“It was quite fun, right ? Do you still regret coming with me ?”

  A man was sitting at a table, eating his steak with a big smile. His friend next to him had a frown on his face.

  “I don’t know, it was really amateurish. Am I really supposed to find a hidden gem here ?”

  His name was Augustin, an event pnner for a pce not that far from here, a big boat that was forever attached to the shore. It was a huge part of Bordeaux’s nightlife, a restaurant on the first floor and a club on the second. Most days had live events - concerts, DJ sets or full shows. Most of the people who went there were well-off students or people wanting to be fashionable, and on good nights The Boat saw several hundred of them.

  Now Augustin had a big task dumped on him by his boss : Finding something new and exciting for 2022. That was the reason he accepted, when his friend asked him to go together to this show. But no matter how Augustin looked at it, those performers were not polished enough to be part of the agenda. He didn’t even know if the public of the boat would like drag.

  “Oh, come on ! It was entertaining. And it was just the open stage anyway, the real show will start soon.”

  Augustin used his straw to stir his cocktail with an empty look.

  “Is ‘Madame Fabergé’ really that good ?”

  “Trust me, you won’t be able to take your eyes off her !”

  Augustin didn’t really trust his friend’s tastes, but he remained seated.

  ‘Just until I finish my dessert. After that, I’ll leave.’

  A few minutes ter, the lights dimmed once more and a strong beat started shaking the walls. The spotlights moved in the room and finally settled on a slim silhouette in a dazzling leotard.

  ‘Wow, if I didn’t know it beforehand, I would have never guessed it was a man.’

  Augustin was mesmerized by the drag queen. He observed her lipsyncing, dancing, voguing, doing splits, cartwheels, and acrobatics in her giant ptform high heels shoes. Number after number, the energy never went down, and even when she performed a slower song, her vivid facial expressions never allowed the show to get dull or boring.

  ‘Yes, if it’s at that level… I’m still worried about the ‘drag’ part, though…’

  After half an hour of non-stop excitement, Madame Fabergé exited the stage. Augustin thought it was over, but then suddenly music resounded again in the restaurant.

  “Is there something else ?”

  Just when he was wondering, a person walked on stage. Immediately, the energy of the entire room shifted. It wasn’t excitement, it was curiosity and awe. An elegant woman, who seemed to have come out of a 1880 fashion drawing doused in glitter, came to the center of the stage, mic in hand.

  ‘It’s not a drag queen ?’

  She was unmistakably different. Her makeup too. There weren’t any exaggerated features or hard contouring, just the assured brush strokes of a painter bringing out the natural freckles and the moles. Her eyelids, though covered in glitter, represented a sunset on the right and a night sky on the left, and her lips seemed to be made of gold. She was breathtaking. And when she opened her mouth, Augustin’s sanity just left.

  Her first number was a soft pop song. She didn’t move much, but everytime she did the light danced on her outfit, reflecting on the small rhinestones and golden threads to dazzle the public. Her image evoked a woman lost in time, never knowing if she was in the past or the present, integrating both elements in her outfit and her voice. She was mixing different singing techniques, to the point where one could wonder if it was a drag performance or a concert. It was both, bringing the two domains together as easily as she breathed.

  When the song ended, no sounds were heard. The audience was too astonished to even remember to appud. But it didn’t stop here. The woman elegantly raised her hands, taking out her suit vest and pulling on a string at her waist, discarding her hat. In a flutter of fabric, the clothes untied and a second outfit was revealed, as marvelous as the first. It was a long sleeve shirt in a dark red tone with a crimson ce colr tucked under high waisted orange poofy shorts revealing her long legs. Embroidered yellow stockings completed the look, disappearing under leather ankle boots. It was also very vintage, but in a brighter way. And the woman's makeup immediately made sense, a night sky outfit revealing into a sunset one.

  The second song was more upbeat. She still didn’t move much, but the voice seemed to dance on the notes, evoking a bubbly child running around. The performance was so vivid that the audience felt like they were watching a movie, imagining the scenes in front of their eyes.

  Even after the woman left the stage and Madame Fabergé came back, people were still staring in the direction she had disappeared to, unable to focus on the dazzling drag queen. Augustin was no exception. When he came back to his senses, he grabbed his friend’s arm in a hurry.

  “Who was that ?”

  “I don’t know, I’m searching right now !”

  He was on his phone, looking at the restaurant’s Instantgram page.

