Monday, October 7, 2013

Eureka: Drag! In my late teens and early twenties, I would occasionally take the train into Manhattan and explore The City. During one of my explorations, I was taking in the huge display of magazines and newspapers on sale at the newsstand in Grand Central Terminal, when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a magazine titled Drag.

Now, this was not the typical drag magazine I was used to seeing back home --- magazines that featured hemis, gassers, headers, blowers, mag wheels, Garlits, funny cars, etc. No, this drag magazine featured guys in gowns, boys in bras, men in minis, fellows in fishnets, males in marabou, etc.

Wow! I had found a magazine just for me!

I looked around me to see if anyone was looking at me looking at the magazine sitting on the rack. The coast was clear, so I reached for the magazine and flipped through it quickly to make sure it really was a magazine about trannies and not trannies. Satisfied, I handed it to the newsdealer and paid the exorbitant (for circa 1970) cover price of $3.

As the newsdealer put the magazine in a brown paper bag and handed it to me, he gave me a dirty look. No fan of trannies was he, but I did not care because I had in my hands something I hoped would expand my knowledge of the world that I seemed to be part of.




Professional femulator Laverne Cummings, circa 1960.



Source: Pinterest

A queen of the world.


  1. Stana,
    You are correct on several points.
    First, $3 was a fortune back in that era.
    Second, If the guy selling the magazine did not know about us back then scorn was what we would have anticipated if someone know of or even sensed our interest in 'Drag'
    Third, It was a rafe find indeed for you to locate that magazine.
    Fourth, and most importantly, it was significant for us to find any type of material or information to let us know that we were not alone in our interests. Back then getting any type of affirmation was difficult so whatever ou got was important.

  2. One of my earliest understanding of our community came to me via these kinds of mags. But my kick off was through the LA free press I picked up a copy in 1973 when we were on holiday in CA. Once the ball started rolling, I found The Boston Phoenix, which lead me to Marisa Sherill Lynn and the Tiffany club, then in Weston and run completely by Marissa. Through the beginning part of my journey, every "drag" magazine (not the ones with trannies or hemi's, LOL) was something I had to get my hands on. Rumor had it, "from my mom" that my dad was a big "panties guy" her words, and loved the feeling, (what guy doesn't, if they are honest). Any way, I was flipping through One of them that was featuring drag extravaganzas that were held in private and at clubs in big cities. Well wouldn't you know it, I saw a photo of a person that looked exactly like my dad. Unfortunately he had pasted of leukemia, several years previous to me even being close to knowing what I was, so I was never able to confirm this, I did ask mom and she didn't know what he was up to, as they had divorced years and years ago and the only contact she had with him, was to complain that he wasn't paying her enough child support. I'm going to say with some confidence that apples don't fall far from their trees. I'll never really know, but I can imagine, and wish here were more then the conversation I have in my prayers each day.

  3. I never encountered Drag, but I had similar experiences in my teenage years. I used to head up to Toronto once or twice every summer with friends to see a ball game. Invariably, everyone else would wander off after the game to meet somewhere later, so between bookstores I would hit the magazine stores (and, later, adult stores) to spend way too much money on transgender magazines. Most of them were glossy and pornographic, costing me $10 to $15 each, but to me they were gold.

    Today, I regularly visit the magazine store around the corner from the office to get the latest issue of Transformation, and I always politely decline when they try to slip it into a brown paper bag for me.