Oscar invite get lost in the mail? Expert party crashers on how to slip past the ultimate velvet rope

OPEN SESAME Do you know the magic words?

In 1974, 33-year-old sex shop proprietor Robert Opal made history. After counterfeiting a press pass and deftly navigating security, this industry outsider and total nobody gained backstage access to the most exclusive event in Hollywood, the Academy Awards. Not content to just soak up the star-studded atmosphere, when the debonair David Niven came on to introduce Elizabeth Taylor at the live taping, the mustachioed intruder ran across the stage naked, flashing a peace sign. After being apprehended by security, Opal was ushered backstage to meet the press corps, resulting in a brief brush with fame when he subsequently hit the talk show circuit. The nude gate-crasher's renown ultimately earned him a paid gig as a professional streaker at one of dancer Rudolf Nureyev's parties, but to a handful of hardcore, veteran party crashers, the incident has earned him something more; it's earned him the status of legend.

"The reason you crash a party is not to hang out with the stars; It's all about outwitting the security personnel"Opal's experience is a dream scenario for many top-tier party crashers—yes, there are tiers—who've turned this social sport into something of an art form. And though getting into the ceremony itself is something of a Mission: Impossible in a post-9/11 world, sneaking into exclusive Oscar after-parties can prove just as challenging. Would-be interlopers wear costumes, bring props, fabricate scenarios, hide behind overweight people or clusters of celebrities, and make scenes, all in the name of hobnobbing with the A-List—or rather, for the thrill of outsmarting some of the most well-regarded bouncers in the business. Shunned by the ice queen at the clipboard and relegated to bottom-feeder status in the social hierarchy, gate-crashers may be publicly mocked as party pariahs, but on another level they may well be the everyman heroes of the Bling Epoque.

SUPER STREAK Opal at the Oscars

According to Rex Reginald, the self-styled "King of the Party Crashers"—who claims that his story outline and party-crashing handbook were co-opted by New Line Cinema when they made the film Wedding Crashers—gate-crashers in Los Angeles make up an exclusive society that boasts perhaps 50 "really elite" members. "It's almost like the mafia," he says. "You have to be brought in and become a 'made' crasher."

Reginald's handbook features many ploys he's honed to perfection ("I have a trunk full of tricks, props that I've used"), but he attributes much of his track record to a sixth sense, knowing how to accurately survey a scene and spot its weaknesses. It's a talent that's gotten him into Elton John's and Jamie Foxx's post-Oscar bashes, among others. He even conned his way into the Playboy mansion (notorious for bouncing suspiciously zealous males) year after year, ultimately earning him official invites to the bachelor's lair. Certainly The Talented Mr. Ripley effect of going from interloper to inner-circle is a much-coveted consequence of party crashing. "I crashed Saudi Arabian Prince Abdul's birthday party in a castle in Bel Air and he ended up inviting me to live there for the summer," boasts Reginald.

Befriending hosts and guests is a pleasant by-product of gate-crashing, but it's sometimes also a survival method. "It's good to talk to somebody important if you can manage it. Then they think you're important, too," veteran New York party crasher/painter Richard Osterweil advises. This very tactic once saved his hide at a small movie premiere after-party for The Mirror Crack'd. Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and Kim Novak were among the 100 or so people invited to the intimate affair. "I knew I was being watched very carefully," he says, so he made a beeline for Ms. Novak and began a conversation about her latest passion. "When you're intently talking to Kim Novak about llamas, nobody's going to kick you out," he insists.