By Angela Gardner
Hello my little crumpets. The Diva has
experienced a busy whirl of activity since last month. The biggest
thing that kept me occupied for one day, at least, was that little
party on the Hudson, Wigstock.
September sixth I wore my most sensible platform sandals, short
shorts, and animal print top to take to the turnpike and journey to
Manhattan. It was a beautiful day for glamour, sunny but not to hot,
with a cool breeze to waft the finery of the multitude. There was a
brief backup at the tunnel when all that man made wig fiber
(concentrated in one place as the queens converged from all over the
East Coast) started to coagulate in the tunnel heat and oily
atmosphere, and it was only though the valiant efforts of an heroic
hairdresser from Hackensack, who utilized an industrial strength
detangler, that the clog was broken and the bewigged multitudes broke
through to Manhattan.
What's It All About?
Wigstock is all about wigs. That was the spirit behind the first
Wigstock, lo those many years ago. Gimme hair down to there! As long
as it's Mod Acrylic. Now, the focus has blurred. While the majority
still proudly wear their wigs, others have moved into different areas
of personal expression. There were outlandish outfits, piercings,
wild makeup, leather, rubber, and several people in just plain shorts
and Ts. (What's up with that?) There were men in women's clothes,
women in men's clothes, gay people, straight people, bi people, and
probably a few aliens. There were wigs every where, from the top of
the giant screen television halfway down the pier, to a bewigged
foot, and a small, radio controlled car called the Drag Buggy.
Despite some technical problems ("Honey, we're gonna need more
monitors than that!" "Oh my God, where's my lash adhesive?") the show
got started on regular old "drag time," supposed to be 2 , but closer
to 3.

All the while the crowd kept streaming in. The police were
stopping traffic on the West Side Highway so the revelers could cross
and make their way to the pier. Crowds of onlookers gathered on the
East side of the highway and availed themselves of the many
opportunities to get that special photo or video of the good, the
bad, and the ugly.
My attorney, Leslie, (I never go out in public without good legal
advice) and I wandered around the basic black (faded to gray) asphalt
pier and snapped pics of the most wonderful costumes. On the way in
we ran into Village Voice columnist Michael
Musto on his way to cover the event.
Michael had his wig in hand and he paused, after
we had compared notes on what it's like to be well known reporters
for major media outlets, and got his coif adjusted. I think you'll
agree it's a good look for him.
There was a warm, fuzzy sense of well being attached to the day.
It was relaxed and pleasant to be there with all the other wig fans
feelings no doubt brought on by the positive psychic vibes of
the day that were amplified by the giant screen televisions and
energy of the professional drag artistes... or maybe it was that
Bloody Mary I had with brunch in the Village. It took me back to my
college days attending outdoor rock shows. Unlike back then I neither
had a jug of soda half full of hooch in a paper bag, nor did I get a
horrible sunburn. A sensible Diva always has her #48 sun block at
hand during the summer months.
Visit the Wigstock Pictorial for many
more fab photos.
Back to Studio 54
As a young Diva I missed the glory days of Studio 54, the club
that defined Disco back in the 70s. I was a manly rocker back in
those days and dutifully hated Disco. Just goes ta show how a girl, er, boy can chang in 20 years. It wasn't till the 80s that I
got in touch with my big haired, overly madeup femme self and hit the
New York club scene. So, it was fun to get a call from Spike Lee
Productions to appear in a film called Summer of Sam. It's set in 1977. What
did they want me to do, you ask? Be a drag queen, honey! Ah,
typecasting at work again. A couple of Fridays ago it was back up the
Turnpike to 54th Street (through some of the worst merging at the
Lincoln Tunnel that I've ever seen) to get gussied up for Spike. I
admit to some disappointment when I found that I was not to be the
only TG lovely on the set. Most notable for their participation were
the fabulous Gem Gender and the hot little honey I worked with
a few years back in the film Stonewall, Baroness Fiona.
The Baroness is sexier than ever, and Miss Gem's corset was oh so
tight.
Our role in the film was to be part of the crowd outside the club
waiting to be picked to enter. As we stand there with the other
background types, but looking more fab, of course, the stars
John Lequizamo (looking a lot like Travolta
in Saturday Night Fever) and Mira Sorvino
attempt to enter the club. They are subjected to haughty rebuke from
the door staff, and just as they are about to leave John
Savitch comes out of the club with his entourage. (He's a
kind-of macho Warhol.) He sees the hapless couple, takes their
picture, and then cajoles them into coming along in his limo to a
really hopping place.
While it made for a great scene, it dashed any hopes I had of
appearing at the bar in an intimate little scene with either John.
When the film arrives in theaters look for my back. They had me all
in silver, including a silver mylar wig. Miss Gender told me that she
has auditioned for a major role in a film that will start shooting
soon. It's top secret right now, so this Diva is not allowed to
breath (or type) a word. If Miss Gender get's the role I'll tell you
all about it.
That's it for this month my precious pets. I've gotta go soak my
feet. Those silver pumps are killers. Till next time, check out the Wigstock Pictorial, and big kiss!
The Diva is a busy woman who just can't read every page on the web and
every newspaper. If you come across any juicy dish send it along to The Diva.
|