A New Wave of Queer Cabaret Emerges in Paris

InIn a 13th-century structure on the Left Bank, in a cellar adorned with stone walls and arching ceilings, hostess Ruby on the Nail reclines like Manet’s Olympia on the intimate stage of Le Cavern, savoring her signature cocktail—a blend of honey, lime, and Sailor Jerry spiced rum. The spotlight accentuates her sculpted features and sleek lob wig, evoking the image of Barbra Streisand, whose likeness illuminates the backdrop. The audience erupts in cheers, applauding Ruby with enthusiastic snaps.

Over in Saint-Ouen-sur-Seine, a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood just north of the Paris Périph, where modern high-rises bloom like spring flowers, a vast food court and community hub named Communale buzzes with bourgeois-bohemian patrons in their 30s and 40s. Gathered around rustic pine tables, many accompanied by young children, they indulge in Meteor draft beers, artisanal pizzas topped with creamy burrata, and juicy smash burgers on shiny buns. Strutting on towering platforms, drag artists Lula Strega and HitsuBlu take turns spinning a metal bingo cage and calling out numbers, eliciting cheers and groans from the crowd.

Inside Madame Arthur, one of the oldest cabarets nestled in the neon-lit hills of Pigalle, PowerBeauTom dons boxing shorts and a heavy chain, belting out a French version of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” as pianist La Mulette pounds the keys. They captivate the audience, who sing along passionately. In the hallway between performances, a cheerful vendor prepares hot crepes for the patrons, a mix of tipsy revelers and straight guests.

These scenes, which unfold on any given night in Paris, capture not just an evening with some of the city's most skilled performers. They map the growing drag scene, which has spread throughout the spiral of arrondissements. They also highlight how queens like Ruby, Strega, and HitsuBlu, along with drag kings like PowerBeauTom, build on decades of cabaret history, discovering new avenues for self-expression that range from playful to deeply political. The result is a more mainstream art form that celebrates Paris’s remarkable LGBTQ artists.

The legacy of drag cabaret in Paris stretches back at least to the 1940s, when the city’s pioneering trans stars like Zambella, Bambi, and Coccinelle graced the stages of Madame Arthur and Carrousel, an opulent cabaret in the 8th arrondissement near the Champs-Élysées. Back then, the aesthetics were distinctly feminine: think a dazzling burlesque bikini with feathered headdresses or a sleek Marilyn Monroe hairstyle paired with chandelier earrings and a form-fitting, glittery mermaid gown. Makeup was always appropriate for a bridal party, and performances were flirtatious.

While they headlined at popular venues, these artists were also subversive. Post-war Paris was a time of celebration—people were eager for fun—but it was far from welcoming to trans women. Law enforcement could arrest those assigned male at birth for wearing women’s clothing in public. Bambi recalls protests against the so-called immoral performances at Carrousel. These early cabarets served as safe havens.

Despite a global surge in drag's popularity in the ’90s, spurred by films like The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Paris Is Burning, gender sociologist Arnaud Alessandrin from the University of Bordeaux explained to French daily 20 Minutes that the scene faded from the limelight until about ten years ago. The resurgence began with RuPaul’s Drag Race, reigniting interest in drag performances across France, leading to the emergence of Drag Race France, now in its third season featuring talents like Ruby and Lula Strega.

“Drag Race France has completely transformed the drag landscape,” remarks Leo Tremaine, a Parisian producer and host of the Oh Wow!! podcast, where he interviews local queer and drag artists. Tremaine notes that while the show elevated queens to larger stages (like the Cannes Film Festival), it also narrowed opportunities primarily for the “Drag Race girls.” He aptly states, “Magic always takes when it gives.”

Nonetheless, the show revitalized the contemporary drag scene in Paris, inspiring third-wave artists to experiment with performances that would not typically be found in traditional cabarets.

“We’re more attuned to a fresh wave of queer expression rather than the traditional French styles, like female illusion or impersonation,” shares drag artist Oona, who started her performances in Paris in 2020.

