The dress code was emphatically casual, and so was the event — a bit startling when you consider La Liz’s lifelong penchant for glimmery theatricality. Her 40th birthday party, for example, was a pricey bash at a Budapest hotel; on her 50th, she commandeered a posh London restaurant. But though its sheer scale dwarfed her other birthdays, Liz Taylor’s 60th managed to be gloriously dumb and down to earth.
The thousand celebrants included not only all her children but representatives of every chapter of her life, from MGM to AmFAR. Here was an early costar like Roddy McDowall, there an ex-stepdaughter like Carrie Fisher. Michael Jackson didn’t make it, although Liz Smith wondered if he might have been in the Mickey Mouse suit. (A Disney spokesman doubted it: ”It takes a certain amount of training. Not just anyone can step into that suit.”) They all clambered onto the rides and scarfed down a buffet of pasta, barbecue, turkey hot dogs, and soft drinks-alcohol was served discreetly.
And Liz? Resplendent in a sequined jacket that made her look like the Queen of the Rhythm Nation mysteriously beamed into the land of Mickey and Goofy, her ever-loving young hubby by her side, she not only cut the cake, she took it.
Reporting by Jane Birnbaum and Jamie Diamond