God Save the Queen.
The first stage of grief is denial. "Oh they've been threatening to close
for years…" It happened. The touchstone of anyone who loves rhinestones
is gone forever. The Empress Dowager is at rest, the Bitchy Diva has uttered
her last Bon Mot; The Queen Mary Show Lounge is closed.
A few people I know showed up, expecting it to be open. One girl at Lydia's
was morosely tearing herself down after having dressed to the nines for
a trip down Ventura to the world's most famous Tranny Bar. Rumor has it
that it will be a Turkish restaurant; I envision confused men in fezzes
seating even more confused Tall Women With Deep Voices for months, if
not years.
The Queen had been a place where men had dressed like women since the
forties; in those days, performers had to wear male clothing from the
waist down to stay within the law.
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Niki ,Jen, Becky: aren't we all beautiful?
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In 1997, I was very tall brunette on
her third trip "out" I wore a black velvet Jim Bridges dress, corsetless
belly protruding just a bit much, wearing sensible, two-inch heel slings,
shyly walking in to the Queen Mary and asking about a girl I'd met online,
Niki. We met, hit it off big and within two months had rented an apartment
a mile away on Whitsett with two other "girls" and all hell broke loose.
The place became nicknamed "the Slutte Hutte".
The Queen Mary was the center of our wicked, splendid, out-of-control,
overblown new lives as Very Bad Girls. We flirted, fought, got driven
back to the apartment, dodged the cops, dodged the landlady, outraged
the public, held hands, patted asses, made up, dressed up, made love,
wore feathers, traded wigs, traded dresses, traded boyfriends, traded
gossip, and drove home, toenails still painted red, to very angry wives
in broad daylight.
Wherever we invincible four or five were headed, like Dragstrip 66 for
example, Niki would always say "C'mon..we gotta have JUST ONE at the QM…..!!"
It was never just one, and often we never made it anywhere else. I learned
to smoke, be bad, bat my eyes, dance like a girl, hate panty hose, gossip,
bitch and cry in bathrooms at the Queen.
What will I miss? Everything.
The drunken Bachelorettes in the ladies room taking pictures with me,
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| Becky, Darya Brigitte(aka Barbi) Life outside the closet in WeHo |
Laurie laughing and shaking her booty, Deana slyly snarling at an oblivious Newbie, Frank acting official as he guarded the door, The "hooker bus" pulling in at 11:21 on Saturday night, the mind bogglingly inappropriate jukebox selections, Bobby Junior smiling through it all, The silent wall of terrified men, the out-of-towners, gay boys, the happy dancing dykes, comparing outfits, conspiring, Aaron brothers parking lot, catcalls from Ventura, The Bank, Sequins, Ancient Disco, Madonna impersonators, baby spots, dollar bills, wandering hands, freezing on the patio, sweating on the dance floor, gorgeous outfits, new girls, old queens, horrible outfits, catfights, catty whispers,
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PERFECT WIND TUNNEL: 3 BLONDES
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Brandi, Darya, Niki in front of the slutte
hutte's
infamous wall of used underwear |
annoying and charming foreigners, negotiations,
spilling, choking on smoke and borrowing lipstick…. For a moment, I can
go back to that feeling of owning the world on a freezing winter night,
clip-clopping in our platforms down the back alley toward the back door,
bitching over lost nails, trying to sneak in a last smoke…Niki, Darya,
Becky, Bev, Brandy, arm in arm, laughing our asses off.. Goodbye, Old
Girl, we'll miss you. Nowhere else will ever be the QM.
Darya