On the tip of Cahuenga Boulevard in Hollywood, beyond the vape-scented sidewalks and partygoers waiting for their ride-shares, there’s a velvet-roped portal to another dimension. Every first Saturday of the month, those in the know gather at the historic Spotlight nightclub for Simon Says, the city’s most daring, avant-garde LGBTQ+ party.

It’s a scene that defies easy description: Nipple tassels twirl beside kabuki-painted faces; “My Fair Lady” hats tilt above bodices constructed from yellow caution tape; liberty spike hairstyles collide with exposed flesh; and professional dommes in fishnet bodysuits playfully flog (with permission) their friends while goddesses with antlers sip drinks on velvet couches wedged between potted palms.

This isn’t Studio 54, though it shares the same spirit. It’s Hollywood reimagined. And if Simon Says, you’d better bring it.

Seductively clad dancers, including longtime host Love Bailey, flank the stage where DJs spin a fusion of New Wave, late-stage disco and early bloghouse that attracts L.A.’s queer creative underground. It’s not uncommon for celebrities like singer-songwriter Adam Lambert, electronic-pop star Slayyyter, queer streaming network co-founder Damian Pelliccione, contestants from “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and film director John Waters to pop by for a visit.

The vast majority of attendees identify as LGBTQ+, and while the door is technically open to all, it’s the ones who show up transformed — glistening, feathered, glammed out — who are whisked in the quickest. Founder and executive producer Andrés Rigal, part master of ceremonies and part fairy godmother, prowls the line, handpicking the most striking attendees and sending them past the bouncer with a nod and a smile.

Reese Rush and Andrés Rigal.

(Chiara Alexa / For The Times)

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“We do run an old-school nightlife door, rewarding those who show up in stunning looks,” Rigal says. “If they’re wearing an elaborate costume they’ve been gluing together all week just to be at Simon or are a trans person all the way in the back by themselves in heels — ouch — I will give them that special moment and make them feel seen.”

Rigal is one of Los Angeles’ most prolific nightlife producers, with a reputation that precedes him. Numerous Simon Says attendees told The Times that they initially came to the party simply because they saw Rigal’s name on the flier.

Cassie Carpenter, an entertainment reporter who identifies as asexual, makes it a point to attend every event Rigal puts on. Dressed in a revealing keyhole dress and towering beehive wig, Carpenter comes to Simon Says for the ambience and the chance to dress in drag.

Cassie Carpenter.

(Chiara Alexa / For The Times)

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“I hate to get in full glam for a subpar party; it’s a waste of lip gloss,” she says. “Simon Says is always worth it. I’ve met amazing people and ran into surprising old friends. Friendship is everything when you’re asexual.”

Mostly known for large-scale fêtes that attract the likes of Katy Perry, Kesha and Paris Hilton, Rigal has been a feature in the city’s queer party scene since the mid-2000s when he revamped Avalon’s former Spider Club into the boho-chic nightclub Bardot and unveiled one of the city’s longest-running and most popular Pride events, SummerTramp.

If Simon Says sounds familiar, it’s because it had a short-lived moment in 2012 when Rigal’s company, Andrés Rigal Presents, introduced it at the now-closed A-lister club Smoke & Mirrors.

Grasping onto the coattails of the waning mid-aughts, Simon Says failed to conjure much interest at the time. Rigal thinks it might have been too early to cash in on the hipster-indie-sleaze era, as “everyone was still coming out of their American Apparel hangover.” Simultaneously juggling a number of other events such as Evita, Rasputin and Mr. Black, Rigal decided to shelve Simon Says for the time being.

Toward the end of 2023, pining for a more intimate party that wouldn’t draw crowds in the thousands, Rigal discussed reviving Simon Says with his partners Daisy O’Dell, Sean Patrick and Mark Hunter. An opportunity to host it at the Spotlight, a new Hollywood club housed in the bones of one of L.A.’s oldest gay bars, presented itself, and the party kicked off at the beginning of last year.

On Saturday, Simon Says will celebrate its one-year anniversary, with music by Felix Da Housecat and house DJs Patrick and O’Dell.

The small-capacity venue sees around 700 partygoers through each night, each of whom pays $10 to dance from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m.

Motivation for guests to arrive early comes in the form of a limited-edition zine that may contain a photo of people from the previous month’s event.

Co-founder Hunter, better known as the photographer Cobrasnake, has compiled these tactile time capsules printed in black-and-white since Simon Says’ first iteration in 2012. The goal is to highlight the party’s best-dressed guests. As the back of the zines say: “Turn a look, get in the book.” Although the zine is free, only a handful are printed, scattered around the venue at the start of each night, and you won’t know if you’re in the zine until you look through it.

Queer fashion designer Drew Arvizu, 25, has attended all but two of Simon Says’ events in the last year. He’s become a party fixture not just due to his regular attendance but because of the over-the-top bespoke outfits he dons.

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1. Drew Arvizu. 2. Colin Campbell, left, Drew Arvizu and Pat Posey holding a Simon Says zine. (Chiara Alexa / For The Times)

For the inaugural Simon Says, he wore a horned luchador mask and polka dot clown suit; in November 2024, he balanced a four-foot, 20- to 30-pound vintage Las Vegas showgirl headdress atop his head; and in March 2025, he flaunted one of his own creations: a floor-length yellow taxicab-checked tube dress with intentional cutouts across the breasts and groin area.

