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#75 Pale Blue Door

December 8, 2011

Embarrassing the hipsters in the middle of an emotional ode to gin. Mickey Mouse hands model's own.

Pale Blue what? Here’s the deal: you pay a man called Tony Hornecker some money, and he tells you his east London address. You go there, and find his terraced house down a dark and anonymous alley.

You sort of wonder what you’ve let yourself in for, at this point.

You step inside, to find the narrow interior has been hollowed out, with the top level removed and reduced to a precarious-looking balcony, leaving the ground floor two (small) storeys high. Every surface is covered in kitsch memorabilia – carnival masks, umbrellas, old model ships, dolls, pantomime costumes and costume jewellery. It’s like being inside an inverted a Katamari ball that just ran over Ellen Terry’s house.

You are sat at one of the tiny tables that cover every inch of the floor space – except for four feet in the middle – and given wine.

A drag queen appears and introduces herself. She’s the entertainment. Depending on what night you go, it might be the famous Jonny Woo. Or it might not. While you munch on a three-course meal and contemplate whether you need more wine, you get a sort of minified, full-on floorshow between courses, with all the emoting, lipsynching and full-on drama you’d expect from London’s finest drag artists. “This is a completely original composition,” proclaimed our entertainment proudly, before launching into Single Ladies by Beyonce.

Many of those we talked to had been before and had come back in greater numbers – it’s an absurd, delightful, camp and thoroughly enjoyable night out in someone’s mad house. And to prove it – if you go to the loo, the house owner’s toothpaste is still in the bathroom. Awesome.

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