Makeup, heels and dim light; A night in the life of a drag queen

By Johanna Uchtmann Dec 22, 2011, 3:06 GMT

Berlin - The he-to-she transformation of Basti to Babsi takes rouge, a wig, two large wads of cotton and nearly three hours. The change results in the diva Barbara Vogue - Babsi for short.

Recently, as Basti prepared for a Lady Gaga contest at a Berlin gay bar called SchwuZ, he allowed reporters a glimpse into his lifestyle.

The transformation starts with his face. Patting powder on his forehead and turning his head right, then left, he holds his eyes fixed on the image of his face in the mirror.

'Quite mask-like. That's nice,' he said. His red dress is short, he admits, but that's OK because he has nice legs.

When a friend teases him about it, he turns away, pulls his face to show his dimples without really smiling and rolls his eyes, which is his way of responding when people don't understand him. 'I don't know,' he says. 'I do it for fun.'

Two years ago Basti and a friend decided to throw a Hollywood-themed party and they needed the appropriate guests, including transvestites. Initially, Basti took the name Coco Couture. She eventually became Babsi and the party became a fixture in Berlin's gay social calendar.

Basti talks about it casually, rolling his eyes, flexing his wrists and showing his dimples - without smiling.

He's wearing blood-red lipstick and nail polish, eye-liner and light eye-shadow to make his eyes look wider - too much rather than not enough. 'It's OK to look a little cheap,' he said, transvestite lore that he loves to cite.

He struggles to get his makeup just the way he wants it. Using a piece of paper, he draws a sharp-edged line in pink under his cheekbone to create a contour, but he wrinkles his forehead in disappointment and sighs.

'Ah, I think I'll just leave it the way it is. It won't matter inside the dark club,' he said. 'Transvestitism functions best in the dark. Darkness is my friend.'

Basti, 23, studies fashion design, which comes in handy when he's choosing clothing for Barbara Vogue.

His Gaga imitation is a patchwork of garments, some he designed himself, but usually he buys Babsi's clothes.

Her wardrobe is full of colourful frocks trimmed in feathers, tassels, lace and even aluminium foil. He is small around the middle and thus can wear a medium women's size. Though his foot is the largest standard women's size, he can still find high heels.

When it's time to get dressed, he lets his pajama bottoms slide to the floor and pulls the red dress over his head, slipping it on with a wiggle of his hips.

The dress is backless and tight-fitting except at the bosom. To create feminine curves there, Basti uses wads of cotton stuffed into pieces of nylon stockings and pins them in place.

'At least I have a pretty decollete at the back,' he said, looking at his just-formed breasts.

'Too high?' The left one, yes. A little tug and a twist and it's in place. But a glance in the mirror reveals another problem: He needs a shave. Careful not to disturb the makeup on his chin, Basti gets it done quickly and then it's time for him to put on his heels and call a cab.

He sits in the taxi as elegantly as a queen. Babsi avoids the underground. She occasionally has been accosted, but at more than 2 metres tall, Basti is an imposing figure. The real enemy in the underground is the light.

Basti is not sure how to define himself; drag queen is not a term he can relate to. It sounds too much like 'an old, ill-tempered transvestite.'

Near the SchwuZ, one of the oldest and most popular gay bars in Berlin, is Drama, another bar that Babsi likes. On this night the red lights have a fatal effect on her outfit, making her red dress look grey. Barbara Vogue orders vodka and cranberry and takes a seat at a table while other transvestites course through the club.

They greet her with kisses on each cheek, careful not to smudge each other's makeup. She contorts her face to show her dimples - without smiling - even more frequently now. Though all the contestants have been called over to SchwuZ for a group photo, Babsi remains seated in her corner, sipping her drink.

But eventually, she looks at the floor, then over at the bar. Surely, anyone getting a glimpse of her face would think - as he did earlier in the evening - 'Quite mask-like. That's good.'