Somewhere between Piaf, the waif-like French chanteuse, and Phyllis Diller, there is Kathryn Feigal, portraying a young lass of somewhat confusing international lineage, looking for all the world like a Parisian trollop, a l-o-n-g cigarette holder in one hand, hilariously sashaying her way through "The French Song."

It's just one of the 21 vignettes addressing the various and sundry aspects of womanhood in "A . . . My Name Is Alice," a nifty musical revue that's being brought back for the fourth time by TheatreWorks West.If the third time is a charm, then the fourth time must be sensational.

Having never seen "Alice" before, when TWW and its former incarnation, the New Shakespeare Players, presented it in the Courage Theatre and tiny Walker Hall, I can only imagine the work that's taken place to open it up for the new Jewett Center space, which seems to be a nearly perfect setting for this intimate piece.

For Ellen Graham's ensemble - six talented actors and four accomplished musicians - it must have been a great experience to romp around the big new proscenium stage and Marnie Sears' playful set.

In a production like "Alice," which is more like a dozen little scenes all strung together rather than a straight production with a central, singularly focused plot, everyone in the audience is bound to come away with their own particular favorite vignettes.

I know I did, and friends who've seen this two or three times before, have their personal favorites, too.

Some scenes are knee-slappers and others might leave you teary-eyed.

One of the funniest was the parent-teacher confrontation at Badger Elementary School between cantankerous teacher Mrs. Thomas (Carolyn Wood) and Mrs. Johnson (Wendy Thompson), who is being labeled as a "bad mother" because her daughter, Janie, is so difficult in school. It's bad enough that Janie is self-assured and highly motivated, what's even more upsetting is that Mrs. Johnson's cookies at the bake sale "clearly weren't home-made!"

Two clever numbers, both featuring trios in slightly different nightclub settings, closed the first act and opened the second.

Half of the ensemble (Teresa Sanderson, Trudy Jorgensen and Barb Nelson) really shined in the hilarious "Bluer Than You" number that ended the first act. They portrayed three women singing and drinking themselves into oblivion, each one boasting about how she's more depressed than the others.

In the next vignette, right after intermission, we get to see Kathy Feigal, Wendy Thompson and Carolyn Wood as three housewives out for a night of fun going ga-ga over the "Pretty Young Men" in a Chippendales' style revue.

All we see, of course, are the three women seated around a table, rapidly changing from shy to shocked to enamored.

"Oh, my . . . look at that! Wearing just a G-string! And a cowboy hat!"

There are other wonderful moments, too: Barbara Nelson caught up in a dream world of trashy romance novels at her office desk . . . Carolyn Wood's intermittent "For Women Only" poems . . . sportscaster Kathryn Feigal's play-by-play with the Detroit Persons all-girl exhibition basketball team . . . the biting satire of a workman's "Hot Lunch" (written by Anne Meara) . . . the rambunctiously risque session between patient Honeypot (Sanderson) and a sex counselor (Wood) . . . Feigal's poignant solo about "Sisters" . . . and the comparison of two women (Feigal and Jorgensen) as a 30-year-old divorcee and a 15-year-old girl about to embark on dates, in "At My Age."

Sanderson's "The Portrait" and Nelson's "Pay Them No Mind," were also thought-provoking.

And, unlike Carolyn Wood's poetry, this show really isn't "For Women Only."

There's plenty of insightful entertainment here for us men, too.