“Oh my God – I can’t see through it, and it’s got buttons!” - Über-composer Marc Shaiman expressed his surprise at my attire for the Hairspray premiere in N.Y.C. Everyone’s used to me looking like a cheap whore in my trademark translucent shirts. I thought it was important to prove that I can look sexy even in a suit.

No one likes to make bitchy comments more than moi. But, after seeing the film version of Hairspray, I can’t find a single thing to bitch about. I love this musical by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman, and was sure the film version would be a letdown on some level. How wrong I was. If anything, it reaffirmed my admiration for the glorious score, and it’s never sounded better. Yes, I had some trepidation regarding the casting, but by the final credits (accompanied by the sexy Aimee Allen singing “Cooties”), I realized I bought it all – hook, line and sinker. If anything, this movie makes me want to go and see the stage show again … which is what people are doing, since business for the Broadway production is through the roof.

I enjoyed walking into the premiere on the arm of the dashing Jerry Mitchell (more about him later) and lawyer to the stars, Mark Sendroff. We were right behind Liza, who was posing with the adorable leading lady, Nikki Blonsky. All of the film’s stars had their moment in the sun, and others like Paula Abdul, Nathan Lane, Bernadette Peters, Barbara Cook, Lisa Rinna, Harry Hamlin, Linda Hart, Darlene Love and Clive Davis joined in the ovation after each number on the screen of the Ziegfeld Theatre. Lance Bass, who joins the Broadway cast next month, was there. It’s nice to see he hasn’t dumped beard to the would-be star, Jamie Lynn Sigler, since coming out. I’m still not sure what Ralph Macchio was doing there, but the Scientology angle surely is what brought out a stag Katie Holmes – that and the fact that she’s lobbying hard to be cast in the film version of Nine.

At the party, I cozied up to leading man Zac Efron, who is cuter and less girly in person. (There’s a compliment in there somewhere; you’ve just gotta look for it.) However, original Broadway “Link,” Matt Morrison, had me at “Hello” when he snuck up on me from behind. Jimmy Marsden couldn’t be more dreamy – to say nothing of genuine, friendly and sexy as all get-out (whatever that means). The night was complete when the uproarious Sherri Shepherd said she’d heard of me. Now if “The View” would just hire her.

Back to Jerry Mitchell (who I think was trying to get me drunk. Little did he know, he didn’t have to try very hard). This multi-talented man is not only a dancer, director and choreographer – he’s also the brains behind “Broadway Bares,” the annual fund-raiser for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Back when he bared his buns in the Will Rodgers Follies, he and a group of buddies headed down to Splash (a hot gay club) and go-go danced for dollars. That was the genesis of this annual event that many critics call the best show in town. Now Vegas has beckoned and rumor has it “Broadway Bares” will head to Sin City under the name “Peep Show.” It may not happen for a year, but I can wait.

We’ll bring the column full circle. The Broadway musical Xanadu recently opened at the Helen Hayes Theatre. (She must be rolling over in her grave.) Reviews have been mixed, but the box office is doing record-breaking business. But the cast ain’t complacent. The whole damn troupe is heading down to, you guessed it, Splash, where they will perform a number of songs on July 23. The more things change….

Joan Collins is making it “Krystle” clear that her time on the road with Linda Evans was a living hell. She’s released the diary she kept during the national tour of Legends!, excerpts of which have been published in the Daily Mail (that U.K. rag) and, oh, it’s juicy. Let me share some of the naughty bits:

Joan’s first rehearsal with Linda, whom she refers to as “Lips” Evans: “She also has the weirdest collagen-enhanced lips I’ve ever seen. In fact, she epitomizes the expression ‘trout pout,’ with those huge lips that make her look like a gargoyle when she smiles. It’s quite off-putting to have to look at that face, which used to be so pretty, and pretend not to notice. Everyone who sees Linda is shocked by how she’s spoiled her looks.”

Regarding a script alteration: “They’ve cut one of my lines – when I re-enter holding Linda’s wig and laughing: ‘Plastic hair, plastic face.’ No one’s ever objected to this before. But, apparently, it’s a touch too close for comfort.”

On Evans’ acting ability: “You could leave the theater and have a three-course dinner during the pauses that Linda leaves between her lines … She’s always talking about ‘motivation’ and the ‘objective of the scene’ – as if she’s Dame Edith Evans and the play is Tolstoy.”

Speaking of Joan, Miss Rivers has been working on a new play, and she’s going to debut it in San Francisco. No fool, Auntie Joan – she knows her audience. The show, which is untitled, will play the Magic Theatre from Aug. 21 through Sept. 2. Maybe at one point Joanie will pull a rabbit out of some creative crevice.

A bit further down the coast, David Beckham and Posh Spice are settling into L.A. living quite well judging from the spread in a recent issue of W. It’s nice to know that the change of location hasn’t altered their habits. Davey still likes to lounge around the pool in his itty, bitty white Speedo.

Our “Ask Billy” question comes from Jerry in Houston: “I was watching a show about Gore Vidal and they showed a photo of him sitting outside, and a gorgeous naked guy was walking out of a swimming pool. Who is the guy? I know this is vague, but I’d love it if you could track down this photo?

Did you know Gore Vidal is Al Gore’s cousin? Just a little tidbit before I get to the meat of the question. Jerry didn’t give me much to go on, but I searched high and low and came up with the photo that ran in an Italian publication. The model in question is the ever-popular Chad White, whose photos seem to be everywhere.

As an aside, I’ve always wondered if Gore was related to Maria Vidal, who had a minor hit in the ’80s with “Body Rock.” I loved that song – maybe I’ll illegally download it from somewhere in Uzbekistan.

Could it be that a certain hoofer who has higher hopes has dumped his long-suffering beau? I suppose it wasn’t a big transition – it’s not like he was faithful or anything. But that promise of big things to come didn’t pan out, so he’s looking elsewhere. He might want to take up one of the offers he’s gotten from numerous gay porn companies that will pay big bucks to immortalize his power bottom status.

When I’m dressing my age, it’s definitely time to end yet another column. You can drop a note to me at billy@billymasters.com, and I promise to get back to you before I tell you where you plug in a “power bottom” (answer: anywhere you’d like). Until next time, remember, one man’s filth is another man’s bible.