  “I found it ! Today’s guest is ‘Madame Cyrielle’. Never heard of the name, but she is too good to be an amateur !”

  Upon hearing his response, Augustin began frantically tapping on his phone. He found her MyTube channel easily and gasped in surprise.

  “Only 10,000 subscribers ? How is this possible ?!”

  He looked at the videos but except for a few metal concerts in bars, there were no performances of Mademoiselle Cyrielle alone on stage.

  ‘It was her first solo stage ? No, I can’t believe it ! I must get her for the boat !’

  But then he realized something.

  ‘I was too dazed to film and there are no videos of a solo stage. How will I convince my boss ?’

  Augustin screamed internally. It was both the best and the worst day of his life.

  ***

  After the show the artists could go into the restaurant, talk to the audience, and make use of their social skills to gain opportunities and secure gigs. But Cyrielle didn’t join them, following Julie’s advice.

  ‘Being elegant and nice, but mysterious and covered in a veil. It’s a good concept for a high society woman, right ?’

  She went out of the bus after changing back into her everyday outfit, but was stopped by the owner of the restaurant.

  “Mademoiselle Cyrielle ! Do you pn on doing more drag shows ? I was thinking I could book you on some of the dates we put aside for drag entertainers. I could even pay you more ! You are just too good to be put aside as a one-time guest.”

  Cyrielle looked at him with cold eyes. The owner’s hair stood up as if a freezing wind was blowing his way. Cyrielle’s gaze put so much pressure on him that he felt his knees shake.

  “I’m not a drag queen. Do you pn on stealing the few opportunities that those artists have by repcing them with me ? Say something that makes sense.”

  And she went away, leaving behind the man who had turned pale.

  ‘I can’t believe he said that, it was so rude to the other people who went on stage today ! He doesn’t even know how hard drag is. I only put an outfit and makeup on, and I feel like dying already ! I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have a wig and high heels on top of that… They all performed with such a high level of energy, I wonder if they are truly human.’

  She had spent quite a lot of time ‘studying’ drag, and after knowing the legacy of the community she couldn’t possibly take it lightly. She had a profound respect for those who fought for their rights, while she herself was only trying to make a living.

  ‘I need money, but not to the point of dismissing people.’

  As she was thinking that, blue characters were floating in the air. But they disappeared so quickly that Cyrielle didn’t notice.

  [Accumuting positive karma.]

  Behind the bus, Léna was smoking with some other artists of the open scene. They were all looking at Cyrielle with eyes so wide they could pop out of their skulls. They had heard everything.

  “I thought she was going to accept…”

  “Yeah, it’s such a good opportunity to have your own show !”

  “Does she respect drag that much ? Is that why she accepted to be a guest, because she likes what we do ?”

  “Honestly, what other reason could there be ? She didn’t go to talk with the audience so she isn’t after fame, and looking at her appearance she definitely doesn’t need money.”

  “She is cool and elegant, but also so nice and sweet ! Do you think she has an Instantgram account for her outfits and makeup ? I really want to have a look, I could learn a lot !”

  The misunderstandings again spread like wildfire, this time setting Bordeaux's drag community afme. Completely unaware, Cyrielle was talking with Julie and Madame Fabergé. The drag queen, still in her stage outfit, was making sure the pay was settled.

  “We collected all the tips and already shared it with everyone. I told the owner to give you a part of my booking fee too, did you receive it ?”

  Julie answered with a satisfied smile.

  “Yes she did, thanks for asking. By the way, I created an Instantgram account. There isn’t anything on it for now, but I would be gd if you could follow Mademoiselle Cyrielle.”

  “Of course I will ! Give me the handle…”

  While the two were talking, Cyrielle was spacing out.

  ‘Ah, I’m so tired… I want to go home and sleep for three days straight. The couch won’t be comfortable but who cares. Oh, a bed… How much time has it been since I slept on a bed ? What does a mattress feel like ?’

  She noticed a group of people walking towards her. They were the artists who performed in the first part. Some still were in drag, others in everyday clothes, and the rest had half erased makeup, giving them an unsettling look.

  “We just overheard you talking, do you have an Instantgram account ?”

  “If you don’t have any pictures, you can come to our photoshoot.”

  “Will you post your outfits ?”

  “I would love to see different types of makeup !”

  They were swarming Cyrielle like a pack of puppies.

  ‘I don’t know, just let me go home !’