If you read my piece about my dinner show finally happening, you’ll remember that I told you there was a funny story surrounding the finale of the first half of the show. It’s bringing a smile to my face as I sit down to write, along with a little cringe, but if you can’t laugh at yourself…
I love giving you a real life story – it’s a lot of fun to write these and I’m completely OK with everyone having a giggle at my expense. Life’s all about not taking yourself too seriously, after all!
So, we’d made it mostly through the first half and it was quick change after quick change for me. I’d had a really really long table put together down the back of the room, long enough to lay out each outfit in order, along with its accessories. On the wig table (yes, you read that right, there was a wig table) the same had happened, with each wig placed in order of appearance, pinned to its polystyrene head to keep it styled and in shape. All this has been borne of experience where in a choreographed show, there’s no margin for error. There can be no disorganised stumbling about backstage, as there’s no way to really cover a gap if you’re not ready in time. While I get out of one outfit and into the next with assistance from one or two folks backstage, another person will have unpinned the next wig ready for me to put it on at the end of the change and also be ready with pins and an empty head to take the previous wig and place it back where it belongs. Big styled wigs are pretty delicate and the more you can take care of them, the better.
I was already on outfit number four of the night (five if you count the reveal outfit from the opening number). So, we already had a few really quick changes under our belts. This, however, was one of the fastest. The dancers had a routine that was due to last just two minutes and twenty-eight seconds, so I had to be quick getting off stage, into position, getting out of the outfit I was in and grabbing the bits for the next one. Annoyingly, this outfit was more pieces than most of the changes. Instead of being a single dress that just needed stepping into and zipping up, this one involved a black bodycon miniskirt, gold corset and short, flouncy sleeved lounge jacket.
For two reasons, whenever I have a corset for a show, we replace the ribbon in the back with black elastic. The first reason is that the cris-crossing creates enough torsion to have the desired cosseting effect but with the bonus of letting me breathe, which is fairly essential for a singer. The second reason is that the little bit of stretch allows me to slide in and out of them quickly during a change, especially when I’m changing alone.
For some reason, when we’d done this with the gold corset, we’d used really thin elastic. I don’t know why. But it had been fine before, so we ran with it. As I slid into it, I said to my friend backstage “Just yank the loose end and it’ll tighten.” Then I could put my hair on and go.
“Shit, It’s snapped!” He replied. There was nothing we could do! I had about ten seconds to get out there and into position to start the next song. I’d just have to hope that there was enough elastic left threaded to hold it up for the duration of the song. On the plus side, this outfit was for just one song. The downside being that this was my heaviest number for choreography in the whole show, so more movement means more slipping.
As I put my wig on, I sighed, hoping this would all hold together. Little did I know this would be the least of my worries once I got out there. Not only the slipping corset to contend with, I was also using a headset microphone, so the cable and battery pack transmitter had to be placed somewhere, so in haste, I opted for stuffing it into the bra, being the only place I could find. This was fine.
So, before I knew it, I was out there. Although we’d had a couple of little stumbles during the quick change, I was really excited to be finally doing ‘Vogue’ complete with dancers, choreography and a headset mic. I’d been dreaming of this since I was about five years old and I would re-enact Madonna’s iconic video in my bedroom. Nothing was going to ruin this moment! Or was it?
Here I was, out there, living my best life, singing my tits off, thwacking the thunderclap fan I had in my hand and giving my very best dramatic flouncing. I could see my best friend down the front and, towards the end of the first chorus, I saw his eyes widen and a giggle escape. I saw another of our friends lean over and whisper something before the two of them giggled some more. I remember yanking up my corset and attempting to make it look like part of the choreography, which ended up happening several time throughout the song. Reasonably, I thought “Ahhh, that’s what they’re giggling at!”
But, it wasn’t though, was it? Of course not.
So, We got to the end of the song, rapturous applause, you know the drill. It was the end of the first half and it was interval time, so I headed out of the backstage fire escape for a quick smoke before the next change. I was really happy with the first half and just as happy to be having a few minutes break and some fresh air, as not only is drag quite warm, but add the dancing, the changes and a room full of people and I was sweating my tits off, so some air was a great idea.
As I ascended the few but steep steps up to the back door onto the backstreet behind the hotel, I noticed something. A shift had taken place. You know…. There.
Those of you with man parts to hide will know that sometimes, they have a mind of their own, no matter how well secured you thought they were. There’s also that feeling when you can feel a bit of elastic where it shouldn’t be and know that something has moved. It was then I got iced just how ‘mini’ my miniskirt had become, as it had ridden up quite substantially.
Now, I just want to clarify, I hadn’t exposed myself to a room full of people, as everything was still completely covered, but what had happened was I’d had top leave the nude underwear on all through the first half, as the opening outfit was a nude-illusion beaded outfit and there wasn’t enough time to change all the undergarments during the first half. The problem was, the gusset of the nude underwear is quite narrow. The nude control pants were over several layers, including base underwear (which was black), padded bum pants (also black) and my tights. However, as something had shifted, it appears that one part of my crotch region had decided to go on a not-so-secret mission out the side and, being covered in black fabric, was quite noticeable against the nude fabric. In concert with the skirt riding up, some more eagle eyed members of the crowd had got quite a view.
In fact, Madonna’s song celebrating Underground Ball culture had, in my rendition, brought an unintentional celebration of a different type of ball altogether!
As it dawned on me, I laughed (or probably cackled) loudly and heartily. There’s no point being upset about it, it’s done. And the truth is, it WAS funny! As I burst out of the fire exit doors cackling, I scared the crap out of the group of people in the street outside who had just been walking their dogs and having a little late evening chat. I apologise, the sight of a nearly seven-foot drag queen unexpectedly bursting out of the doors (and her own outfit) must have caused quite a shock to them, so I calmed down enough to casually nod and say “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Before giggling to myself again. My best friend came out and joined me, along with the dancers and I said “I think I might have realised what you were laughing at…”
He just laughed and told me that there was a magical moment where he could see the realisation travel through the crowd and two weeks later, he’s still giggling about it.
The silver lining is that I had a fabulous story for my monologue in the second half of the show. I decided to own it as there was no point in ignoring it. Plus, it was funny! Laughing about it stops it being the elephant in the room. An elephant I wasn’t going to be upstaged by. That’s right, there’s only room for one elephant in my show, and that’s me! The morals of this story are, things move, check the damn nuts, watch your knob, never take yourself too seriously and don’t, under any circumstances, buy your tuck-tape from a pound-shop.
As I got to the monologue part just after the opening song, confident that everything was back where it belonged, I asked “So, who wants to hear a funny story? It involved the end of Part One…”. When I heard the roars of laughter, I knew I was onto a winner.
And so, we laughed for a few minutes. Over a load of old bollocks.
Sometimes it’s the simple things.
