Tonight, Amanda Lepore will strut her stuff at the Heatherette show under the tents at Bryant Park. Unlike most of the models who swarm into town for Fashion Week only to clomp along bearing fiercely blank expressions, Ms. Lepore will vamp and swing her hips – her extreme hourglass figure perfect for displaying the over-the-top confections stitched by her friends Richie Rich and Traver Rains. Last season, she returned again, again – and again – to the row of photographers stationed at the end of the catwalk to pose, pose, pose.

Another pouty-lipped platinum blonde may grace the Heatherette invitation this time around- Paris Hilton – but no one quite embodies the New York nightlife-loving crowd like Ms. Lepore. (She was once on a poster-size invitation lying horizontally in the furled trunk of an elephant.)

Contrary to her larger-than-life presence at clubs or on the runway, Ms. Lepore’s room at the East Village’s chic Hotel 17 is remarkably small. She says she likes it because she doesn’t have to clean the bathroom.

The wallpaper, lighting, paintings, and furniture seem plucked directly from a bohemian salon of 1920s Paris. A tiny sink and mirror stand in the corner by her vanity, and three dark wood chests of drawers contain her numerous neatly arranged wigs, fur wraps, and lingerie, as well as mountains of sparkling jewelry. Endless boxes of shoes are meticulously piled on shelves above the bed and hidden behind a leopard skin curtain.

On top of one dresser are her perfumes. One named after her, Amanda 22, was concocted by Christophe Laudamiel and contains champagne. Covered in an embroidered red bedspread and a mountain of pillows decorated with glittery bows, the bed is also quite small. Indeed, so is Ms. Lepore. Even in a towering wig and 5-inch stilettos, she still stands less than 6 feet tall.

And despite her media-savvy mind, fierce eye for aesthetics, and regular appearances in various social pages, Ms. Lepore maintains she has never thought of plastic surgery as a means to draw attention to herself.

“I was just trying to make myself more beautiful and didn’t realize that I might be over the top. I thought Jayne Mansfield and Marilyn Monroe were so beautiful, so I transformed myself to look more like them,” she said. “It wasn’t until I arrived in New York City after leaving my husband that people stood and stared at me. I was always quite striking to look at anyway.”

Yes, she was once married and living as a suburban housewife in New Jersey. When Amanda was 15-year-old Armand (on irregular hormone treatments), her then-boyfriend’s family offered to take her in. She took them up on the offer and also quit school.

“My boyfriend’s father felt sorry for me, so he paid for my sex-change operation. Later, I married my boyfriend and was so happy,” Ms. Lepore recalled. “I was finally living as a woman.”

After the initial newlywed bliss subsided, boredom set in. Ms. Lepore’s husband insisted it would cause a scandal if she took a job in their quiet suburb of Bergenfield, N.J., and he forbid her to work. She stayed at home, left to her own devices. She wandered aimlessly through the house with nothing to do but conceive of future aesthetic perfection.

Countless operations later (including three breast implants, rhinoplasty, silicone implants in her cheeks, forehead, hips, and buttocks, an eye tilt, forehead lift, hairline lowering, and the breaking of her lower ribs to slim her waistline), Ms. Lepore says she no longer needs to change her appearance – apart from routine maintenance. Her slim legs and hips support an impossibly buxom chest. Her face is completely smooth with immense exaggerated lips and high imposing cheekbones, and her almond-shaped eyes are accentuated by long, fluttering black eyelashes.

While she recently released a dance single, it’s her physique that continues to leave the deepest impression on whomever she meets. Photographer David LaChapelle heralds her as his muse, and Ms. Lepore is quick to sing his praises as well.

“David told me he had spent ages drawing figures of women who looked like me before we met. When we met, we both felt a strong connection between us,” she said. “He helps push my boundaries better than anyone else.” He in turn has called her “the Marilyn Monroe of transsexuals.”

Her relationship with Mr. LaChappelle has spawned numerous aesthetic ventures. In late 2003, Montblanc commissioned him to create an artwork for their flagship store in New York. The finished product was a 10-foot-tall, 7-foot-wide, 882-pound sculpture of Ms. Lepore as Marilyn Monroe in Warhol’s famous silk-screen rendering. He also shot that circus-themed Heatherette fashion show invitation.

At 10:30 p.m. on a recent Wednesday, she appeared onstage at the West Village’s XL bar in a light gold satin slip with matching gloves, stockings, and sky-high heels. She performs as a game show hostess there opposite Heatherette’s Mr. Rich. Their dialogue is comfortable and well rehearsed. Mr. Rich dares her to take off her dress. Suddenly she is wearing nothing but her heels and is running up and down the stairs of the club. Her facial expression barely changes.

Ms. Lepore and Mr. Rich share a bond that dates to hard-partying years when they ran with a crowd that included promoter Michael Alig. In the early 1990s, they ruled the city after dark and were celebrated for their elaborate costumes and general excess. The scene darkened when Alig murdered drug dealer Angel Melendez and was sentenced to prison in 1996.

Ms. Lepore was hired by Alig to perform at his parties, but she maintains she was never involved in the drug aspect of the culture.

“It would have been impossible for me to take all those drugs and still manage to look the way I do,” she said. “The amount of shopping alone takes up hours.”