The battle for the tiara.

L.A.'s famed, fabulous dragfest turned fund-raiser has fired its last rhinestone, Thank God for cameras

Not just a renowned drag-queen contest, the grassroots Battle for the Tiara has, in its last six years, rallied to raise $500,000 for the Los Angeles organization Aid for AIDS. Last year L.A.'s 2,200-seat Wiltern Theatre was filled to capacity when the event celebrated its tenth--and final--year with nine wildly dressed contestants vying for the rhinestone-studded head topper. The extravaganza had grown so fashionable, celebrities such as Seinfeld's Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Mitchell Anderson, and Opposite of Sex star Christina Ricci clamored to chime in as judges.

Pretty impressive considering this battle started with less than a bang in 1989. "My friends and I were sitting around playing cards in my sleazy little rent-control apartment one Friday night," recalls founder Alexis Pittman, a Beverly Hills hairdresser. "Someone said that the Miss America Pageant was on the next night, and someone else suggested we should all sit around in gowns and watch it. And then we decided, How about [wearing] bathing suits as well, and we'll make it a real contest?"

The evening proved to be such a bitchy hit that it became an annual event. By the third year the beauty-pageant spoof was forced to move to a bigger living room to accommodate the growing number of fans. Still, there were humbling moments. Pittman's neighbor Patrick Rush, a casting director, served as emcee because he was the only one with a tuxedo, and "color commentator" Dalton Robertson, an interior designer, put out a bucket with a DONATIONS FOR AIDS sign. The fund-raiser was born.

In an era when every city has activist fund-raisers thinly gowned in drag themes and even more cross-dressing extravaganzas posing as benefits, the Battle was an awkward ingenue in high heels. But as it sashayed into larger venues, the hair got bigger, the costumes got louder, and the competition got fiercer. "Miss New Jersey, Lasagna Buttafuco, was a crowd favorite but always a real pain in the ass backstage," says Rush, writer-producer for the event. "And Miss Washington, Starbucks St. Helens, flew through her whole number as Peter Pan."

All the while, the money spent on the lavish production numbers came from the contestants themselves. "Alexis and I had volunteered at [the American Foundation for AIDS Research] and [AIDS Project Los Angeles], and we were annoyed that those big events would raise a million dollars but cost that just to put it on," says Rush. "We wanted to do something that proved you could raise the money without spending it."

Of course, the plucky "let's put on a show" spirit of the pageant sometimes made for unforeseen surprises. "We never got to tech the show ahead of time," says Jeffrey Drew, better known to some as Miss Nevada, Lotta Slots. "I had to ride in on a camel, and he ended up going to the bathroom all over backstage just before my entrance. I took it as a good sign."

Sadly, the camel rides are over. Pittman is in poor health, and "there is no event without him," says Rush with a sigh. And, he adds, the dragfest has blossomed so far beyond its founders' expectations that this Tiara has grown too top-heavy to manage. But it's clear this is one battle that won't be forgotten. "It was really bitchy, but there was so much heart there," says Drew. "It's through the good times and the laughter that we remember all of our friends who have died." And thanks to the Battle for the Tiara, he says, "We'll keep on laughing and remembering."

Maynard contributes to Details, Cosmopolitan, and ABCNews.com.