Chris March was tossed off Project Runway, then went on to lose their all-star season, but he's bouncing back with a vengeance. His book I [Heart] Chris March is about to be released, and he celebrated at Greenhouse last night with the best party I've been to in years. It was amazing: one minute the place was half-empty and the DJ spinning those tired Verve Remixed tunes, and literally a minute later there was a drag queen flailing on every banquette and a bass-heavy Ting Tings remix making the walls shake. I realized something on a great New Year's Eve in Paris: when there are people dancing places other than the floor, you are at a good party.

Last night there was dancing on every horizontal surface, from the tables to the chairs to the bar. In fact, if you stood up for more than two seconds your seat would probably be usurped by a hairy-chested dude in a woman's bikini gyrating crazily and punching holes in the vinyl with his stilettos.

The crowd was almost entirely male, and I'd guess there were more Pat Robertson fans than people in gender-appropriate clothing. There were men dressed as women dressed as men dressed as kitchen appliances. There were three men dressed as Victorian ladies but with makeup straight out of Blade Runner. Berlin's version of Mary Poppins came complete with parasol, corset, and gaping holes in her stockings. There was Wilma Flintstone on a drug bender, with sallow eyes and one-shouldered dress, glassy-eyed and absent-mindedly chewing on her giant pearls. Balancing all that estrogen was a nice selection of male drag, including a lumberjack who danced totally in character and a guy who looked like Ashton Kutcher in shirtless French sailor drag.

Today my head is spinning and my ears are ringing, but I had to send a shout-out to Chris to thank him. The book is absolutely terrific, and if you've ever wondered how to work giant pretzels or Chinese take-out containers into your wardrobe, it's the first place to go.