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Puttin' on the Ritz

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THIS YEAR EVERYONE MADE AN EFFORT TO LOOK special,” says José Eber, hairdresser to the stars. “For once, there was not one person who made you say, ‘My God, what’s she done to herself?’ ” Well, maybe. But Eber wasn’t far off the mark. His practiced eye saw pretty much the same thing that an estimated billion home viewers did: no grunge duds, no streakers, no T-shirts under tuxes and, alas, no Cher. Under all that good taste, of course, beat the occasional mutinous heart. “You know the Hollywood b———t,” said post-Oscar partygoer Andrew Dice Clay. “Everybody applauds and everybody’s happy. And everybody’s going, ‘Why isn’t it me?’ ”