Cher in the video for “Walking in Memphis”
We’d come to London from York, with its one gay bar that felt like stepping into a time machine back to those days when gay pubs reeked of self-loathing and disappointment, and a dyke would be questioned for wearing a dress.
In the 90s I’d lived in London and worked at G.A.Y when it was still at the Astoria. During my time there I saw it move from the tiny L.A.2 to Astoria-proper upstairs. Imagine my surprise when I found that the Astoria is now a hole in the ground, obliterated for the Crossrail train network. Now a small bar-club in Soho, G.A.Y is as much a part of gaytown as the shops selling leather harnesses.
I’d once been the lez dancing at mega-gay-club Heaven, ignoring the glares from the queens who guarded their space. I’d boogied at indie gayspot Popstarz where I’d met a gorgeous dancing queen who was dancing to “Dancing Queen”. I picked him up for a starring role in one of my student films because he looked like he loved life and was the right kind of androgynous for the role. You know: not a boy looking a bit like a girl but both boy and girl and neither all at once. I’d talked him into it whilst supping a pint at the Admiral Duncan in Soho, his favourite spot. I left London after the nail bomb went off in the Duncan. Someone I worked with and adored had been in the blast. He survived but was never the same again. And neither was London.
Cher Day consisted of Cher art by Kev Clarke, Cher crafting, a Cher quiz, Cher clips, videos and films, and Chereoke
After more than a decade away I returned to the capital with my lady love, Becky, who’d been in York for 10 years. We were gagging for some queer stuff. There are many meanings of “queer” and we were looking for something specific. For us it’s the inclusivity of multiple sexualities and genders, an acknowledgement and celebration of difference. It’s also about shaking things up, queering the norm and the norms. Vital to our brand of queer is fun, fun and fun with extra scoops of hyper-camp.
Ensconced in the Big Smoke, it wasn’t long before we found what we were looking for. Like most points of queer-origin, it materialised in the shape of Cher.
I love Cher and that love grows harder and stronger with every Tweet and new wig. When Becky told me “we’re going to a Cher Day”, I knew London wasn’t going to let us down.
Cher Day (which should be celebrated annually by everyone fabulous) was the delicious brainchild of interactive culture events duo Amy Grimehouse. Cher Day consisted of Cher art by Kev Clarke, Cher crafting, a Cher quiz, Cher clips, videos and films, and Chereoke.
Choosing one of Kev’s paintings to buy, we paused to watch Cher donning her Elvis drag, telling us all about feeling the way she feels. Surrounded by Kev’s art with the soundtrack of Cher’s “Walking in Memphis”, we knew we were home. In Kev (with whom we would form The Ethel Mermaids, shortly after), Amy Grimehouse, and various like-minded associates we have met along the way, we had found our queer family. Via Cher, we spotted something good and quickly joined ranks, conspiring to bring bad art regularly into the Grimehouse mix, drink lots of prosecco and share our mutual love of trash, schlock and camp.
Chercaso by Kev Clarke
Shortly afterwards we found ourselves in one of our favourite Soho haunts: The Friendly Society. A tiny club with free entry, you are introduced to this danceteria by those already in the know, or perhaps stumble upon it if you’re curious about the doorway in the alleyway next to Ann Summers emitting classic soul-disco-electronica. With its super-kitsch Barbie and Ken ceiling, poodle lamps, goldfish and delightfully happy vibe, you can dance deliciously freely. This particular night I witnessed Becky having a Cher-off with a barman as “Walking in Memphis” came on over the urinal-shaped speakers.
One night we fancied doing some karaoke. We were in Soho with our sister Rachel and knew a booth would be pricey and possibly soulless. At a loss for what to do, Becky – by huge coincidence – received an email from The Star of Bethnal Green informing her that she’d been selected to win a free hour in their karaoke room if we got our sweet asses down there pronto. You’ve never seen three chicks move so fast across the capital. Awarded our hour (and a couple extra because no one else had booked it), we sang until horse and rosy-cheeked from rosé wine. Amongst the epic tunes we selected, we could not resist doing our very best (bad) Cher impressions to “Walking in Memphis”. And as we squealed with added bass-vibrato, I realised that this song had followed us through some delightfully wonderful and fortuitous times around the capital. Cementing our home (and my homecoming), Cher will be forever in our hearts as our tour guide and soundtrack to sweet, queer London. C
Read more at Corinna, Becky and Kev’s Mermania blog, at The Ethel Mermaids Facebook page and on Twitter @ethelsmermaids. See more of Kev Clarke’s work at kevclarke.com