I would like to make it clear that I do not usually take my top
off in a toilet cubicle and show a complete stranger my breasts,
but on this particular Sunday I made an exception.
I was at Candy Bar meeting Lisa, aka Flirty Bertie, to do a Drag
King Workshop. I wasn't sure exactly what to expect but I was
hoping I would end up with a moustache at some point. Anyway, I was
nervous and resorted to the Dutch courage technique of beer
drinking. With the workshop about to start, the area seemed
strangely quiet. Lisa explained; "Brighton and London are always
hard to break. Everyone up North is so welcoming but here it's
different." I looked round and she was right, the bar wasn't jam
packed but you would have thought some of the punters would relish
the thought of being dressed up. My friend looked at me and we both
knew what was coming; "guess I'll be dragging you two up then" says
Lisa.
Being the gent that I am (ha!), I let my friend get dragged up
first. She seemed to enjoy it and we went to the pub next door to
test her look. No-one batted an eyelid; I guess she made a good
man. We went back to Candy and a line of women had started to queue
for drawn on moustaches and I was having a good time. The staff, as
always, got into the true spirit of things and were wearing stick
on moustaches, not dis-similar to those worn by The Village People.
Just as I was about to request a rendition of YMCA, it happened.
Lisa turned to me and says "it's your turn." One last gulp of beer
and off we go.
So, like I said, I was topless in a toilet cubicle, ready to be
dragged. First, my chest was bound and, honestly, I never thought
it would hold. I have quite large boobs (not bragging…) and I
thought there was no way anything was going to hold them down. But
a tight bandage, two control tops and a striped shirt later they
looked like pecs. Then I was packed down below; I got cocky and
tried quite a large plastic penis, but it looked ridiculous in my
jeans so, sadly, I had to resort to a smaller, more humble
appendage. Lastly, I sprayed my hair back, Lisa gave me facial hair
and I was good to go. I was a man, of sorts.
It was strange, not in a bad way. I just suddenly felt like I
had a different kind of confidence. I was strutting around, being
all manly and cool. "People ask me 'so do you want to be a man?'
But it's not about that; it's about finding inner confidence. I can
drag up and walk around like this in Manchester and have no
trouble," muses my new pal Bertie (Lisa) as we chill outside the
bar like men about the town. I just didn't understand though, I was
having a lot of fun. Why wasn't everyone doing this? Why were
people so reluctant to get involved? And especially here in
London?
I was sad to be wiping off my moustache; it suited me but Lisa
had to go. I could definitely see why women were doing this. "It
started when I had a drag queen as a lodger," explains Lisa,
sipping her cider. "I was fascinated by how she applied her make-up
and dressed up." And now I was fascinated too.
I would, hand on heart, recommend one of Flirty Bertie's
workshops to anyone. Dragged up, you feel totally different and,
embarrassingly, feel the need to adjust your package quite
regularly. Or maybe that's just me. Either way, try it - you might
love it. You never know, you might suit a real moustache. I
wouldn't stop waxing your top lip if I were you though, not just
yet anyway…
To find out more about Flirty Bertie and the world of Drag
Kings, visit flirtybertiedragking.weebly.com
You should also really follow Sarah on Twitter:
@sleevsie22 It's only polite.
