REVIEW: Drag Done Right: Mistress, Opal, and Faggity Take Waterworks
5/3 @ Waterworks Pub, Albany
Photos by Kiki Vassilakis
“Sometimes, the loudest moments, the ones with the pop ballads, hair flips, and rhinestones, can also be the softest. The safest.”
Waterworks Pub was a sweaty, glitter-soaked sanctuary where drag reigned supreme and queerness was gospel on May 3rd during Illusions, the beloved local drag showcase that brings out the girls, the gays, the theys, the icons, and everyone in between.
A double dose of chaos and charisma from hosts Opal Essence and Faggity Anne carried us through the night with equal parts heart and humor. Headlining the night was The Mistress herself: Season 15 Drag Race royalty, Mistress Isabelle Brooks.
Though the first round of performances had kicked things off by the time I arrived, the second round more than made up for what I missed. It wasn’t just entertaining—it was affirming, powerful, and electric.
Faggity Anne walked out like she owned the city, dipped in rhinestones and belting “Set Fire to the Rain” live. Live. Who does that? A queen with nothing to prove. Watching her command the room with nothing but a mic, the sparkle of rhinestones, a stamped face, and pure stage presence? That was a moment. People screamed, sang along, and held their friends close. It was vulnerability. It was guts. It was drag with its heels dug in. We cheered, we cried, we lived.
Opal Essence gave us elegance, reverence, and body down. She stepped onto the stage cloaked in a sheer black robe that floated behind her like smoke, commanding the room with grace before a single note even hit. As Alicia Keys’ “Empire State of Mind” played, she moved with intention – slow, deliberate, regal. And then, right on cue, the robe slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her feet, revealing a beaded taupe gown so stunning it practically refracted light. Matched with opera gloves and a flawless beehive, the entire look was a masterclass in restraint, timing, and drag done right. The crowd came alive, suddenly a choir, singing in unison. A wave of camaraderie moved through the room, wrapping everyone in something rare: a feeling of community, of safety.
And then, Mistress Isabelle Brooks.
She emerged in a leopard print gown that shimmered with every step, paired with big black hair that bounced like it had its own fan club, and honey, that face was STAMPED. But with this performance, it wasn’t about the flash or the flips; Mistress knew exactly what she was doing. From the moment she stepped out, she kept the pacing tight, controlled, intentional. Her Whitney Houston medley didn’t explode—it simmered, it burned, it pulled the room in closer, note by note.
And that’s what made it magic.
It’s not always flips and dips and death drops (though we love them, TRUST). Sometimes it’s a ballad. A perfectly timed lip quiver. A glance. The way a queen carries herself in a gown so elegant it barely moves. She didn’t need to cartwheel to command the room—she already had us, fully. What she gave instead was presence—true presence. Power in stillness. Emotion in restraint. A reminder that drag is not a one-note art form.
The whole night was a masterclass in the dynamism of drag, how queens can serve camp and high energy, and in an instant, step in with something softer, sultrier, and just as unforgettable. It’s all drag. It’s all valid. But when someone walks in and reminds you that less can be more, and still have the room screaming? That’s a queen in full control of her craft. And every single one of those queens did exactly what needed to be done.
But what struck me most was the atmosphere. The room was a tapestry of queer joy. People sang, danced, hugged, and screamed. Queens filled the audience just as much as the stage; local legends like Lexxi Pro, Piper Fixation, Stella Progress, Fenix Fox, and a whole constellation of other favorites were in the crowd, showing love, hyping each other up, living out loud.
There was no competition. No ego. Just community. It felt like a glimpse of what safe spaces for queer people are supposed to be: a sanctuary for everyone to come as they are and exist unapologetically. Sometimes, the loudest moments, the ones with the pop ballads, hair flips, and rhinestones, can also be the softest. The safest.
And remember, tip your fucking drag queens!
