The male of a species is typically more flamboyant, but rare is the man who dares to dress as deliriously as Wladziu Valentino Liberace. Even for a showman, he remains in a class by himself. Dave Hickey’s essay “A Rhinestone as big as the Ritz” posits Liberace as the godfather of glam rock, and why not? His bizarre populist, showbiz antics bedazzled the world; he performed for presidents, queens, and fainting bobby-soxers, with film roles, a weekly television series, and sold-out shows at Radio City. His legacy is strange and complicated, but the glittering detritus he left in his wake is still worth a look.

The Liberace Museum opened in 1979 on East Tropicana Avenue in Las Vegas. The morning I visited, September 10, was quiet. Ducking in from the dry desert heat, I was greeted by one of the small army of older ladies who volunteer for the Liberace Foundation to run the museum. As I eyeballed the acres of plumage and rhinestones, one of them began giving me an impromptu tour filled with facts.

During his act Liberace had many costume changes and he needed to do them in about ninety seconds, so he had tailors use a dress form two sizes bigger leaving him room to jump in and out of them. His extravagance knew few bounds, each outfit more elaborate than the next. There is the undersea themed suit in shades of aqua and peach with an enormous scalloped shell cape collar to frame his smirking face, the suit and cape studded with gems and literally dripping with pearls (the inside cape lining given just as much detail). There is the czar outfit, the glittering ruby red Christmas outfit trimmed in white ermine (a look he nearly died in at Radio City Music Hall during his last appearance in 1986), feathered concoctions that would bring a drag queen to tears, and of course, the patriotic outfit of sequined stars-and-stripes complete with hot pants, an outfit he often wore with roller skates as he flew in cackling over the stage. Liberace is nothing if not quintessentially American, transcending his humble Polish-Italian roots to become a one-name legend with a decade-spanning career.

Two of the outfits sit in glass cases. One of them, a black tuxedo, is unassuming (for Liberace) but upon closer inspection is riddled with intricate black-on-black beading in swirling paisley-like patterns. My guide told me it took a year and a half to fabricate. The costumiers could only work for twenty minutes at a time because of the intense lighting required to work with the tiny black crystals on the lush black cloth. Unassuming but expensive, the outfit cost a whopping $750,000 in 1975, a cost that would easily range in the millions today.

Originally, rhinestones were actual rock crystals gathered from the Rhine river of Germany, but those ran out hundreds of years ago. If they hadn’t, Liberace would have done his best to finish the job. He covered everything in them: pianos, microphones, and, famously, his rare 1962 Rolls Royce (a generic auto toolbox that sits nearby is also detailed with flash).

Apparently, Swarovski was in danger of going under when Liberace discovered the company and told them not to give up. He promised to give them a giant order and to promote their name around the world. Years later, to thank him for his patronage, the company gifted him The Largest Rhinestone in the World, a behemoth 50.6 pounds of pure lead glass with 115,000 carats. “It’s very nice, but I can’t wear it,” he apparently quipped upon receipt. Instead, he would tow it out on stage in a little red wagon on stage and parade it around.

Out in front of Liberace Plaza I caught the complimentary bus that whisked visitors back to the Strip. Later that day, news shot around the country that the museum was closing due to low attendance and the harsh economy. People I spoke to in New York, California and Massachusetts had all heard. Perhaps that was why my guide offered her tour, she knew it was the end and was eager to share while she could. The museum closed its doors on October 17 – temporarily, they say, with a national tour of the exhibition in the works. Meanwhile, Steven Soderbergh is preparing a Liberace biopic starring Michael Douglas. Whatever one thinks of his artistic legacy, and in his lifetime he was called everything from “the master of musical mediocrity” to a “preposterous clown,” his story was sensational and the looks divine. www.liberace.org