Day: April 1, 2018

Roll up, roll up, the drag circus is in town for one night only. And man was it a night.

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, children of all ages, what you’re about to see will shock and amaze. It will flash you to a place of horror and wonder. It will inspire, it will transform. What you’re about to witness will change you’re life. It will be the only thing you desire. I welcome you… to the… Twisted circus.

Crash…….. A sudden burst of flames engulfs the stage and lights crowd the air, squabbling over who owns the audience. Faces are scattered everywhere with wide grins of glory. A flurry of glitter here a pink tutu there, drag is everywhere. And I love it. There is mystery, there is inspiration, and there is passion. I can’t believe I’m here.

Come to think of it, where is here?

Well sit tight, because it’s a bumpy ride full of catastrophe and craziness. We’ll start at the very beginning…

By any chance, have you ever tried to travel to London?  One word for you…stressful!

You get lost, tired, hungry – it’s a whole whirlwind. Back and forth, on one train, off the next. Like a crazy carousel going round and round, we were constantly in frantics, looking for the next platform.

We were on our way to Troxy, London, home of the drag show we were about to see, and we were starting to stress out. We had to find a way from Norfolk to London in the space of a few hours. The show starts at it was already 12:00pm. We had to catch a train fast.

Making our way to the station, we were panicking up a storm, but as luck would have it our saviour was on its way. The train pulled up just as we got there, so we charged on with the full force of a rocket. Phew.

An hour and a half later, we arrived at a station in London. Usually I love journeys and travelling, but this was horrendous because as we arrived, our luck changed. I had just found out our trains were delayed, the main line was cancelled, and it was another hour before the next one would get here. Great. We were running time fast, but we could do this. I didn’t know where the heck I was, and I was running out of money, but I had to get there. I had to see that show.

Three trains and about £30 worth of food later (damn London is expensive), we were finally in central London. Now all we had to do was find that venue. Oh wait – what’s the address? In all the calamity of catching trains, I had forgotten to check the address of the place.

Typical. All I can say is thank goodness for Google. I may be part of this Igeneration, and I might be useless with a map, but at least I had a trusty friend in my pocket. “take a left here, turn right there.”

Google got us in a continuous flip-flop of absolutely lost and knowing our way. And three lefts, four rights, 100 odd steps, and half an hour later we came to what looked like our destination. Troxy the sign said, and we breathed a sigh of relief. We had done it. It was stressful, but we had got there in one piece.

Now flash forward a bit.
It had been hours and so far nothing. The emptiness was heavy and thick. Around us stood a cathedral of walls, decadently decorated, and ceilings that reached for the skies. The people too were decorated, paint plastered on their faces to match their favourite stars. We were in a sea of an eager fish, frantically swimming about, trying to busy themselves to distract from the dead air.

“Excuse me, I’m just going to meet my friend over there,” a member of this curious cult screeched at me, as she barged her way through the mountain of people. “Sure,” I said,  thinking how hard it would be to lose your friend to the city of people. “Go ahead.” And what did she do? Barge her way through, only to stand right in front of me. Unbelievable. It was astounding really, but everyone was so…alive. We were swallowed in the crowd of people. Despite the emptiness and dead air, they were incredibly eager. Actually to say eager would be an understatement; you could feel the anticipation dripping from them – they were desperate to get to the front of the stage. Desperate to even breathe the same air as who we were about to see. For Drag fans, they were unusually bolshy and abrasive. And it was irritating.

To tell the truth, we were lucky to get in at all.  Along the tumultuous journey, numerous disasters cropped up and shook our hand. “We’re sorry to say, but there will be technical difficulties,” the robotic voice on the train had told us – and that was just the starter of our problems. I didn’t even know if the place would let us in. I didn’t have a ticket, or a lot of money, and the only form of ID I did have probably wouldn’t be useful. Dowsed in stress and we hadn’t even got to the venue yet.

So yes, that’s the hectic day I had to battle through before even seeing the palace of drag. But we were there, and the show was about to begin. Now let’s go back to the gig before we miss anything.

A sudden crash and the stage lights up like lightning. Music blares through the room, seeping into the ground until it grabs the roots of our feet. All the waiting and anticipation had brewed a relentless fire in me; I too was infected with the crazy desperation to watch the Queens, overwhelmed by the possibility of actually seeing them in person.

Through the mist of the stage, a face is creeping into view. “Linda, Linda I’m telling you, it was a horrible dream,” the face whimpers, as the first performer finally meets the stage. In a burst of smoke and lights, clowns are suddenly sparking before him – creepy and twisting in their dance. What looked like a ringmaster joined them, prancing across the floor like mad men in a hypnotic trance. The beat was thumping, has everybody jumping, transforming the dead air into a burning inferno of passion. It’s broken and beautifully disturbing. “There were clowns, and drag Queens, Linda. It was a nightmare!” And that might as well been the trailer for what the night was about to hold.

