A long, long, long, time ago; in a galaxy far, far away (the sparkling world of New York, in the ‘90s) I met someone who would change the course of my life, forever.  Armen Ra.

A gender-dysphoric Iranian exile, whose family of eccentric artistes and scholars [aunt was a classically-trained opera singer who practiced the Japanese art of Ikebana, grandmother was tight with Charles Aznavour and Lucianna Serra, and his mother (an amazing woman imbued with the patience of the proverbial saint) was a concert pianist, and the family was transported, hither and yon, in a chauffeur-driven stretch Mercedes with pink suede interiors] happened to be vacationing, when the Ayatollah came to power.

Due to his diminutive stature, English as a fourth language (after Armenian, Farsi, and French) and dark features (not to mention the velvet shorts and suspenders he wore to public school in their suburb of Boston) he was an obvious target for the schoolyard bullies.  Imagine – looking like a young Sal Mineo, being gay, and being an Iranian ex-pat (no matter that they were Christian Armenians) especially in the late ’70s!  Needless to say, it wasn’t a particularly happy combo-platter, and led to Armen’s being expelled from school when he finally stood-up to his aggressors.

He made his way to New York, and became one of the darlings (and divas) of New York’s thriving post-Studio 54 club-scene, the Downtown demimonde.  Pyramid, Boy Bar, Jackie 60, Red Zone, Palladium, Limelight, Club USA, Tunnel – if it was hopping in the ‘80s and ‘90s, Armen (then performing, in his own unique version of drag that was equal parts Dead ‘20s Movie Star, Maria Callas, Madame Butterfly, and Gypsy Woman – as Her Royal Highness Layla Scheherazade Dovima Stradivaria Zoraya – aka Princess Zoraya) was there; dancing on a go-go box, doing a show, being photographed by such luminaries as Roxanne Lowit and Tina Paul for publication in everything from magazines to coffee table books.  And mind you, it was all while wearing a woman’s size 0!

When I met him, in the late ‘90s, Armen was already growing weary of the scene, but had just returned from an extended stay in Los Angeles.  It was Armen who would introduce me to many of the people who I look at today as some of my closest friends – Amy Sacco, Billy Erb, Jimmy James, Patricia Field, Donna D’Cruz and Tom Silverman – and took me to my first drag show (to see him perform, alongside Sister Dimension and Paul Alexander, at DJ Gant Johnson’s weekly Salon Wednesday party, at Flamingo East).  I was transported watching Sister Dimension, dressed as an intergalactic cheerleading grandmother, waving pom-poms to Chopin; Armen in a latex fishtail gown, lip-synching to Shirley Bassey’s “I Who Have Nothing” while wiping imaginary tears from his eyes with dollar bills, not to mention Paul being, well, Paul – with all the glamour and style that entails.

There's more to come; so I'll see you, next time, for Part 2!!!

When My Sorrow Died: The Legend of Armen Ra & the Theremin
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