`It's The Last Dance . . . ' -- The Prom You Never Went To Closes Out A 14-Year Tradition Of Fun, Friendship - And Fabulous Hair

"Oh my goodness!" gasped a young man upon first seeing Large Marge.

Indeed, Large Marge - all 6 feet 5 inches of burly splendiferousness (not counting her 3-inch blue-sequined heels and a foot-tall conical hat), drew gasps everywhere she walked in the halls of Lavender Valley High School.

Dressed in a blue-and-gold satin celestial-patterned gown ("It's a Bob Mackie outfit for Barbie," she explained. "I've always wanted to be Barbie."), Large Marge dazzled.

Sure, in the more mundane world, Large Marge is, more or less, an ordinary guy. But at The Prom You Never Went To, held Saturday night, Large Marge was royalty. Prom queen, to be exact.

Last year she was crowned. This year she was back, along with about 1,600 others to celebrate the last hurrah of the prom.

The prom, first held in 1983, has become an institution in Seattle's gay and lesbian community. Each year, for one night, the Mountaineers Club in Lower Queen Anne becomes Lavender Valley High School, Home of the Fighting Poodles. The rooms and hallways are turned into detention halls, auditoriums, teachers' lounges. And each year, revelers dance, look fabulous, and have much more fun than anyone ever had at their real high-school prom.

But the expense and effort of putting on the event and dwindling attendance have combined to make this the last year for the prom. Nevertheless, it was going to go with a bang.

"Oh my goodness, goodness!" exclaimed a 6-foot-tall man with a Mary Richards flip hairdo and cat-eye glasses, walking in the door. "Look at the crowd!"

There were the Auto Shop Boys, a group of guys in blue auto shop uniforms, balloons for breasts and bouffant hairdos a foot high and 3 feet long. There was Roger Keaton, a k a Zoya, up since 6 a.m. with two cans of hair spray to get her hair to stand up just so. And hundreds of others - ages 21 to 60-something, all races, gay, lesbian, straight, dressed in anything and everything, mingling in the damp, sweaty air that only hundreds of bodies mixed with cologne and hair-spray fumes can create.

"Very Stella Stevens," whispered one guy to a man in a purple sequined dress, as they passed on the stairs.

A choice of ambience

The promgoers danced in three rooms: the teacher's lounge, where a band played old-time rock 'n' roll; the multipurpose room where revelers danced to country-western tunes under huge wagon wheels and plastic chickens hung from the ceiling; and most of all, in the auditorium, where a pink plastic poodle spun atop a disco ball.

"This is the true flavor for what this community is," said a man in a mustard-yellow polyester shirt who identified himself as "Rutger, the exchange student from Germany." "We know how to put on a good show and have a good time."

"The prom provides an outlet to be creative, to relive high-school fantasies with a vengeance," said Randy Henson, 45, prom coordinator. "So many people have met each other at the prom, made friends here. There are incredible memories."

"I'm disappointed that this is the last prom," said Cherie, 47, who, with her partner, Carol, has been to four proms. "We don't really have another event that brings people together like this. The variety of people that come - they can just let go, be themselves, or be other people for a while."

"I love seeing friends here that maybe I'd see only once a year," said Jim "J.R." Richardson, 43, an airline worker, who has been to about six proms. "But it takes so much to put it on, considering how massive it is."

Apparently putting on a prom this tacky, this . . . lavender, takes a lot of work. To be precise, it takes a $556,000 budget, 300 volunteers and fund-raising events all year. Proceeds from the prom go to various charities.

"Even though it's a labor of love, it's more and more a labor," Henson said.

Renting the Mountaineers building has become more expensive following its recent remodeling. Several of those who have organized the prom in the past have died of AIDS and the younger generation is not as eager to organize the event, Henson said. Participation in the prom has also decreased from a peak of 2,000 people in 1991 to about 1,600 in the past few years.

A new queen

You wouldn't know it from looking, though. On the auditorium stage, Large Marge was taking her final walk as prom queen. The new - and last - Lavender Valley High prom queen was about to be crowned.

Amid great popping of flashbulbs and hoots and cheers, Ivana, a statuesque blonde in a leopard-print Scarlett O'Hara hoop dress, was crowned.

Ivana - nee Jaycen Kingsbury, 27, of Portland, clutched her queenly bouquet to her 24-inch waist. ("I haven't taken a breath since 7 p.m. - it's the corset and bustier," she later confided.)

And then the emcee was announcing: "For the last time at Lavender Valley High School: Team La Vanda!"

Drag queen La Vanda, all Ann-Margret red hair and bright purple dress, and her seven dancers took to the stage. They sashayed, tossed their hair, kicked, spun and shimmied to Donna Summer's "The Last Dance." The crowd pressed closer, cheering wildly.

"The Last Dance" played one more time. This time the crowd took to the stage, dancing and churning, spinning and laughing.

And finally . . . "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" came on. The dancers slowed down. Couples swayed. Friends hugged. And slowly, lingeringly, people began walking out the door.

The Auto Shop Boys held their bouffanted heads high as they strutted out, spraying Aqua Net onto each other's hair.

The disco lights went down, the regular lights went up. Prom volunteers began to take down the lavender and pink balloons.

Randy Henson's eyes gleamed as he sank into a chair, surveying the nearly empty auditorium from the balcony.

"This was the best," he said softly.