WHEN IT COMES to classic sports figures, nothing can match ...

And, omigod, it's Greg Raposo signing copies of his new self-titled CD?and if you don't know Greg Raposo, then you've missed the best boy-band scandal of the past few years. As a member of Dream Street, Raposo had his career interrupted when the boys' collective parents stepped in to break up the band. Or, as his mom MaryAnn tells me, "My son had a wonderful reputation in the industry, and when we found out his producers were involved in pornography?well, no money or fame was worth it."

If Britney's mother had the same high standards, nobody would have a single memory of this year's VMAs. But don't mourn for Greg, since his indie album is already getting airplay on Radio Disney?keeping it real in a business where people still introduce themselves by asking, "Keepin' it real?"

Raposo's made a pretty great record, too, with one bad ballad outranked by plenty of genuine power-pop. But, for now, the real money is still in flushed young girls handing Raposo their cellphones so he can call their friends still trapped in the first day of school. Actually, Raposo's audience tends to skew slightly older. Either that, or fluoride is doing amazing things to our daughters.

But keep that thought to yourself, short eyes, since my own hankering for older women soon has me off to Bloomingdale's. That's probably an everyday event for some fetishists, but I'm specifically attending the opening of the Burberry Accessory Shop, doubling as a fundraiser for Safe Horizon, a non-profit that provides support and sanctuary for victims of crime and abuse.

There's also the greater cause of what's been promised as a "London Mod cocktail reception." I'm expecting to see lots of gorgeous older dames dolled up in Barbarella outfits. In a tragic twist, however, nobody else seems to have gotten the press release?including the DJ, who, instead of "spinning classic 60s tunes," is playing music from the East 60s.

Even in modern garb, though, the assembled socialites would make for a stellar edition of Over 50 magazine. Sidney Biddle Barrows?who, of course, has never put a woman in the position of being a victim of crime and abuse?seems to take her own good advice on reasonable cosmetic surgery. Dayle Haddon has also been wise enough to let herself age into a supermaturemodel. Designer Barbara K knows how to work a matronly cleavage, while Muffie Potter Aston accentuates her modest attributes with an upscale Iron Cross in silver.

Meanwhile, Somers Farkas brings glamour to ludicrous heights by wearing high heels despite a foot injury that has her relying on a cane. The woman looks to be six-one in bare feet, but she must've been warned that six-foot Tina Louise was set to appear. The painfully thin Ms. Louise, incidentally, remains undeniably sexy at the age of 69, but she shouldn't be turning down any canapes. Or wearing bondage pants.

The socialites are having a fine time, but you don't need to read a bunch of quotes about how they're opposed to women being victims of crime and abuse. For that matter, Tina Louise is just another intelligent lady doubting that the Stepford Wives remake will be relevant.

The party ends up being the kind of thing where desperate reporters end up interviewing other reporters, although I avoid getting grilled by some journalist from the South Shore Record. The most interesting thing at the party is surveying the flood of identical dye jobs bobbing at the top of the crowd. Some stylist, somewhere, has cornered a market.

It's the first time that I've ever been happy to see the flamboyant Cognac, adored by really gay fans of cable access as the roving reporter of Cognac's Corner. Her platinum plume almost stands out as much as Biddle Barrows' navy blue in the sea of basic black. I give Cognac that line about how I was expecting to see a bunch of old gals in Barbarella outfits. "That's me!" she replies. "I'm the one! So, um? Ya wanna take my picture?"