Hiya darlings! It's your girl Emma, back with another blast from the past, fresh from a time-bending twirl in my magical pink tutu! This month, I'm whisking us back to the 12th of December, 1935. Now, I know what you're thinking - no, darling, we're not talking about that big Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center! This journey takes us to a slightly less glamorous spot... well, maybe a little less glam. Buckle up your glitter boots and prepare to get extra, because we're headed to... drumroll… Derbyshire! Yep, you heard me right! My hometown, darlings. The year is 1935, and it's my mission to unearth a little drag history that went down just a few miles from where I'm sitting typing this blog post.
Hold your fabulous feathers, my darlings, because this trip isn't all about high-drama drag shows and smoky jazz clubs! We're stepping into the realm of 'cross-dressing' - a term which makes my perfectly painted brows furrow with the intensity of a thousand thousand perfectly sculpted looks. However, dear reader, 'cross-dressing' back in 1935 had a different context than it does today, didn't it? Now, while I was in my Derbyshire of 1935, it was a time of whispers and shadows. There was an article, a juicy little tidbit of history, about a 'woman' dressed in trousers being cautioned by the local constabulary. That's right, folks. My own town was witness to the first steps of challenging gender norms, albeit not in the glamorous way we're used to!
Don't worry, darlings! It's not as dry as it sounds! I channeled my inner dramatic diva and transformed that caution into a fabulous scene for the ages. I donned a showstopping outfit – a scarlet pashmina draped over my pink tutu, you know how I like to combine colours, darling, a hint of dangerous - and put on a mini performance right outside the Derbyshire courthouse. I call it ‘Tutu Justice!’ A bold, yet sensitive nod to the challenges of dressing how you want to! And honestly, those Derbshires just adored it. It took me all of five minutes to convince some local gents to join in my dance! We waltzed through the streets in the most fabulous celebration of gender fluidity – you could see the smiles even under those little old bowler hats, oh! It was glorious. It reminds us, dear readers, that drag's not always a flashy spectacle! It can be a defiant gesture, a challenge, a whisper of change against the humdrum!
Oh! Now, don't get me wrong. This time-travelin' diva wouldn't be true to her pink-tutu-loving self if we weren't at least a little bit caught up in the glam world of the drag scene. Back then, in the glittering nightclubs of the era, drag wasn’t the vibrant art form we celebrate today, darling. Think big band sounds, lots of fringe and sequins! They didn't call it ‘drag’, though, and there wasn't really an 'online community', for the love of God! Instead, drag was known as ‘camp' - or 'effeminate' – often a stage for satire, and yes, sometimes a place for some sneaky sass towards the folks who wouldn’t get the subtle humor. Imagine - back in those times, a big part of the 'humor' was veiled criticism! What I would have given to give them all a good 'sass, that’s the word!
And darling, wouldn’t you know it? I happened upon a true queen back then in the glittering, smoky nightclub scene! Imagine - New York City! Now that's an adventure, isn’t it? In a club with more smoke than glamour (seriously, who invented these foggy light shows?), there she was – ‘Julie’, the reigning queen of all the 'camp’ artists. You could hear her voice over the swinging sounds – smooth like silk, a little raspy - an actual cabaret icon! Now that's my style, my dears. Julie wasn't a showgirl, or a full-on entertainer, you see. Instead, Julie was the hostess. I was invited to a little ‘private soirée' by this incredible icon, complete with 'a small but stylish’ crowd of ladies in glamorous gowns, dapper fellas sporting top hats and dapper gents and... oh, how scandalous!… they did 'dance’. That’s a drag history for the ages! Now, who said 1935 was boring?
So there you have it, darlings! The 12th of December 1935 was all about celebrating gender fluidity, no matter what form it takes, and also enjoying the hidden gem of glamorous 'camp' culture in the smoke-filled haze of those wonderful NYC nightclubs! It wasn’t just about the glamorous stage, you see? Sometimes, a whisper in the street, a ‘dance’ in a dimly lit bar, a simple change in clothing - it’s the smallest changes that truly matter! Now, where’s my pink tutu and where's the nearest theatre?! Let's go create some more drag history together, darlings. Don’t forget to tune in next month for more Pink Tutu Time Travels. Ciao for now!
