Vicky Vogue Vaudeville

I sang and played at a Vicky Vogue Vaudeville show last night. Vicky only goes her act for charity, which right away tells you she’s my kind of female impersonator.
Such a nuanced topic: drag, female impersonation, as opposed to intergendered, transgendered, as opposed to crossdressing hetero, as opposed to... too many straight people give up and just can’t relate to any of it, and they are really missing out – especially the VVV shows. She has straight performers as well as LGBTQCIT (did I miss anything there?).
I’ve noticed a generational divide of sorts concerning drag acts. Many younger people, especially the gay men I know, are so “OVER the rainbow,” they refuse to attend any shows that feature drag. Others only like the modern style, which is so “femme” that you can hardly tell there was a boy inside at some point: implants, hormones and plastic surgery have blurred the lines of gender.
While I used to struggle with the concept of intergendered and transgendered people, I’ve been educated by friends like Michelle and read some books (including texts that Lex read for pastoral studies at Colgate Rochester Crozer. I found out that the old adage of “XX=female and XY=male” barely scratches the surface of the complexities of gender. We are, every single one of us, a big stewpot of Xs and Ys, in various amounts and configurations. (Fascinating, no? This must explain my fondness for grilling, as well as my taste in shoes!)
Back to Vicky. She’s “old school,” which doesn’t mean OLD by any means – she has the heart and humor of a little kid – a little kid in gold-sparkled high heels and a shocking pink bouffant! Vicky is the kind of act my mom used to see, the kind I used to attend in the early 80s: Show tunes and BIG wigs. Wigstock kind of drag. Big and bawdy and so obviously Y-chromosome-endowed (!) under the gown. No “Crying Game” surprises here, strictly in-your-face entertainment by performers who not only love Judy Garland, they can lip-synch the entire version of “Dear Mr. Gable, You Made Me Love You,” with the spoken verse that starts off, “Oh gee, Mr. Gable, I don’t wanna bother you...” (Yeah, I know, I know. I do the same song, the only difference being I don’t lip-synch and my clothes are WAY less spectacular. But the devotion is the same for us all.)
Riding up in the elevator, I met up with my buddy Jim, along with his friend Jeff – who was lugging a guitar and little amp. “Gosh,” said Jim, surveying all the equipment on the floor of the elevator, “I feel like we should be followed by seven children.” I asked why, and Jim smiled, “Because we look like the Von Trappes!” We cracked up, and then Jeff (a man young enough to be my son) said, “What’s a Von Trappe?”
“No, seriously, hon, the Von Trappes, you know, The Sound of Music.” A blank stare.
I felt seriously old! The generation gap we used to bitch about? I’m now the cause!
Anyway, more on Vicky in the next posting... but like I said, my kind of human being. Vicky will do benefits for any cause, any theatre that has experienced funding cutbacks. God bless her. Oh – and my pastor and his wife LOVED the show! Go, Vicky, go!!