A Glamorous Night

I spent an hour figuring out what I should wear the The Glam Awards.

Obviously, the theme seemed to be “Glam,” so I wanted to look Glamorous. (Capital “G.”) I didn’t have the money for anything new, not after splurging on a matching set of off-white leather pants and jacket. I actually tried that on first, but I looked more “granola Kill Bill” than glamorous nightlife queen.

I ended up with all of the classic Ian-Michael pieces that make me me: a pair of short black leather shorts; knee-high socks; a blazer with gold bug pins on the lapel; and, naturally, a sequined top.

Yes, I was freezing – it was the first snow of the season. Getting hypothermia, one lewk at a time.

I arrived and Cherry Jubilee spied me, checking me off her VIP list. Before I could thank her for sneaking me in, she was gone, running the event like the boss that she is – and all in a floor-length gown. Respect.

I entered Stage 48 into a sea of sequins. Sequined gowns; sequined shorts; sequined jockstraps. I fit right in.

I found my boyfriend, and we got a table right next to the stage, sitting next to the stunning Cherry Lemonade and across from the iconic Sherry Vine. (The tables were pre-littered with copies of this week’s Get Out! Magazine: I’m not ashamed that I opened several of them to my weekly column and kept them out on display.)

Our hosts took the stage: Bob the Drag Queen and Bianca Del Rio glided out in nearly matching black and grey ensembles, looking just as glamorous as you’d expect them to. They introduced the show and gave a nod to Sherry Vine, which essentially just became a Sherry Vine roast that continued throughout the show. I ate it up. Vicky Boofant performed a lip sync to “Hello Dolly” complete with backup twink dancers. It was incredible. I screamed “Yas” until my voice ran horse, and then I realized I hated myself for screaming “Yas” so much.

Bob the Drag Queen enlightened us to the difference between straight events and gay events: “At gay events, you see a lot of buttholes, don’t you? I’ve seen three buttholes tonight already.” I heard someone at the table behind me stand up and clap uproariously; when I turned around, I found a sequined, jockstrapped dick right in my face. (I wrote down the brand across his waistband, purely for research purposes.)

A plethora of awards were given out. The ever-stunning Markus Kelle awarded Bob the Drag Queen with Best Comedy Performer, but Bob called Miz Cracker to the stage and gave it to her. Brita Filter and Terra Hyman deservedly took home Best Duo/Group. Bob the Drag Queen won Best Video for “Purse First”- she kept that award. The first drag queen I ever saw (back in 2004), Lady Bunny, won Best Cabaret for her show Lady Bunny Transjester. Entertainer of the Year was snagged by, you guessed it, Bob the Drag Queen.

She wasn’t the only one to snag multiple awards – the gorgeous Aquaria, dressed in the most fabulous tinsel dress I’ve ever seen, won Best Dressed, Scene Queen and Breakthrough Artist.
Stonewall won Best Bar, Monster won Best Club and Glow at G-Lounge won Best Bar Party. The audience erupted into applause when Amanda Lepore surprised everyone, taking the stage to present Best Club Party to Manster at Monster.

The performances between presenting the awards blew me away. I saw Ritzy Bitz flip across the entire length of the stage, ending in a death drop for the gods. Holly Box Springs had me on the floor with a lip sync of Kathy Griffin talking about Celine Dion. The stand out performance was a Christmas number choreographed by Vincent Cooper, its stand-out performers Brita Filter and Terra Hyman. (I told you they deserved that award for Best Duo/Group!)

The biggest award, The Lifetime Achievement Award, went to Sherry Vine. As Bob so eloquently stated, “The oldest drag queen in the city, and the oldest drag queen in the world. Sissy that walker!”

Our hosts said goodnight, the tables and chairs went away and everyone grabbed a taxi down to Monster Bar for the after-party.

As for my boyfriend and me: I told my taxi driver to go uptown and bring our tired asses home. I barely untied my shoes before falling into bed, slipping into a dream of sequins, jockstraps and the idea that maybe next year I’ll be nominated for a Glam Award myself.

PHOTOS BY Gustavo MONROY