Oona frequently hosts the weekly drag shows at Sister Midnight, a craft cocktail bar and hub of new drag culture, hidden on a side street that slopes down from the heart of Pigalle. There, close to midnight on a recent Saturday, Kahlos Éphémère, with cerulean-shadowed eyes and a Mia Wallace wig, gave the audience chills as they recited an opening poem-prayer inspired by Mark Aguhar’s “Litanies to My Heavenly Brown Body,” before flawlessly lip-syncing Douglas Hodge’s version of “I Am What I Am.” On a different night, Éphémère used a staple gun to attach paper drops of blood to their body, symbolizing the often painful isolation experienced by queer individuals.

In another recent act, Oona simply laughed—hysterically and maniacally—for a full seven minutes.

“She received a standing ovation,” Tremaine remarks. “The audience was absolutely blown away.”

Venues like Sister Midnight create a unique bond between performers and their audiences. The intimate bar lacks a stage, and co-owner Joseph Boley uses two slender flashlights to illuminate the artists, allowing patrons to be close enough to catch the scent of sweat and perfume. When burlesque performer Vesper Quinn (also known as drag king Thomas Occhio) stripped down to a thong and tassels, reclined on the bar, and drenched themselves in ice water, the audience felt the splash. Many nights, the line separating artist and audience blurs.

Meanwhile, drag kings are rising in visibility. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, there were very few in Paris, and everyone was familiar with one another, notes PowerBeauTom, featured in the French documentary Devenir Roi (Becoming King) and performing in Paris since 2022. As the pandemic waned, interest in drag kings began to grow, leading performers to create their own scenes and workshops around the city.

This burgeoning interest is starting to translate into tangible opportunities. In May, the Sorbonne hosted a drag king workshop and show in partnership with Kings Factory Paris. PowerBeauTom became the first drag king to join the lineup at Madame Arthur (a coveted position due to its exposure and pay), where they now regularly perform with an acoustic guitar.

“The drag king scene is still quite underground,” they remark. However, alongside other artists, they are redefining cabaret. “It’s a broader expression of queerness—beyond just drag queens and kings.”

“Pigalle boasts a rich legacy of drag and transgender cabaret performers, from Le Chat Noir to La Nouvelle Eve, Chez Michou, Madame Arthur, and beyond,” states Jen Riley, co-owner of Sister Midnight. Yet, apart from major venues, most queer bars in the 2000s and 2010s offered bottom-shelf liquor and inexpensive beers; the focus was more on providing a safe space than on the drinks themselves.

As gentrification took hold in the early 2000s, Riley notes that the neighborhood was losing its unique blend of grit and glamour, transforming into a “mini north Marais,” even while becoming a center for craft cocktails. When Sister Midnight opened in 2019, it seized this trend by offering high-quality drinks while paying homage to the area's past with a spirit reminiscent of the “’70s Bowie Berlin years.”

“We felt it was crucial to revitalize Pigalle’s history, creating a stage for queer performers while also ensuring quality,” Riley explains.

Currently, Sister Midnight, as the regulars affectionately call it, serves a dirty vodka martini that rivals the best in Paris—perfectly chilled, with a shot of brine and a meaty Bella di Cerignola olive. This is just one example of how dedicated food and beverage programs throughout the city are fueling the momentum for drag performances.

Cuisine takes center stage at Le Cancan as well. Opened in August 2020 in a former “hostess bar” in Pigalle, this cozy restaurant features reclaimed ’70s neon lights and paintings reminiscent of Georges Seurat, which owner Arthur Rech discovered beneath four layers of wall (if only they could share their stories). The kitchen serves up elevated comfort food like pulled beef, slow-cooked for 12 hours, served atop a bed of hazelnut-infused mashed potatoes. From a stage the size of a queen mattress, Marie Jo Dassin hosts a weekly variety show. A recent Wednesday showcased a blend of trivia, comedy sketches, and lively French renditions of American hits like Rihanna’s “Umbrella”—para-para-pluie-pluie-pluie.

