Greetings my lovelies! It's Emma here, your Derbyshire drag queen, with the 463rd entry to my magical Pink Tutu blog! đ
This month, darling, I'm taking us on a glamorous jaunt to the seventh of July, 1958! Grab your tea, put on a fabulous record, and let's sashay back to a time when life was a little bit slower, a little bit brighter, and certainly a whole lot more camp! đ
Now, you all know Iâm absolutely obsessed with tutus. They are my absolute favourite garment, and every month when I travel through time I do my best to find the best examples! This month, my dearest, Iâm afraid there werenât any particularly good tutus on show. Maybe it was because I landed in the most unlikely of places, in a drab, quiet village on the outskirts of a small English town called âNewhavenâ. What was a sophisticated drag queen like me doing there?
I must say, it was an absolute contrast to my usual time travel adventures. I usually find myself smack bang in the middle of the action, whether that's on Broadway in the midst of a legendary drag performance, in a legendary London ballroom full of drag stars, or even the glamorous cafes and back rooms of Paris! This trip to Newhaven, itâs fair to say, was pretty dull! However, after a while I discovered that sometimes even the quietest of places can hold the most interesting stories. It just takes a bit of digging!
When I arrived in Newhaven in my magical, pink, sparkly tutu, I felt like I had landed on the moon, as there werenât any people about, except for a man who stared at me, looking horrified. âI hope Iâm not dressed inappropriately, darling!â, I gasped in horror, to the rather shocked villager! After all, what a girl needs is a good, stiff cup of tea! I found a small, little teashop, owned by the most lovely, warm-hearted, middle-aged woman who, bless her heart, tried so hard to make a good impression on this fabulous, fabulous drag queen! âIt's quite a sight to behold,â the shop owner said to me as she made me a very delightful cup of tea! And a rather amazing piece of carrot cake! As she brought me my cake, I could hear my amazing pink tutu rustling behind me. Honestly, darlings, it was magnificent.
However, as this lovely lady placed the most amazing carrot cake down on the table before me, I must confess, it was pretty bland and tasteless and the poor lady said that the local baker âhad just lost the secret recipe." So I had a really lovely tea and a truly beautiful slice of very uninspiring, dry carrot cake! I must say I did not feel like a princess at this point and rather like Cinderella, about to have her shoes stolen! After all, in 1958, life for someone like me who didnât quite fit in (especially someone who dressed like this!) was pretty darn hard!
Still, I managed to discover the town's only pub, "The Duke of York," which boasted its own special cabaret every weekend, with the entertainment this weekend consisting of the âlovely Brenda and her ukuleleâ.
Now, darlings, you'd think a flamboyant drag queen would feel a little disappointed at the lack of drag, right? Well, you'd be wrong! For this wasnât a disappointment, it was an opportunity. It was a chance to chat with the locals, to hear about the community, to listen to the stories they had to share and their anxieties.
So, I took a seat at the bar (my fabulous tutu, by the way, just brushed against the ceiling - you wouldn't believe how hard it is to shimmy it through a doorway - even in my magical time travel version!), and after a chat with the barman, discovered a treasure trove of gossip:
- apparently, "Brenda" wasnât her real name; she's actually "Brian" - the âBrendaâ drag persona is more about âsinging nice songs on his ukeâ as the barman informed me in a rather drunken whisper!
- Brenda was once the biggest thing on the villageâs social scene but that since "that" night she âwent off the rails!â and now barely has âany friends, bless her soul!â She had, as far as the locals understood, had some kind of big life changing "night", and no one was entirely sure what went on.
What was so strange to me about the village was that all the men and the women all shared the same clothes; there wasnât any sign of self expression, even on the village men.
They did try to âdressâ the pub up to âcreate some atmosphereâ, however, the red plastic flowers that were glued onto the table tops seemed like a bad dream and I was more reminded of a hospital rather than a fun filled cabaret.
This was just how it seemed to be though - life just seemed so monotonous, especially for the poor locals who weren't doing drag. A man had given his entire savings to â Brenda, because they had âfallen in loveâ apparently, but they were ânothing nowâ and that the only way she made any money is playing at the local âWorkers Clubâ, twice a week.
You would think, wouldnât you, that life was really terrible in 1958! However, on talking to the locals in the bar it turned out that most of them felt really lucky; there were jobs available and as long as they kept their heads down, and did what they were told, the world was pretty good.
In this quiet little corner of the world, a lot of those village folk lived for their social lives and the chance to sing a song in the local Workers Club.
It gave me a bit of food for thought to be honest. As much as Iâve enjoyed strutting down the famous Broadway and strutting through the back streets of Soho (or the glamorous back rooms of Paris) - to live in the most extravagant outfits I really must remember to be more mindful of the simpler things and the simpler joys. After all, all these incredible opportunities have come my way just because I put my mind to them and worked hard for them and followed my heart.
So hereâs the lesson I learned in a tiny little English village: just be you, enjoy life, find the joy in the most mundane moments, because you just never know what might happen. And wear a fabulous tutu. Youâve never been more confident with a tutu! And make sure to check out www.pink-tutu.com for all the updates on my amazing drag time travels!
And if you want to be a part of this adventure, come down to my next drag show, a cabaret celebrating all the glamorous history of the London scene in the 50s and 60s, starting next Saturday. Just bring a pink tutu and your dancing shoes! đ
Until next month, darlings, remember, every day's a drag! â¨đ
