Dylan Jones meets the drag queens who don’t do drag for a living…they do it because they’re LIVING.
It’s a blustery night in the leafy borough of Belsize Park. Helena Bonham-Carter sits in the window of a boutique restaurant enjoying a £9 glass of cabernet. A gorgeous waiter at Carluccio’s on Haverstock Hill weighs down an expensive Egyptian cotton tablecloth with a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. And in a basement flat on a quiet terraced street, two drag queens are getting ready to go to an S&M night in Elephant & Castle.
“It’s not a basement flat,” says Gina, turning from the mirror, cigarette in one hand, glass of champagne in the other. “It’s a garden maisonette. You fucking cunt.”
We’re at the gracious residence of Gina Gee. The décor is a melding of classical and modern. Understated antiques with cutting-edge design. An oak dining table here, a Bang & Olufson phone there. The overall impression is of a woman of the world, one who knows how to have fun.
“I think true drag queens don’t create themselves or have to think of how to behave; they just are,” says Gina, stubbing out her cigarette on a copy of Lovers & Players by Jackie Collins. “They are born drag queens and the clothes and the make-up just bring that out. Drag queens must have something special, something compelling, something amazing about them. Without that characteristic you’re just man in a wig. There’s no such thing as an ‘average drag queen’. If you’re average, give up.”
By day, Gina holds a high-powered office job in the city, as one of the most well-respected people in her field. It’s a male-dominated, conservative environment, a world of pressed suits, business lunches and moneyed responsibility. It makes for a harsh contrast to her non-working life, much of which is spent sliding down a pole in Savage, or on the floor of G-A-Y Late. For her, drag is a release.
“In the context of a life where I have to spend 95% of my time wearing a suit and being judged on my stoicism and intellect, it’s so refreshing to be able to spend the odd night staggering around London in a stripper dress and knee-high boots, being judged on the campness of my eyebrow highlight and the length of my legs,” she says.
“For many drag queens, drag is primarily about delivering an outward-looking statement to the world. The most obvious examples are drag queens who perform on stage and get an enormous sense of pleasure, excitement and fulfilment from that.”
The French windows burst open and a blonde bombshell in a cocktail dress storms in. Enter Courtney Dix, Jetsetter, international party girl, and general lady of the night. Originally from Russia, Courtney has a day job as a fashion designer. By night, she sits in dusky cocktail bars with one hand holding a martini glass and the other sliding up the leg of a wealthy Saudi businessman. She kisses the photographer on the cheek and settles luxuriantly on the sofa, pouring herself a glass of champagne.
“There’s no such thing as an ‘average drag queen’. If you’re average, give up.”
“I feel fabulous when I’m in drag,” she says. “It’s like being on everyone’s hot list. You see the world in a different way. Things you didn’t notice before suddenly appear bringing a whole new experience and perception of places and people around you.”
Though they sport distinct looks and emerge from very different cultural and social backgrounds, Gina and Courtney have one thing in common; they both do drag for the abandon, the outrage, the shock, the joy. They’ve never DJ’d, never done paid PA’s, never lipsynced on stage to Liza Minnelli. And they don’t want to.
“I have no desire to perform on stage,” says Gina, shrugging. “My drag is primarily an inward-looking psychological adventure and a chance to express a part of my personality that rarely gets to make an appearance otherwise.”
As makeup artist Lauren O’Donnell flits back and forth with brushes, and photographer Cé Ó Coileáin sets up his equipment, we discuss other people’s perceptions of their unique brand of drag.
“One of the reactions that I always get from people is that my look screams sex and sexuality,” Gina says. “I never, ever intended this to be the case, so it came as a surprise. A lot of people perceive Gina as a sexual being. This aspect of life as Gina is one of the key things that keeps me coming back to find out more. My experiences in drag over a relatively short time have given me more of an insight into what makes people tick than all of my years spent in boy mode.”
Courtney daintily sips some champagne through a straw. “I seriously don’t care how people see me,” she says. “I’m not doing it for anyone but myself. It’s like a hobby for me.”
Something that intrigues both girls is how men react to their appearance as women. A glamazon standing at over seven feet tall in heels, everyone is bowled by Gina Gee. Sometimes literally. And Courtney’s ass deserves an Academy Award. Both cut a striking silhouette and attract plenty of male attention, from both gay and straight men.
“It’s so interesting to see how people react,” says Gina, who often storms down Old Compton Street in nothing but a bra and pants. “It upsets, it can anger, it confuses and, more often than not, it intrigues.”
Courtney nods. “I’ve learned that most men see their dream girl or a realisation of their dirty fantasy in Courtney,” she says. “It’s like a forbidden fruit they’ve heard so much about and now finally have it in front of them. As for girls, it’s usually envy.”
Gina sips an Evian water and nibbles a humble salad as she philosophises further on how the world might see her, and how she might want the world to see her.
“What do I want people to think about Gina? I guess when I started out doing drag, I had all these ideas about what it would take to be a ‘successful’ drag queen who is respected,” she says. “I wanted to have the best makeup, the best look, the biggest shoes – the best everything, I suppose. I’m more realistic about what I can achieve now, especially compared to some of the other drags out there, who create looks that are out-of-this-fucking-world.”
She lights another cigarette and pulls on a pair of sky-high electric green heels. A musclebound Adonis pops up on her phone. Courtney leans over and has a look. “Oh I wouldn’t bother with him darling,” she says. “I already slept with him in Moscow last year.”
Gina wordlessly puts her phone down and goes back to her salad. I ask her what the aim of her drag is. What she wants people to think. What she hopes people think.
“It has turned mostly into a thing that I do for myself,” she says. “Rather than to seek approbation from others. That being said, one of the points of my drag is to create a visual impression and cause an upset, so it’s nice when people let me know that I’ve been successful in doing that. And, of course, it’s always lovely to receive compliments about looking good and stuff. I work fairly hard at the gym and I like Gina to look strong and fit – I’m not bad for an old girl, I guess!”
“Some people collect stamps. We do drag.”
Another aspect of how the world sees them is the reactions of other drag queens on the scene. Many are thrown by the fact that Gina and Courtney aren’t doing it for a reason. Or at least, not a reason they can understand. It’s a common perception, especially on the London gay scene, that if you’re not getting paid, you’re not doing drag.
“There’s sometimes a sense that other drag queens don’t believe you’re really doing drag unless you appear on stage and earn money for performing,” says Gina. “There is in fact an element of performance to my drag, but it’s more about visual and psychological impact based on my height, body shape and the way I move – you kind of have to meet me in person for this to come across. It’s this visual and psychological impact that’s at the heart of what makes Gina work as a drag queen.”
Gina swats the photographer aside and pulls the front door open as an Uber Exec cruises silently up the drive. “There are so many different types of drag and different definitions of drag,” she says. “It’s a sense of campness, of challenge and of anarchy. For me, it’s about creating an impact, causing psychological upset and projecting an image that you’ll never forget. It delivers a sense of freedom, a sense of fun. Above all else, it’s an adventure.”
Courtney finishes applying her lipstick, chucks it into her Chanel clutch, and stands up, tossing her hair. “It’s just about how you see it,” she says, shrugging. “Some people collect stamps. We do drag.”
