radiopeter

Now it’s time for a musical interlude:

Life takes you up, and it can take you down
Like a hurricane it blows your feelings all around
But here we are, back on solid ground
Ain’t it funny how one day you’re lost and then you’re found

And now we’re together, with someone to catch us when we fall
Now we’re together, and nothing else matters at all

When you go from

Rags to riches, all your wishes
Suddenly come true
And it’s a new begining, a chance at winning
This time we can’t lose
…Changin’ these rags to
Rags to riches
This time we can’t lose
Rags to riches!

My god I loved that theme song. Tisha Campbell on the lower 3rd and the holler. Yay 1988! ANYWAY…

Photo by Rick Aguilar

By now you’ve looked at the picture in this post and asked yourself “Self, who is that vision in the cream dress with the platinum flip and the tasteful single strand of pearls?” Milliseconds later you realize that it is Peter Mavrik, painted and powdered for the back row.

Ain’t no shame in my game.

I’m not new to the drags. Many years ago (I think in the early 1630’s) I used to paint my face, slither into my denim coochie cutters, slip on my fishnets, pumps, wig, and head out to the clubs. And coochie cutters, for those who don’t know, are those indecent short-shorts that tend to display a little more of the candy shop than most mothers would prefer. You know the ones.

Back in the wayback, drag was my way to get in bars before I was 21. A fiercely painted face and my 36 C’s tended to get me into most gay bars without the need to show my ID. It was dumb, illegal, exciting, and one of the biggest rushes I’ve ever experienced.

I can’t forget the first time I was in Fusion on the walkway above the dance floor. I think it was the summer of 1634. I looked down and saw a throbbing sea of shirtless men. Martha Wash was, from the speakers, commanding everybody to dance now. I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and got the spins so bad I nearly passed out. As I faltered, a handsome slab of beefcake caught me in his big guns and cooed in my ear “Careful gurl. You’ve got to maintain honey chile.”

It didn’t help that I weighed 104 pounds and had four drinks in under an hour.

Once I righted myself and got a glass of water with a straw (mind the lipstick), I stood leaning on the railing for what seemed like hours. Below me were hundreds of men who liked men and knew all the words to every CeCe Penniston, EnVogue, Toni Braxton, Deborah Cox, AND Ace of Base song. Just like me. Except there I was, in heels, giving them fem realness.

As time passed and I began to develop friendships with the door folks, I started wearing less makeup and dressing more masculine. In time, I was able to into most places as a guy. Drag was my ticket into the gay nightlife world, but I never wanted to be a woman. I know plenty of folks from that time that are either in the process of becoming women, or already are.

And so a new chapter begins in my life.

The stage reading of L’imitation of Life marks my first acting gig in drag as an adult. I used to lip-sync and go-go in face in the late 1800’s, but I’ve never acted as a 8 year old girl, much less a 16 year old ingenue with a penchant for knives.

In truth, it ain’t easy. I have to keep much more control in my voice than I ever thought. My cats must think I’m bonkers because I keep babbling to myself out loud at home in my young Suzie Turner voice and my teenage Sandra Dee pitch. I was reading Chapterhouse: Dune out loud last night, trying to find where the characters live in my throat. It’s challenging, but also fun as hell, and I’m blessed to be working with a team of actors who are the bee’s knees.

Ed Jones cracks me up with a glance, Mike Miller, the man of a million voices, is so over-the-top funny, and Chad McLaughlin is delicious to work with. Aaron Holland as Annie is ebonically brilliant and Laura Korn is a ham from Hamville and plays a crazy girl with ease.

Our director/costumer/producer David Cerda, who also has a role in the show (!), has a wickedly sharp sense of comedy. I don’t know how he does it, but he’ll give a note that turns a flat line into pure comedy. It’s so very Handbag.

Do you live in Chicago? Can you make it to the show? I’d love to see you there…

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 19th, 2008 and is filed under blogpost. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.