(Continued...)

One might argue that such aplomb and mastery could qualify some of these gate-crashers for Oscar nominations themselves. Role playing certainly figures into much of the advice that the amateur thespians offer to would-be crashers. Acting is part of the game. Davis, though not considering himself a master of the craft, says, "I've done some [film] work. That comes in really handy." So does one of his favorite costumes. "I wear a cook's outfit, then I get 'lost' and go to the restroom and take that off." He carries a light change of clothing in a conveniently trendy man-purse.

Gate-crashers in Los Angeles make up an exclusive society that boasts perhaps 50 "really elite" members. "It's almost like the mafia" Young, who has been faking his way into fetes for almost 30 years, says that if he were to attempt the Vanity Fair party again this year, he would rent an L.A. fire marshal costume. "The people in charge are terrified of the fire marshals because they can close the party down in seconds," he says. In this case, he suggests wearing a tuxedo underneath. He explains: "As soon as you were in, you'd head straight for the toilets, get rid of the fire marshal costume, and then head back out into the party."

Reginald has resorted to embedding himself with news crews as a means of getting into Oscar events. "I literally barged into the places like I was commanding the ABC News crews and used them to get in." A nifty trick, but as Davis warns, these types of attention-getting tactics can backfire in the long run. Recognition is a risk repeat offenders take. "When it comes to a lot of the premieres, it's the same security people," he says. "If you do get busted, make a hasty retreat, because you don't want them to learn your face." Reginald has a different perspective on being a regular. He recommends legitimizing yourself by sporadically actually getting invited to events. "You can't just crash everything," he warns.

And so, some will save their best tricks for the most challenging evening of the year, Academy Awards night. "You've got to have serious balls," says Davis. Certainly, the fear and adrenaline rush are part of it. "The reason you crash a party is not to hang out with the stars," says Young. "It's all about outwitting the security personnel." When it comes to the Academy, Reginald warns amateurs not to try this at home, so to speak: "You've got to be really good to crash the Oscars."

Something of a gate-crashing snob, Reginald discourages bad apples and scene spoilers, recalling ugly incidents at the Golden Globes and other industry gatherings. He cites a particular crew of "bad party crashers" in the community, one of whom was tried in Beverly Hills criminal court for stealing 80 gift bags worth $500 apiece. Some of these swag hags are "E-fencers," as Reginald puts it: They obtain merchandise from Hollywood soirees and turn around and sell it on eBay, clearly lacking the sophistication and subtlety required to be members of the elite gate-crashing community. "I've had these people thrown out of parties, and they are parties I've crashed," says Reginald. After all, such unwelcome guests give gate-crashers a bad name.

Photos: "Pig at the Oscars" by Dafydd Jones; Rex Reginald with Brittany Murphy courtesy of StartraksPhoto.com; Richard Osterweil by Lia Troy; Scoobie Davis courtesy of Scoobie Davis; Toby Young courtesy of Toby Young; all others courtesy of GettyImages

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