Even the laid-back Le Cavern features platters of charcuterie and cheese, along with playful house cocktails, transforming a touristy stretch of the 6th arrondissement into a drag hotspot. There, Ruby helped launch the biweekly La Boîte à Bijoux (jewelry box) show in September 2020, which gained enough popularity to endure through the national pandemic lockdown and strict citywide curfew.

A focus on cuisine has also enabled drag performers to draw in establishments that typically cater to straight cis audiences who may have never experienced a drag show before.

At Yaya Secretán, a sun-drenched Greek Mytoury in the 19th arrondissement, Sundays are reserved for family-style brunch and drag bingo. Diners gather around a rustic wooden table, with an olive tree at its center, piling their plates with spiced moussaka topped with béchamel and fluffy scrambled eggs with spinach alongside house-made creamy tarama. Around 3 p.m., as espresso and Balkan wine flow, Mademoiselle Kiss, dressed in a creamsicle-hued wrap dress and a Dolly Parton-inspired blonde wig, enchants the crowd with a bingo game that feels more like a performance—still, it's highly interactive.

At Ground Control, a popular food hall in Paris that also serves as a community hub, guests can enjoy hatha yoga sessions, get tarot readings, indulge in Japanese okonomiyaki crafted by Top Chef contestant Cesar Lewandowski, and wrap up the night with Tremaine’s acclaimed Blu.e Velvet drag show, hosted by HitsuBlu sporting their signature Dalí mustache.

Even traditional cabaret venues have successfully merged drag performances with fine dining. At La Nouvelle Eve, where most nights feature classic cabaret acts, including cancan and Édith Piaf tunes, 2024 will see the legendary Pigalle club hosting King Chefs & Drag Queens, a traveling event that pairs drag with haute cuisine. For 155 euros ($166), patrons enjoy a four-course meal prepared by Michelin-starred chefs like Jacques Maximin, accompanied by performances from drag artists such as La Grande Dame (Drag Race France Season 1), Mami Watta (Season 2), and Cookie Kunty (Season 2).

As the drag audience expands and venues gain popularity, performers may encounter new challenges. The Sister has recently earned accolades, including a spot on Time Out’s 15 best cocktail bars in Paris. Sometimes, guests arrive for the innovative cocktails, oblivious to the drag shows happening around them.

“Once, I overheard someone lamenting that the show was spoiling the atmosphere,” Tremaine recalls. “I looked at her and said, ‘Baby, that is the vibe of the place. If you disagree, you can leave.’”

In other instances, ignorant onlookers can pose real threats. Oona recounted an event at a club in Bastille, an area more known for its student bars than its queer venues, where a drag performer was assaulted after a show. “We found out they were straight, drunk, and not fans of queer art,” Oona explains. “In my time performing, I've only seen that happen once.”

Oona believes that the conflict is partly fueled by France’s far right, which has long opposed LGBTQ rights and marriage equality, and has recently turned its attention to trans rights specifically.

While risks are a regrettable consequence of drag becoming mainstream, many within the community feel that such conflicts amplify the need for visibility. Performers and supporters are fiercely committed to protecting queer spaces, including cabarets.

“A significant wave of drag artists is emerging to say, hey baby, stop,” Oona emphasizes. “We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re ready to use entertainment to educate people that we’re free, we care for one another, and we’re creating a platform for self-expression while advocating for minorities.”

A clear disparity persists between the careers and treatment of Paris’s leading drag stars and other performers, creating a ‘glass ceiling’ between Drag Race contestants and their peers, as Oona describes it. However, various performers and venues are gradually shattering this barrier, enriching the entire community by showcasing the remarkable diversity within the drag scene.

Caitlin Gunther is a trilingual journalist whose work has appeared in Saveur, Bon Appétit, Condé Nast Traveler, the New York Times, Travel + Leisure, Harper’s Bazaar, the Washington Post, and more. Based in Paris, she has lived and cooked across various regions of Spain, including Madrid, Bilbao, and Mallorca. Caitlin is currently penning a memoir about her journey from law to the culinary world in Basque Country.