Damaged dancers leave, their twisty energy glued to stage as the remaining circus floods in. A pink wig and gorgeous glitter waltzes onto the stage, and the crowd is just roaring with excitement. Who’s there, I can’t see. There are too many heads an shoulders in the way. For a short kid like me, it seems seeing the acts is rare. Nearing us, it becomes clear – that’s Farrah Moan. Ring girl Farrah (or is it Christina Aguilera) gets the crowd in all of a flutter with her pristine beauty and perfection. Then Kim then Violet, the Queens are pouring in and soaking us in tears of disbelief. It’s just a collection of drag royalty. Milk, Kim Chi, Violet Chachki, Chad Michaels, we were kids in a sweet shop; you’re far from short of talent to chose from. Every area is covered.

Shea Coulee, Kim Chi and Amanda Lepore seem to command the room, carrying the air of lionesses, with Chad actually dressing as one, claiming the whole stage as their serengeti. Dances are strong and striking. Pouncing from corner to corner, teeming with power, the girls are absorbing the rippling passion from the audience and using it for their own charge. They are so sharp they cut through the misty air,  splitting our brains in two.

Throughout the night it becomes more and more apparent just how many fans are here. Like any show, there were floods of people earlier. Outside, a long line of eager fans swallowed the block around the venue, spilling onto the streets beyond. But this transcended the comfortable level once walls circled round us.

“Put the phone down! Move out-of-the-way!” someone calls out. This is too much, I need to move. I merely creep an inch one way and I can’t help but crash into someone. Move the other and I’ll l make contact with someone else. It’s tough to breathe, It became claustrophobic so quickly.

A figure suddenly moves across the stage, and in-between the heads of the crowd I can just about make out what appears to be antlers. “Which Queen is that?”

“I don’t know, I can’t tell but i think it’s Kim Chi.”

I have to stand on my tiptoes to see, but I think I can spot the Queen and her crazy painted face. That has to be Kim. “I want to take you away with me” the anime voice is singing. That’s definitely her.

Shyly creeping onto the stage, she looks like a stag crossed with Bambi. But she has the gravitas of Grizabella as soon as she begins her lipsync. It’s perfect. For somebody that claims they can’t perform (I mean – did you see season 8), she has an incredible hold over the audience. I can’t help it – I’m literally swaying along with her solemn ode. All I’m missing is a lighter or a candle.

“Look at me, look at me I’m on TV” the song floats into the background as the Queen spreads her arms and tries her best to dance. Not going to lie, she looks like Pearl flapping about like that. But we love it. The crowd is screaming along with the song gleefully. We’re more than just onlookers we’re part of the show too. That’s how it feels as she waltzes down into our little group.

About five minutes later, Milk is sweeping in donning what looks like a pastor’s gown. It’s a little – how do I put this politely? Extravagant. She’s singing something about “Santa Clause touched me” (which is a slightly odd but awkwardly funny when she sings in her weird way), and just after her, most of the girls have stripped down to reveal almost very close, bordering on censor worthy, nudity. Weird.

You know what. They’re brave.

I hadn’t thought of this before, but watching drag race is nothing compared to this – it’s a completely different experience. Milk isn’t just the catty Queen from all-stars three, here she’s a veteran performer, a master of the stage and the second best girl of the night to grace it. We all knew Shea was an incredibly fierce competitor ; she won most of the challenges and dominated the fan’s hearts in her season. But here she’s on a pedestal. It’s like all of her prowess has been magnified by ten. She’s amazing. And I’d never seen Amanda perform before, but wow is she good too. She’s keeping up with Farrah and Violet, and they’re half her age.

I see two foam hands appear from the back of the stage, and I know what’s about to happen. “Touch the fashion, change you’re life! Touch the fashion, change your life!” we’re chanting along with Milk at full volume. “Touch the fashion, change you’re life! Touch the fashion, change your life!”

Is that the time already?  It’s half ten and the show is closing. It’s only been on for an hour or two! We spent longer getting there then watching it. But it was worth it.

What a night!

Now all we have to do is get home.

If I thought travelling in London during the day was bad enough, this is even worse. It’s dark, we’re lost and we’ve just missed the next train from fussing about at the merchandise stall. We’re getting on the next train now, after waiting for a few hours,  and it’s like something out of a cartoon: Right in front of us, there’s this rowdy group of drunks shouting and spilling their beers all over the show. To our left, the overly pda couple that in the most polite way need to get a room. And about two inches away, an angry guy is in a blistering row on the phone. And that’s all in about the space of five minutes. Crazy.

“So how was the gig, did you like it?” I say to my sister beside me, as we’re trying to drown out the commotion on the train with our chatter.

“Honestly, that was a night for the books!”