By Megan McIntyre

From Left: Miss BackStreet 2002 Amber Skyy, Ivana Cockatoo, 1st Runner Up Tammi Paxx, Owner Bruce Finnegan, Miss BackStreet 2003 Kandi Kane, Tamara Foxx, and Anita Mooray

She was in a panic. Purses were missing, dresses were falling off racks, and she couldn't find her other boob. Chaos reigned supreme. The boob was found laying where she had left it, on her dressing room table. "She" was actually a man in drag named James who was presently dressed in a black spandex bodysuit, an open white button down shirt and little else. "One thing you'll learn about drag queens honey," he said as he pushed the offending synthetic boob into his body suit, "It's not easy getting beautiful."

He had a point. I spent an entire day watching these men shave, shove, poke, prod, tweeze, paint, chisel, squeeze, stuff, and transform themselves into women for the second annual Miss BackStreet pageant in Plattsburgh, New York. James, whose performing name is Tammi Paxx, was just one of the four contestants located in the dressing room that day. All four were vying for a chance to take the crown from the current Miss BackStreet, Amber Skyy, also known as Michael Cameron.
"Mama!!!" shouts Tamara Foxx as she looks forlornly about the dressing room. In runs Amber, hauling ass around the corner at the cry. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asks coming over to Tamara. I watch the scene unfold as Tamara (who, when not in drag goes by Sean) complains about how much trouble she's having with her makeup. After Amber has placated her charge by offering to help, she turns to me.

"I guess I should have explained the concept of drag mothers earlier on," says Amber. "When a drag queen establishes herself in the community, like I have, she takes some girls, who are just starting out, under her wing you might say. Teach them the trade and such," she explains. "Lord girl you missed some hair," continues Amber, whipping out a razor and shaving Tamara's exposed chest. "We want you to be a woman," she says drolly, "not Grizzly Adams."
Watching Amber make Tamara up, I am strongly reminded of two hours earlier when I first walked into this tiny gay bar. Opening the door to the club, I was directed downstairs to the performance area. I opened the door to a room full of men in high heels, chugging Mountain Dew and chain-smoking. Amber (I learned very quickly that none of the men liked to be addressed by their real names and preferred to be addressed as women) wasted no time introducing me to everyone in the room, taking special pride in introducing two of her three "daughters," Tammi and Tamara.

I was left to take in my surroundings. The stage was draped with flowers, fuchsia and silver drapes, and white columns. A proud sign proclaimed MISS BACKSTREET 2003. Rainbow Christmas lights circled the wall above the stage, while purple tube lights outlined the edge of the stairs. Opposite the stage was a small wooden bar. Passing past the bar and around the corner, two doors showcase the bathrooms labeled Men and Woman. To the right of these doors is another door with a sign proclaiming AMBER SKYY with stars all around it. This is BackStreet's star's dressing room.
Back in the dressing room, some of the backup dancers and dressers have drifted in. Their raised voices draw me out of my silent reverie. The conversation, which up until this point has been hushed and awkward (I assume my presence and note taking was making the girls nervous) suddenly turns to favorite sexual positions. My ears perk up as the conversation gets heated. "I'm a bottom and there's no shame in baby's game" pipes up Tammi as the other girls laugh and agree. "Just call me bend over Betty!" shouts Tamara, vying for the attention of the group. I shake my tape recorder to make sure it's rolling.

Photo courtesy of BackStreet Nightclub

Amber Skyy and her backup dancers perform a dance montage to Madonna songs as her reign comes to an end.

Amber has retired to her dressing room to shave and Tammi and Tamara have their makeup completed. Suddenly, out comes the world's largest roll of duct tape. I can't contain my ignorance as Tamara starts ripping up plastic bags into strips. I ask what the duct tape is for. I can almost see the eye rolling. Tammi enlightens me. "It's to give her a waist. You're supposed to wrap saran wrap or an extra pair of panty hose underneath the duct tape." Tamara grins almost apologetically. "I didn't get a chance to buy any so I'm making due." Says Tammi, "Yeah I learned the hard way about the panty hose. I put it right on my skin the first time I did it. I still have the scars." She grimaces at the recollection. I watch, fascinated as Tamara pulls the duct tape tight around her torso, creating a waist. Her flabby stomach oozes over the edge of the duct tape unattractively. She looks at it with disdain. "I didn't eat lunch, but I'm still getting fat. And now I'm starving!" she whines.