“Simon Says reminds me of why I love nightlife, and it’s definitely an incentive to pull out my sewing machine,” Arvizu says. “These zines are keepsakes from a moment in my life, and I hope I keep them forever.”

Christian Morris, a pansexual, nonbinary artist from Inglewood, attended his first Simon Says in March dressed in a tiger stripe suit, blond mullet wig and Aladdin Sane-inspired lightning bolt face makeup. Describing the event as “feeling plugged into a queer power source,” Morris noticed the partygoers didn’t just want to go to the event; they wanted to be the event.

Christian Morris.

(Chiara Alexa / For The Times)

“From the leather and chain looks to the queens in long black and yellow spiral dresses to the woman dancing on a speaker in a gold sequin romper outfit, everywhere I looked people felt hot and haute and danced with abandon,” he says.

And apparently, miracles can happen at Simon Says. Despite hardly ever meeting romantic partners on nights out, Morris left with the phone number of a “funny, super smart, sexy” crush he met on the dance floor, and the two scheduled a picnic date for the following week.

An element of romance permeates the Spotlight’s interior, with an intimate dance space and a sumptuous lounge area outfitted with Persian rugs, Victorian-style furniture and steam trunks that double as coffee tables. Also, there’s no need to leave your drink behind or grab your coat if you want a quick nicotine pick-me-up when you’re at Simon Says. Thanks to a grandfathered-in back patio, which includes the venue’s second bar, one can smoke indoors because the area doesn’t have a roof.

“Being in the space just makes me feel at home with the couches, the rugs on the dance floor and the fact that you can often find a place to sit even if you’re not paying for bottles,” says pop musician Morganne Yambrovich, 27, who came to Simon Says in March to celebrate her first night out after ending an eight-year relationship.

To mark this transformation and get back in touch with a creative side she’d kept dormant during her relationship, Yambrovich spent six hours wrapping craft wire around hair extensions to create her look for Simon Says. The resulting piece was a pair of butterfly wings braided into her hair intended to symbolize her recent metamorphosis.

“If you go out in certain neighborhoods, everyone’s going to look the same. But there’s no such uniform at Simon Says,” she says. “Most people show up in the most creative expressions of themselves. For instance, I would not wear a giant hair sculpture and butterfly makeup to Tenants of the Trees [a bar in Silver Lake].”

As the adage goes, those who turn a look probably will get into Simon Says’ book, but those who don’t quite turn a look will still get into the party. That’s because the event is about inspiring others as much as it is creating a safe space for self-expression. On any given night, you’re likely to find three generations of partygoers at the club — Gen Z, millennials and Gen X — and yes, straight people are welcomed with open arms.

“Once we gather under the disco ball, identities blur,” Rigal says. “On the dance floor, we become something shared, something bigger.”

Rigal and his team make a point of meeting with security and staff before every event to ensure that the ethos of welcoming all is maintained throughout the night. Although the bathrooms are divided by gender — and marked with Basquiat-style dinosaur imagery — on the nights when Simon Says takes over the Spotlight, those designations are ignored, and the toilets become unisex. There are no VIP sections either, and while it can get chaotic, everyone is allowed on the stage. When this reporter descended the stage stairs to the dance floor, a security guard offered their hand for support.

“It’s kind of like making a salad,” Rigal says. “The more ingredients touching one another, the better. I want all of my spaces, especially Simon, to be melting pots of interaction. When you allow the space to be free, you are more likely to have these really incredible moments, and I don’t want to rob anyone of that.”

In recent months, some Simon Says attendees have funneled political statements into their fashions. Longtime friends Colin Campbell, 63, and Pat Posey, 46, coordinated red and black looks for a recent party. Posey wore a mini dress featuring the colorway, while Campbell dyed his beard red and black and donned a red and black pigtail wig and shirt with the slogan “Resist Fascism.”

After the November presidential election, the friends experienced their first hate crime in Hollywood when a car passing by shot them with airsoft pellets and yelled a gay slur. Now more than ever, Campbell and Posey stress the importance of being visible and fighting back, and fashion is their chosen vehicle for doing so.

“We dance to celebrate ourselves, to recharge our batteries, to have the energy to put up with the ignorance and hate that is spewed at us every day,” says Posey, who started cross-dressing after moving to L.A. six years ago. “At Simon Says, everyone is welcome. Bring your true freak, and let it fly.”

Inspired by Campbell and Posey, to whom he has grown close through Simon Says, Arvizu has started imbuing political messages into his clothing as well. For a recent red-carpet event, he wore a shirt with the message “Protect trans youth,” and at the December Simon Says party, he dressed in rainbow from head to toe.

As the 2001 Basement Jaxx tune “Where’s Your Head at” thumped through the speakers at the March event, one partygoer dressed as a cowboy initiated a spontaneous dance-off with another partygoer dressed in a vintage Vietnam War vet uniform.

“Work it out, work it out!” cheered the cowboy, Ricardo Logan, 36, who included light blue in his outfit for trans solidarity.

His dance partner, tax and accounting professional Omarr Herrera, 44, a stranger until this moment, gurgled back, “Ahhhh, I love you!”

It’s moments like these that remind Rigal why he created this party.

“Queer nightlife is a sanctuary,” he says. “For the kid arriving in L.A. from a conservative hometown, for someone pushed out of their family, for the dreamers and the outcasts — this is where they find kinship, voice and vision. That metamorphosis is the heartbeat of everything I do.”