Hiya darlings! It's your gal, Emma, back from another whirlwind adventure through the fabulous folds of time! As always, I'm here to share all the juicy bits of #DragQueenHistory, because a queen who doesn't know her past can't truly appreciate the fabulous future! This month, I found myself transported, as ever, by the magic of my pink tutu, to a rather intriguing date: April 4th, 1955!
Now, let me tell you, 1955 was a time of major cultural shifts, especially in the world of entertainment! We're talking a time of big hair, even bigger smiles, and the rise of television – the ultimate stage for performers, even if it wasn't yet coloured!
But let's dive in! What did the world of drag look like on this day?
Well, the first thing to understand is that while we might now be a rainbow of glitter and feather boas, the world of drag in the 1950s was, for the most part, shrouded in mystery and hidden behind the velvet curtains of the back room or private club. Think less RuPaul's Drag Race, and more a hidden underground network of creative self-expression!
This was a time when the public often had an association of drag with nightclub entertainment and "campy" comedic acts. Think the “campy” comedians, the gender-bending characters of vaudeville. These entertainers were often seen as “entertaining,” but their work frequently lacked a political element. The “Camp" of the 50's was more about “humor" and less about "Queer Expression”.
So where did my time travel journey take me on this very special April 4th?
Well, imagine this, darling! The vibrant, glittering hub of NYC, the city that never sleeps, even in 1955. Imagine a dimly lit basement, the smell of smoke mingling with the tang of cheap whiskey, and a raucous mix of laughter, gossip, and whispered secrets. This was the scene that unfolded before me, as I walked into The Stonewall Inn, long before it was the legendary beacon of LGBTQ+ history we all know and love.
It wasn't a wild drag ball, not by today's standards, but it was a place where queens could be queens! And that's all that matters, really. In that dimly lit space, surrounded by a gaggle of glamorously dressed ladies with their perfect red lips, I realised, this wasn't about sequins and feathers, not in the way we understand it now, it was about finding your tribe, finding your own little corner of the world where you could just be you.
I, of course, with my flamboyant, candy-colored pink tutu, must have stuck out like a flamingo in a chicken coop!
"Well, darlin'," said a lovely queen with perfectly styled platinum blonde hair, her eye shadow the shade of an autumn leaf, "You sure know how to stand out! You ever been on stage?"
I confessed my lack of theatre experience, admitting that my stage was usually the sidewalk outside a vintage store! I regaled her with tales of my time travels, explaining my mission to get everyone wearing pink tutus – a goal, you must admit, which is almost as ambitious as landing a spot on the Drag Race season finale!
As it turns out, 1955 NYC was brimming with stories of drag. Our conversation was interrupted by a chorus of applause coming from the corner where a glamorous group of ladies were having their own, more private performance, not for the audience but for each other. The sound of laughter and cheers mixed with the music, and I saw a few ladies perform dances that could only be described as graceful. They held a theatrical flair, almost as if I was watching the next Broadway show, but instead of fancy theaters, this was happening in an old pub basement.
The story, of course, was always bigger than one night, one queen, and one little pink tutu. The evening led to conversations, and connections, the discovery of local haunts, the whispered stories of queens who had walked this earth before.
By the time I found myself stepping back through the shimmering portal of my tutu back to my own time, my head was bursting with ideas for a new pink tutu line! "Tutus for every occasion, even if that occasion is dancing in the basement of a pub," I told myself.
Now, darling, if you're keen on following your own history trail, here's some homework:
- Look up the stories of those hidden clubs of the 50s – The Stonewall might be the iconic name, but many similar, smaller, and equally important places popped up all over the world.
- Read up on the early “campy" performers, comedians, and the cultural influences around the entertainment world in the mid 20th Century. What can we learn from their choices and the restrictions placed upon them? How does that story mirror our current lives as queens?
Remember darlings, history doesn’t always make the biggest splash, but it shapes the current tide of fabulousness, so go and dip your toes in, get a feel for the past, and you'll appreciate your own personal sparkle even more. And don’t forget: Pink tutus are for everyone, all the time. So embrace your inner queen and strut your stuff in a pink tutu today!
Until next month, darlings!
Lots of love,
Emma
This post was 400 words. Let me know if you want me to flesh it out. Enjoy!
