Life in the Slow Lane

Life in the Slow Lane

Monday, March 20, 2006

Dude Looks Like a Lady

You might have read my post last week all about how my life in the film industry ruined my ability to shop my future husband into the poor house. A blessing in disguise? Perhaps. Yet it brought forth some other warmer memories that I wish to share with you. It also will illustrate how totally suggestible I am.

On this one film I worked on part of my job was following a half dozen drag queens around the set making sure they were happy and healthy little campers. I helped them open their Diet Coke cans as they had very long false nails and couldn’t do it themselves. I also stole straws for them from the Starbucks to they could drink their Diet Cokes without ruining their lipstick. I had a little area all cordoned off where they could hang their feather boas and replace their platform shoes with comfy sneakers in between takes. I cinched up corsets and zipped up dresses. Basically I was their bitch.

I have to say I have never worked with a more delightful group of people. They were unfailingly polite and thankful for my assistance. These guys would come in at the crack of dawn every day and slather on a full face of make up, style and don a towering wig and wear laced up undergarments and impossible high heels that would make a regular lady weep. And they did it with a smile on their faces and never a complaint. They were constantly cracking jokes which made me spew root beer out of my nose every day. I, frankly, fell totally in love with them all.

I wish I could post photos of them as I would love you to see how gorgeous each and every one of them was but I have no way of contacting them to get their permission. Let’s just say they did “women” better than women did. I would come to work and feel so drab and unladylike and, well, butch next to them. Their charm was so infectious I slowly found myself starting to become a drag queen myself.

I started to seriously believe that I needed a wig or three. DESPERATELY needed. I spent many a day off browsing online for Perspex platform shoes. Fishnets tights became almost irresistible to me. I am the proud owner of not one but TWO feather boas. Hot pink and brilliant orange. I found myself shocking friends and family repeating all the risqué banter I heard everyday on the set. I began to think about what singer I could lip sync to and dress up as. Cher or Madonna? Bette or Liza? Hmmmmmm… Who do I look like most?

After the film ended I slowly lost these urges and returned to my normal regular make-up wearing ways. I didn’t buy false eyelashes or Marilyn Monroe halter dresses. I stopped going to drag shows and calling everybody a C*NT. (Those drag queens have filthy mouths.) I became a boring old girl again. Being a drag queen is a lot of work.

I think I’ll leave the dressing up to the guys.

19 comments:

eclectic said...

That's a great story, Kranki! I laughed my ass off at the "need" for fishnets and wigs!!! But, I'm really glad that you DON'T need wigs anymore.

Closet Metro said...

I love story time. Next time could all the hot chicks in the story actually be chicks? I might have better dreams tonight...

whfropera said...

I think we need to get together and dish,girl! I used to dress dg's in Chicago, where there is a very specific pecking order.
The best was to see old school drag in the same show as new school - meaning, for those of you who don't know, duct tape versus the silicon stick ons from Fredericks of Hollywood.
You just brought back some funny great memories.

Twisteduterus said...

Awesome story. And you re not boring! you are fabuous.

Precisiongirl said...

What a great story!

I couldn't be a drag queen either.. I hate getting the C-word out.

kerri said...

I love how feather boas=punch of pizzaz. No matter what they are adorning.

circe said...

Oh man, I want a feather boa! :)
BTW, I'm currently on a geisha kick. I'm torn between that and a Viking queen. Let's play dress up together....

hugs,
circe

kalki said...

Awesome post. And to think, if men really want us to look sexy, they should show us how it's done.

Karen said...

Gay banter *is* easy to fall into, isn't it? Not so funny when your straight husband has a gay friend at work and starts picking up the speech mannerisms. (He was young, and everyone else in the department was an older woman, so they all ended up talking like the gay guy after a while.) Luckily my husband understood the problem when I pointed it out to him and he stopped doing it.

east village idiot said...

I live in the land of drag queens. But there is a certain fantasy to being a drag queen that sucks everybody in. Like any good art - it inspires you.
And bad drag...well that's good for a laugh.

come down to wigstock at the end of August and see for yourself!

alan said...

Someday you're going to write a few of these stories down and someone like the New Yorker is going to get ahold of them, then you'll be set!

Thanks for brightening my day, both here and with your visit...

alan

Amanda B. said...

I don't have to tell you how I feel about drag queens. I want one of my very own. Seriously.

You are so sweet Kranki. The world needs more c*nts like you. ;D

spoonleg said...

Being a drag queen is a full time job. PARTY!

Danielle said...

Great story!

I chuckle at Metro's comment.

Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

*wondering how he'd look in stockings and a wig*

Squirl said...

One of my favorite gay guy friends used to do drag for fun. I still have to get him to show me the videos. And nobody is funnier than gay guys. I love 'em so!

Carol said...

I saw RuPaul (he's from atlanta) in the rocky horror before he was famous and he was just SO good. i have seen drag shows here that are just amazing!!!

I could never be in one because I cannot wear heels well. No, I am a klutz. huge.

the boys that want it... they get it.
Hooray for them. I don't want it. (the high heels) : )

And a BIG hooray for you again. love you.

Hänni said...

In your list of ladies who you could dress up like, you totally forgot Judy Garland.

Tsk tsk girlfriend.

JP said...

You ought to be in pictures. Reminds me of the line from the Austin Powers movie, "That's not a woman, that's a man baby..."