I’m no hair hopper, but I like Hairspray. The movie — the original — that is.
Last night Sheryl and I went to see The Divine Ms. Jimmi host a screening of John Waters’ Hairspray at the Trocadero. It was really a blast. The Divine Ms. Jimmi was in fine form and channeled Divine (much better looking if that’s okay to say), coming out at the start of the show in a house frock and at the end of the movie in her resplendent Roach Couture.
I was thinking that Hairspray could be the gay Rocky Horror Picture Show, with people getting up and dancing. (It would be fun to dance the Mashed Potato and do a few lines dances.) But then I remembered that Rocky Horror Picture Show is the gay Rocky Horror Picture Show, so that idea’s taken.
Funny side note: On the way home on the train, I wrote a Twitter post that said this. Blushing, I noticed my mistake and wrote down what I meant to say.
