Well, lovers, I had to share this captivatingly odd conversation between scouse sex bomb Margi Clarke and Morrissey because it's so charmingly morose.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Since it's Mothering Sunday I thought I would celebrate the wonderful tradition of drag mothering, as a way to say thank you to the fine ladies who taught me how to tap into my inner glamourpuss. Unusually perhaps, my drag mothers were real gurls, sparkling cis-gendered ladies from whom I learnt a lot of amazing tricks. And all yanks too.
My first drag mother was Gigi Giuffre, who was the first person to ever shave my legs, and it took FOREVER. She dressed me up as Lucille Ball once, and was the first person to play me Judy Garland Live at Carnegie Hall. Canonical.
Ready for The Glammy Awards
New Years Eve in Times Square
When I lived in New York my dear friend Legs Malone helped me broaden my horizons and helped me distinguish the good quality drug store cosmetics from the bad. She bought me my very own liquid eyeliner too!
The Golden Pasties Ceremony
Backstage at Galapagos
And then there was Darlinda Just Darlinda, who was probably more of a drag sister, but STILL. She kept the old Cockettes glitter and tits aesthetic alive, and introduced me to iridescent cream powders as a base for glitter.
Late one night on Hope ST
Theatre for the New City
And a special mention of course to Enya Buttox the mother of The House of Box, whose eternally disorganised cupboard kept me clothed through many cold nights in the gutter.
Boxing Day in NYC