After an intense week of stressing about sequins and faffing about feathers, the time has come for Eden Loweth and Tom Barratt of Art School to let their wigs downs and get into the groove. School's out and it's time to boogie!

4PM PREP

TOM: I have to scrub and shave my man body away in order to rebirth as an I'm-your-Venus goddess. This takes approximately 8 hours so I use Bernard’s Watch to freeze time. By 6pm I have arisen like a phoenix from the wreckage of the week.

 

EDEN: Don’t forget to moisturise! I slather on half a pound of that Nivea stuff in the blue tub. Is cheap as chips and works a charm - 5 seconds later and my body absorbs it like a sponge. Oops, I must have been dry! That's because I only drink tea and petrol.

 

TOM: I always find the key to beauty is an absolute fuck ton of concealer.

 

EDEN: LOL not forgetting the gobs of glitter you use to cover whatever you've balls-ed up.

6PM PRINKS

EDEN: Vodka with cava, Rum and Robinson's, Cherry Pepsi and tequila… we drink whatever's left on the kitchen shelf.

 

TOM: To get us in the mood to groove, we start playing ‘Better Off Alone’ by Alice Deejay and then let YouTube auto-play the rest. We’re not fussy music-wise but love a strong female vocal.

8PM WARDROBE CRISIS

 

TOM: Shit, I just remembered I'm still naked, so I assemble an outfit from the masses of tat I bought from Finsbury Park RSPCA charity shop back in 2014 and hope for the best.

 

EDEN: I usually throw a belt around my neck and call it an outfit.

 

TOM: If only my look was as effortless!

10PM GETTING IN

 

TOM: We head to Vogue Fabrics on Stoke Newington Road to get this party started. Emily Crooked is the gatekeeper tonight – we gave her her big break walking in our AW19 show, but no ma'am she ain't letting us in for free!

 

EDEN: But we're Art School darling!! Tom attempts Bambi eyes and tilts his head. "Awwwhh okay fine,” he says, and we cough up.

 

TOM: Looks like we're minesweeping tonight.

11PM TIPSY

 

EDEN: The VFD basement is still quiet, but we're revving our engines for a big one.

 

TOM: Besides, I need the dancefloor space for my windmill arms. It's the gorgeous Lucia's night tonight… but when isn't it? She has monopolised Queer London nightlife and all of the finest alt-nights are house down in this disco dungeon.

 

EDEN: I think the nights called Donkey.. or Transatlantic? Transcendonkey? Boogie woogie? Mushy peas? Who cares, we’re drunk!

12PM PARTY

TOM: Saint Ann appears like Lady Murder, evil and seductive and I cry because I'm a basic bitch. We all watch as Pete Burns is resurrected via Cilla Black in the final boss form of Kevin Le Grand – East London’s high witch.

EDEN: She’s doing a performance!

TOM: Miss Ratty-you-say-goodbye-I-say-hello is up. Sexy and sizzling, spinning around in a thong like a weeny wipper snapper!

1AM THE GOSS

EDEN: All the Queens congregate in Lyall's (VFD founder) secret lair-cum-dressing-room to spill the tEa hENny!

TOM: Ooh no! Oh don't!! Oh you're dreadful! I can't understand a word of whatever these bitches is saying, I'm far too ‘lit’.

EDEN: Lets trot off for a cigarette.

3AM HnH?

TOM: Dear Reader, you may ask what special candy is being consumed at this sordid sweet shop. Well, let me tell you honey, we don't need any beeny boppers because this sugar is raw! We're high off the light of God and sweet Jesus this is some good shit!

4AM AFTER PARTY

EDEN: After a boorish encounter with some bloke, we are politely asked to piss off from the after-party we’ve wound up at. A shame because it was actually a nice flat for once.

TOM: We make our way to Saint and Jack's house for an all-night goer!

EDEN: Having said that, you’re passed out on the kitchen table half-an-hour later and you don’t wake up until 11AM.

11AM HANGOVER

TOM: Omg, we're still here and all the residents made breakfast whilst I was snoring. Eden sorts an Uber for us with Kevin Le Grand and Lucia in tow.

EDEN: The radio doesn't work so Miss Grand leads us in a recital of Wheels on the Bus.

TOM: I'm sure the driver just loves us! 

1PM: TO BED

TOM: Finally, we lay down to rest. Fully clothed, with our heels still on, you can find us the day after the night before reclining like the corpse of a Vegas show girl paralysed by the Basilisk mid-Big Spender.

EDEN: What a night!