One of the last things you ever think you're going to do with your dad is attend a drag show. I mean, this is 2015 it's true, but unless you are Chandler Bing it's not an every day occurrence. My dad is certainly typical when it comes to dads in many ways. He had a regular job, knows every bit of history ever, had practical information on all manner of topic, likes sports and the news, tells bad jokes, and all the rest. But he also supported three children who all wanted to be theatre majors, went to their concerts and shows and gracefully handled their crazy life whims like running theatre companies in New York or moving to foreign countries. He opened my mind to the idea of travel, seeing the world, and experiencing other cultures. Whether he knew it or not, he participated actively in me having an open mind and an open spirit.
That being said, it wasn't as a much of a surprise as you might think when my dad said that one of the top things he would like to do this time in Paris was to go to a famous old drag club. Well then, ok dad! In his head, it is one of the things you do as a tourist and a traveler. You see the local sights and engage in the cultural experiences, good or bad. So, off to Cabaret Michou we went! Coincidentally, it happens to be located in Montmarte, the neighborhood my dad and stepmom were staying in. We grabbed a quick dinner and went to the club, having read that we could get cheaper seats at the bar the night of. This was apparently true, but because we weren't partaking in the dinner, we couldn't enter until 10pm. Off we went back to their apartment for some pre-show drinks before heading back again at the appropriate time.
Unfortunately, while there were indeed bar seats, the bar itself was about three seats in total, so we were quite crammed in the corner, desperately trying not to trip anyone as they passed by. The bartender was a portly chap, decked out in traditional French barwear, but with the added touch of severe black eyeliner circling his voir visage. The entire staff seemed appropriately flamboyant but only in the way an old school French garçon could be. Right before the show began, they actually informed us there were two vacant seats in the audience, so my stepmother and I were transplanted from the bar to the ground floor. In hindsight, we sort of thought the bar seats may have made for a better view, but it was still an entertaining sight.
All in French, sans a few American pop songs ranging from Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" to Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", the crowd really loved the show. Some of the men were young, muscle-bound masterpieces while others were older vintage starlits, wearing the mantle of such renowned European performers as Edith Piaf or Dalida. I truly felt the glitter touch when the curtain finally went down a mural of beautifully dressed men were taking their curtain call. Aside from being rather exhausted by the show's end, I am definitely glad I experienced such a spectacle... especially with my dearest daddy.
Happy Father's Day!!!