The hours pass, inching closer to show time, as hours tend to do. The nervousness in the room is palpable. Amber comes flying into the room, surprising Tamara. "Duct tape me up sugar," she exclaims. Tamara duct tapes Amber around her extra pair of panty hose. Once she's done, Amber begins pulling up pair after pair of panty hose. I finally ask her how many pairs she has on. "Eight," she answers matter-of-factly as she pulls up the last pair. I can barely stand one pair, let alone eight. Tamara sighs, "It's hard to be a drag queen."

An hour and a half to show time and conversation has died down. Everyone is edgy and nervous. Amber is no longer allowed in the dressing room. "The owner says that because this is a competition I can't be in there past six o'clock. It might show favoritism," she later elaborates to me. A squeal erupts from the vicinity of Amber's dressing room. "Cocoa's here," says Tammi. Cocoa is Lady Cocoa Chanel, Amber's first daughter and a bit of a prodigy. A tall muscular black man, she breezes into the room with the air of a diva from days gone by. Behind her, Sha-Sha is carrying her bag, and a giant pair of gauzy blue, fur-lined pixie wings. A place is instantly cleared for her where Tamara had previously occupied. Cocoa is here tonight as a guest performer, to break up the monotony of the pageant and show the regulars at BackStreet a taste of something new. Cocoa hails from Central New York and her attitude is very different from the rest of the girls.

"Girl, I am so late!" she squeals. "I fell asleep on the bus and missed my stop! Now I got to get ready all quick. That reminds me of the time we were late to this one show. We thought it was at nine and they called us up and were like no girl it's at seven. Yeah, it was six o'clock. We got all dressed up so quick and piled in my car and your mama was wearing her crown and I was wearing my crown and we got PULLED OVER by the police!" she squeals out, all in one breath. Her audience is captivated. Tamara and Tammi want to know everything about their "sister's" days with their mama. They watch, enraptured as Cocoa hurriedly applies her makeup. Says Tamara breathlessly "You have to watch the older girls, you're always learning something new in this business."

The club had opened its doors and patrons are beginning to filter in. I sat down at the table that was reserved for me. And waited. And waited. The judges arrived. The MC arrived. The lights were dimmed. And then to shake things up there were 20 more minutes of waiting. Finally the MC took the stage. I did a double take. It looked like Bette Midler in a skin tight American flag glitter dress. She had a crown on top of her head the size of a hubcap. When it hit the lights, the right side of the audience went temporarily blind. Her name was Anita Mooray and she looked so good in drag I had to physically remind myself that it was a man under that incredible curly hairpiece.
Anita plays up the judges, who are directly in front of the stage at the judges' table. They include Kevin, the owner of popular gay club, Primetime, in Poughkeepsie, RJ, a female impersonator who is the promoter of the Mister and Miss Gay Empire New York pageants in Syracuse, and Bill, co-owner of the Miss Central New York pageant in Utica.

The contestants are introduced to the stage one by one. These are not the half dressed girls I saw backstage. These are pouting, flouncing, strutting women with attitude. Tammi is the most convincing woman. An acquaintance of mine did a double take and had to ask me if Tammi was a true female because she just could not tell. Tammi likes to show a lot of leg and each of her outfits showcased that. She is wearing a brown highlighted wig so natural it looks to be sprouting from her own head. Tamara is the least convincing of the four. Her face is just too masculine. Swaggering around in a blond curly wig that just doesn't look quite right, she is trying to hard to get the audience to adore her. And in walks Kandi. Looking like the kind of drag queen you see in the movies, it seems that the four plus hours she spent on her makeup paid off. She sports intricate foundation with massive amounts of contouring, deep red eye shadow and eyelashes so gunked up with mascara and false eyelash glue it looks difficult to keep them up. In other words, to these men she looks perfect.

