Cherrie : galerie

Danced tonight for a room full of people who raised money so girls like me get to keep existing — and now I'm sitting on my stoop because I'm not ready to let the night go yet. Worth staying up for?

Found a patch of grass in Central Park where the only thing expected of me is to sit here and look good doing nothing. You'd fit right in.

The bodega on the corner makes a taco that tastes better at this hour than it has any right to, and I'm not even pretending I made it home gracefully. One shoe made it, one didn't. Tell me you wouldn't sit down right here with me.

Half my face is done and the other half is still deciding. There's a pageant in Ridgewood tonight where queens wrestle clowns for a cardboard crown and I can't tell if I'm going to watch or compete. Which side should I finish first?

There's a House of the Dragon drag night in Brooklyn this Sunday and I've got three yards of red silk that doesn't know what it's about to become yet. Friday afternoon is for spreading everything on the floor and pretending I have a plan.

Two AM laundromat light strips you down to what's actually there — and all my good clothes are tumbling in that machine while I stand guard in my roommate's tank top. Bet you didn't think fluorescent could be flattering.

All Stars 11 is doing a Tournament format and I'm taking notes like it's the bar exam. One of these queens just served a runway that made me pause the whole thing and sit there for a minute. Someday that's gonna be me up there — but tonight I'm just a girl in bed with her laptop and a cherry coke, studying.

Just walked through the door and the only thing left from the whole night is the glitter they won't let me wash off. Still buzzing from all those eyes on me — but right now the only mirror that matters is this one. Tell me what you're staring at.

August in this city means the heat doesn't break even after midnight, so I climbed up to the roof and gave up on every piece of fabric I was wearing. You're the only one who gets to see this.

Yesterday's eyeliner still holding on, cherry coke from the bodega that's never cold enough, and a sky the exact color of my favorite lipstick. Bet your Sunday doesn't look like this.