Visiting Lips in Midtown Manhattan – What a Drag!

“Now put your lips together and blow, you little slut. Look pretty for the camera.” While those words might ring offensive to most people’s ears, I promise, they go down much smoother when paired with a bottle or two of champagne. That saucy sentiment and ones like it are part of the regular lexicon when visiting Lips in Midtown Manhattan.

For over 20 years, the drag queens at Lips have been serving up booze, food, and shade to tourists and locals alike. In general, drag queens are known for their quick wit and raunchy humor, but the talent at Lips is especially adept in the comedic art form.

Lips is a combination of glamour, camp, and theater. As soon as you walk in the door, you know that you’re in for an unparalleled few hours.

The performers and servers look as though they’ve tumbled out of an adult version of a Dr. Seuss book: hair the colors of neon cotton candy, and some natural tones sit atop the heads of the stuff like massive, delicious beehives. Their make-up is every cosmetic enthusiast’s wet dream and envy, their cat eyeliner is perfectly winged and dramatic, their smoky eyes are smoldering, and their lips and rouge are bitchin’. 

One can’t help but be awe-stricken by the dazzling decor covering every inch of the venue. Lips offers a “Vegas-style” cabaret experience, so it’s only fitting that the aesthetic reflects that notion. The glam squad has left no corner un-glittered. Sequins, mirrors, shimmer, lace, and feathers adorn just about everything. Muted colors? Please. This ain’t your mother’s house in the midwest. If it’s neon and loud, it’s allowed. The ceiling has not one, but several shining disco balls and large chandeliers. Naturally.

This particular journey was my third time visiting Lips. 

Our server, a skinny blonde queen with Shirley Temple ringlets, introduced herself and told us that she was new. She got us started on food orders and didn’t even bat an eye when we requested our drinks. 

“No, no. We do want the mimosas, but we want regular, full bottles of champagne on the side to add to the mimosas,” my aunt explained. Yeah, it’s that kind of party at Lips. The server puckered her lips and smiled with her eyes as if the request was not only a good one, but a brilliant one at that.

The food does take a while to arrive at the table, usually just in time to avoid drunkenly telling people how you really feel about things. Just in time for when you’re about to start yelling things, even though you think you’re only whispering. “YOU KNOW WHY I DON’T LIKE MELINDA? I’LL BE HONEST, SHE COMPLAINS A LOT.” That type of thing.

The entrée options at Lips are standard fare, and some dishes are better than others. The chicken alla vodka is particularly memorable. The crunch and crispiness of the sweet peas set amongst the heavy and creamy sauce make it a solid choice. Lips offers both brunch and dinner shows, and the menu changes depending on which one you attend. If you don’t get sloshed on mimosas and bubbly at brunch, spring for the Frozen cosmo. Two are sufficient to get you in the right mood for the performances.

Halfway through eating, the show—along with all the fun that comes with it—finally begins. For brunch, Ginger Snap was our host. She wasted no time in letting the jokes fly and getting the crowd amped for an array of performances. Every server takes a turn entertaining the masses by lip-synching to famous Broadway tunes. When it’s your server’s turn, be sure to show support by whooping extra loud and shoving some dollar bills into her bucket and clothing.  

Each performer skips, shimmies, shakes, and sometimes does a split to hype up the crowd and earn some cash. Some performers take their routine seriously by trying to impersonate their chosen persona both in appearance and behavior. Others, such as Ginger Snap, who acted out Little Orphan Annie, are more than willing to go to extraordinary lengths to elicit riotous laughter from the audience.

Each time that I’ve visited Lips, the audience has largely been gay men and women of whose sexual identity I don’t know. Most people who attend Lips do so for some kind of celebration, such as a bachelorette or birthday party. The staff really go out of their way for guests who are celebrating a special occasion. All are given a chance to walk onstage, engage in friendly and hysterical banter with the host, and accept a small cake and blow out its candle. If you go onstage, you also pose with the host and get to take the photo home for free. 

Birthday evenings are a blast at Lips. I’ll never forget attending a birthday party there for the first time. During the evening, a leather-clad leggy queen with a Madonna bust made sexually suggestive balloon ensembles for a price. Works included an ejaculating penis to wear around the waist, and a giant pair of lips to wear on the head. Note: If you drunkenly stumble into the ritzy Mandarin Oriental Hotel after Lips with your erotic gear on, they might find it tasteless and appalling. My early twenties were a hell of a time.

Bachelorettes are equally as wild. I’ll never forget the look on my horrified family member’s face at her bachelorette party. She was brought up onstage and, in front of everyone, had to answer: “Be honest. Are you marrying him for the money or the dick?” I won’t tell you how she responded—she might kill me. 

If you’re an out-of-towner, you should know that the abrasive but loving humor completely encapsulates the ethos of every New Yorker. We love everyone from every walk of life, but we’re also going to roast you and probably take your money while you’re visiting our city. Ginger Snap especially taunted a table of gay men from Arkansas. 

“Arkansas!? That’s like another country, honey. Enjoy our fine amenities that you might not be used to, like our free electricity and democracy, motherfuckers.” The men were red with glee. 

Let me help you out. The more doe-eyed and sinless you appear to be, the bigger the target on your forehead for jokes! There’s something endearing about a young, mid-Western gal, wrangled on stage who then proudly and loudly declares to the audience that she’s amazing at blowing when she’s asked to extinguish the candle on her cake. 

If drag isn’t popular where you live, this is one memory that you will always hold dear—unless, of course, you drink yourself into oblivion during the whole thing. That’s also acceptable at Lips. They proudly proclaim, “The more you drink, the better we look!”

On this third and most-recent time visiting Lips, my cousin, aunt, and I went with my mom to celebrate a milestone birthday of hers. It’s safe to say that my 60-year-old mother enjoyed every moment of the day. Of the performance, she continuously said, “Oh, I hope she doesn’t call me up onstage,” while practically chomping at the bit to climb up and perform. She was a disco diva back in her day and can do a mean hustle. The performers eventually called her up to dance and celebrate with the MC and other women. Full of the confidence and fun that alcohol brings, she twirled and “kick-ball-changed” around the stage to Shania Twain, dancing to her heart’s content. 

She and all of the other birthday bitches were given an opportunity to receive a cake and be taunted by Ginger Snap, followed by a photo op. Ginger’s voice crackled with grit as she sat wide-legged in her black lingerie, perching on the arm of a throne and eyeing my mother, who sat next to her, grinning in a golden crown. 

“60!? Can you believe this bitch is 60!? What a bitch!” The room erupted in applause, and one of the gay men clutched his pearls and applauded extra loudly. Yeah, it’s safe to say, I want to be my mother when I grow up. She’s not just a good-looking bitch—she’s our bitch. 

If you don’t want your upcoming trip to NYC to be a drag, do something out of your comfort zone and try visiting Lips! Feel free to wear your favorite wig when you do.