When Love Struts in

The Showdown

The energy backstage was as electric as ever. It was one of those nights where the anticipation was so thick you could almost see it floating in the air like the shimmer of glitter dusted on every available surface. The dressing room, crammed with sequins, feathers, and frantic queens, was a chaotic symphony of nerves and excitement.

Marina strutted into the room like she owned the place. Her entrance was a full production in itself—heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor, the hem of her sequined gown swishing around her ankles, and her signature bright red lipstick gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. All eyes turned to her as she made her way to her station, exuding confidence with every step.

“Ay, mga bakla! Ready na ba kayo to witness the real queen of the night?” Marina announced, her voice booming with practiced bravado as she flung her wig dramatically onto the chair beside her. She flashed a smile at the queens around her, some of whom were too busy perfecting their looks to respond, while others gave her encouraging nods.

La Grande Dame, also known as Dada, was already there, standing tall in front of her mirror. At 6'4", Dada towered over everyone else, and she knew how to use that height to her advantage. Her costume was a masterpiece of elegance—rich, deep purples and golds, with a headdress that added another foot to her already intimidating stature. She was the picture of calm and composure as she adjusted the intricate folds of her outfit.

When Marina entered, Dada didn’t turn, but her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She kept her gaze fixed on her own reflection, continuing to apply her makeup with deliberate precision.

“Ah, Marina,” Dada began, her voice as smooth as velvet, laced with just a hint of condescension. “Nagpakita ka rin, finally. I was beginning to wonder kung nasaan ka na. Baka naman nagkaroon ka ng ‘wardrobe malfunction’?”

Marina smirked, undeterred by Dada’s subtle jab. “Dada, darling, ang taas mo talaga. Baka mabingi ka na diyan sa height mo, kaya hindi mo marinig yung ‘standing ovation’ ko mamaya.” She spun on her heel, her gown shimmering under the lights, and started setting up her makeup station.

Dada chuckled softly, her laughter a rich, resonant sound that filled the room. Really, Marina? A height joke? Gosh, at this height, I barely notice your pettiness. Sana mag-grow ka din one day. She finally turned to look at Marina, her expression one of amused superiority. “But tell me, dear, how’s the ‘vintage’ look working out for you? You know, some of us have moved on to ‘modern’ styles.”

Marina arched an eyebrow, her inner monologue already racing with retorts. Vintage? Wow, Dada, ang bago naman ng insult mo. If I wanted to be bored, I’d read your diary. But tonight, I’m here to make you wish you stayed sa old school. She carefully applied another layer of lip gloss, making sure every detail was perfect. “Well, Dada, some things are timeless, like me. And some things,” she paused, giving Dada a pointed look, “just get old.”

Dada smiled, unfazed. Oh, Marina, darling. If you only knew how much ‘old’ means experience and skill. Fresh is good, but we’ll see if you can match my years of dedication and grace. She returned to her mirror, delicately placing her headdress back on.

The other queens in the room were clearly enjoying the exchange, whispering amongst themselves. One queen leaned over to another, “Grabe, parang teleserye ito. Pero more drama and less commercials.”

The stage manager, a young man who always looked like he was one step away from a nervous breakdown, burst into the room, waving a clipboard like it was a magic wand that could somehow calm the chaos. “Ladies, we’ve got five minutes until showtime. Can we please keep the backstage drama to a minimum? The audience is packed, and we need you all at your best.”