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They're a gang of six. They wear dirty leather. They ride some mean Harleys. And as one hitchhiker says "Jesus Christ! You're all faggots!" Meet the Pink Angels motorbike gang, the roughest toughest meanest load of gay beauticians and hairdressers you'll ever see as they head across country to a drag queen ball in Hollywood.
Packing some serious hairdryers and paisley scarves they cover those miles stopping only for candlelight wine and cheese picnics, and harassment by the fuzz as all their gowns, bras, lacy underwear and setting gel is searched without warrant, and goggling locals who stare as they try on their prom dresses in public.
Slutty waitresses can't work out why they aren't interested in them, a slew of call girls find a distinct lack of business when they run across them and a straight gang of real Hells Angels wind up with new hairdos, lipstick and lavender ribbons in their hair after a drunken night with the boys. While this comes across as a terribly homophobic film, it's really a gang of gay TV bikers having a good time and coming out the winners at the end.
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