Strike The Pose

"I'm having a quiet weekend"

Or so I kept on telling myself as I stood on line trying to keep my Yohji Yamamoto apron/kilt from dragging on the sidewalk, avoiding the sprinkles of ash tumbling from a cigarette attached to the pneumatic, vinyl glossed lips of a 7 foot drag queen towering behind me.

"I'm sorry, could you mind the ash? This is a Gaultier"

"I'm sorry honey, my bad. Love your Chanel bag by the way"

"Thanks."

Despite my best laid plans to spend the evening pottering around my apartment with a glass of sauvignon blanc I found myself invited to the annual Latex Ball, a highlight in the Ballroom Party circuit. Now to the uninitiated, a Ballroom party is an event that is simply beyond imagination. Originally a underground scene involving gay African American and Latino men, a Ballroom event is essentially a night long competition where 'houses' pit their members against each other in vogueing battles and runway walk offs. Thats right, vogue is alive and well in New York City and lord it is fierce!

Worlds away from the genteel and predominantly white, upper middle middle class gays that society has become so accustomed to, the crowd at a Ballroom event consists primarily of black and hispanic teens dressed to the nines in what can only be described as haute couture viewed through the very murky lens of ghetto fabulous. There were little black boys in scarlet latex minis and killer patent leather high tops and my personal favorite, an ultra skinny Latino boy vogueing and posing for his life in tight white clam diggers and Nine West kitten heels. But never forget, these bitches are prissy but they will fuck. you. up.

Dominating the ballroom is a gigantic runway where the battles take place to thumping vocal tech house. Honestly, some of tracks played would have been right at home at Filter during its hey day. The new style of vogue is also a sight to behold





The atmosphere was absolutely, astoundingly electric. The runway was pretty much open to anybody and all one had to do was to climb on work it and let the crowd decide whether they should stay or get off. The energy and sense of unity and community was amazing. Quite frankly, I've never encountered this kind of exuberance at a gay club or event. Ever.

So the moral of story is:

Wear what the fuck you want.

Be who you the fuck you want to be. Butch, Femme, All American, Bear Daddy, Teen Queen, whatever.

Work it.