71. Acrylic on canvas, 84 1/2 x 120 in., Tate. Presented by the Friends of the Tate Gallery, 1971 ©David Hockney. All rights reserved.

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