While in college, it’s safe to say that most people find themselves in interesting situations. Especially when they’re a naïve undergrad who agrees to anything asked of them.
While runway shows were one of my favorite projects, I had a particular experience that was a little different.
My favorite runway show will always be the one that landed me in a gay bar.
A friend of mine from the fashion department worked at an upscale boutique. This boutique was doing a fashion show and she needed some extra models. Though I was very much an amateur runway model, I agreed to help her out. She gave me the information and thanked me graciously.
I showed up on the night of the show to learn that the show was being held at a popular gay bar in town. Having never been in a gay bar before, I was a little nervous. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Since it was before opening time, there were only a couple of bartenders stocking the bar. I walked past them and down to the basement, where I had been instructed to go. As I came down the stairs I found myself in the middle of a huge dressing room full of drag queens.
They all had on pounds of make up but were not dressed yet. Instead they wore bras, panties, and silk robes. No one seemed to notice me, but my friend located me and ushered me back to where the models for the show were getting ready. She explained that right before the fashion show, there was going to a drag queen beauty pageant. She shrugged and laughed at the fact that she had no idea these two shows were on the same night.
I looked at the other models and soon realized I was out of my league. Most, if not all of them were professionals. A couple of the other girl models asked who my agent was. They proceeded to tell me where all they had worked and what local ads I could find their photo in. Great. I could see it in their eyes. “Amateur girl, what are you doing here?”
As the night went on, I learned that drag queens take longer to get ready than most females. One of them, who we’ll call “Shelly”, told us that he/she had been there since 4 that afternoon. I was amazed how they all wanted everything to look so perfect. They really took pride in their appearance. Another queen who we’ll call “Terri” explained that this was his/her third show this week. Terri considered her/himself a semi-professional queen. The whole experience was fascinating.
While my own hair was being done by a professional stylist, my friend offered me a drink. She had made a special citrusy drink for the other models to have during show preparation. Because I was so thirsty I gulped two glasses before realizing that the drink was laced with vodka. I had drunk it so fast that my head started to spin. This was already a weird situation, so why not have a third glass.
My friend handed me my outfit for the show; tight black shorts and a red silky top. She then told me how “Arabella” would be doing my makeup. It turns out Arabella is none other than, the most glamorous drag queen in the room. Flaunting a lacy tank top and black mini skirt in his/her six foot frame, Arabella motioned for me to come over.
“Sit right here,” Arabella instructed. She/he proceeded to apply makeup to my face. I could feel that it was way more than I had ever put on myself. Arabella and I continued to make small talk with I looked down, seeing right down Arabella’s shirt. I saw a bra cupping two nude colored foam balls. Interesting. I quickly looked away not wanting to be caught looking down the shirt. When Arabella finished, I indeed looked like a drag queen. I thanked Arabella for the application and wished him/her luck in the show.
I can’t remember who won the beauty contest; I just remember how elaborate their outfits were. I couldn’t get over how nice they actually looked. My own show, the fashion show went well also. I remember being on the runway in a cloud of smoke, with Justin Timberlake bringing sexy back, and a large anxious crowd watching my every move. I practically ran off the stage when my turn was up. I could feel the eyes on me pointing me out as the non-professional.
When the show was over, I put my black dress back on that I came in, took one more look around the dressing room, and went out into the bar with my crazy hair and makeup still in tact. I was headed straight for the door, when a woman at the bar looked me up and down and gave me a head nod. I smiled brightly and made my way to the door.
None of the other fashion shows I participated compared to that one. It still stands as one of my favorite memories from college.
I can tell my grandchildren one day about the time I unpretentiously agreed to do a runway show for a friend who may or may not have mentioned that the show was being held at a gay bar on drag queen pageant night, allowing me to have my hair and makeup done by a man wearing a bra and fake boobs, all while being surrounded by beautiful professional models.
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