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| Volume 11, No. 49 |
September 1-7, 2010 |
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| | Armed with pink fros and the dougie, “Drag Race” stars put it down | | By Michelle Messick | | 
When little boys are asked what they want to be when they grow up, most of them say something typical like doctors and astronauts. Boring. I wonder what Hedda Lettuce wanted to be back when he was little Steven Polito in fourth grade. Probably a dentist. Ugh.
Well, when I was a little girl I never thought I would grow up to be a total – let’s not offend anyone here, so you fill in the blank – “___ hag.” The good kind of hag, with an army of gay male friends. That kind of hag. So before I begin my review of last Saturday’s drag show at The OP, I should probably make it clear that drag queens are MY FREAKING CUP OF TEA.
When I was younger, girls my age were playing with their Malibu Barbie. I just couldn’t be bothered with that, not when Divine and her infamous eyebrows and RuPaul existed in this world. The first time I heard RuPaul sassily utter the words “You better work,” it was like hearing angels sing. So when I heard that “Rupaul’s Drag Race” Season Two contestants Nina Flowers and Jessica Wild would be gracing El Paso with their fine-womanly-glitterfied presence, I knew it was going to be fierce.
Catching a glimpse of the cloaked Jessica Wild secretly making her way to the dressing room before the show made me giddy like a schoolgirl – a schoolgirl with a passion for men in heels and fierce makeup. The show didn’t start on time, but then again when are queens ever punctual? Plus, who wants to be the one to give someone who’s 6’4” in stilettos with better hair and a bigger rack than most of Earth’s female population advice about being on time? Not me.
Local talent opened up the show. Eve Star did her thang to Britney Spears, sparkly nude body suit and all. In a purple feathered-contraption of an outfit, Kimora Lee worked it, followed by Kat D. Foxx rocking it out to Paramore in fishnets and boots, then she busted out the bass line and got ghetto on us. Someone tell me, did I really see a drag queen do the dougie for a split second? Either way, we loved every minute of it.
The lovely ladies collected their dolla dolla bills and made way for Nina Flowers to come out with her guns blazing. And by guns, I mean hot pink spandex and afro. Skin tight body suit be damned, ’cause girl got down. The make up, flawless. Outfit, fierce. Performance, faaaabulous. It. Was. Glorious.
Then, it was time. What we had all been waiting for. What brought us together – the twinks and the butch, the male and the female (and those in between), the straight and gay and heteroflexible.
There she was. Jessica (honey, you totally got robbed on “Drag Race,” and Tyra was a total skank) Wild! Just when you think you’re going to explode with overwhelming excitement, and you can’t possibly take it any longer, she dropped an atom bomb. No … No, no no … she dropped the Gaga bomb, looking fierce, performing in all black with tousled hair, rolling around on money to a Lady Gaga medley.
These two Puerto Rican mamis did their thing. Did I mention it was fierce?
Correction: The print edition of this story lists Luna Di Santi as one of the local openers. It was actually Kat D. Foxx. We apologize for the error.
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