The girls strut their stuff in original costumes which include a belly dancer, a Tropicana girl, a sexed up Lady Liberty, and a vampire mistress. They continue strutting in the evening wear competition. Kandi requires a prop boy to follow her around, holding the train of her red sparkle dress. But it is Tammi, who by now is definitely the crowd favorite, who draws gasps from the audience. She floats in wearing a black velvet dress that fits her like a glove. No unsightly bulges or bumps are visible beneath the dress. One giant thigh high slit runs up the course of her leg. Her breasts are too small for her large frame, but other than this one discrepancy, I cannot help but notice she embodies the essence of femininity at this point.

To break up the tedium of strutting from the contestants, Amber takes an opportunity to personalize with the guests and crack jokes. At first, they are quite humorous. "In case any of y'all are nervous about exits," she drawls "I'm gonna point them out to ya. We have three exits; over yonder, up above, and my favorite, out back!" The crowd guffaws. But as the night rolls on, the jokes become tired and worn.

The night begins to drag on. While the contestants are fun to watch, they could be more entertaining. The choreography for their talent sections seems choppy and jerky. As a treat to the audience, the parade of contestants and barrage of gay jokes from Amber are broken up by some true talent. Three performers, all from different clubs in central New York, perform in guest slots.
It is time for the question and answer segment of the contest. The questions are contrived and cliché. When Ivanna begins to answer her question (What is your best quality and why?) and audience member yells out "World peace!" This captures the mood of the cheesy question period to a T. After a few more questions (what female impersonator do you look up to and why?) and some sucking up ("Amber Skyy because she is my mama and she has taught me so much," gushes Tammi) it is finally time for the judges to make their decision.

While the judges converse, Cocoa, Anita, and Crystal all take the stage again. Crystal's slow number bombs, the crowd quickly loses interest and uses her soulful lip synching as an excuse to grab more alcohol. Anita's ballad is interesting but long and quickly becomes stale. And then there was Cocoa. Taking the stage in a tiny black top, leopard gloves, a leopard thong, lace up hooker boots, and a peasant feather headdress around her blonde wig she tears the stage up. How a woman in six inch stiletto heels can manage to run, jump, twist, grind and shake across a stage at such an intense pace I will never know. It was unbelievable. And Sha-Sha could take lessons in ass shaking from her sister. Cocoa was writhing around on stage, on the judges table, on an audience member's lap. She had an ass that just wouldn't quit. The audience was on its feet as she breathed theatrically at the end of her number.

When the crowd was reseated (and by this point thoroughly drunk and sexed up) Amber took the stage for her farewell. "I'm all about getting the community involved with other communities" she sobbed out as her voice quavered, "I just hope my successor can do the same. She took the envelope from Anita. "The first runner up is Miss Tammi Paxx!" The crowd went wild and Tammi seemed pleased with herself. "And the winner is…" Amber paused theatrically, "KANDI KAIN!" Kandi looked smug as she accepted the huge bouquet of flowers and giant tiara. It was no surprise to the crowd that she won, but Tammi was clearly the crowd favorite.

The crowd drunkenly files upstairs where the "Guess how much lube is in the tube game" is taking place. I watch the sliding makeup and frizzy wigs and think about these men in sparkles and feathers. Most dress up to escape, to pretend, to entertain. They are fascinated by the illusion they can create, like a child with a prism, making a rainbow that can be seen but not touched. These images that they make, full of color and sound and sparkles, are nothing more than illusions. When the night is over and the sparkles are gone, what's left is the mild-mannered store clerk, making himself invisible in the world around him. Accepting the free condoms from the man at the bar, I finish my drink and head out into the night.

Who do you think should have won? Email us with your vote!