Toronto Diary
7 min

The Drag Race RuCap: And we’ll all float on, okay

My, is it Tuesday already? Then you know what that means: it’s time for another Drag Race RuCap! This week, the queens are tasked with putting together a float for Pride while jiggling their bolt-ons for a wet T-shirt contest. Let’s take a look at the shit that worked and the shit that sank.

The queens enter the work room once again, and something’s a little different. Emphasis on the little, because Kenya was given her tiny little boot and exiled back to the thimble she lives in after last week’s Snatch Game shenanigans. She leaves behind a message for That Bitch Phi Phi, which just goes to show that her judge of character is about as spot on as her Beyoncé impression.

While TBPP and Milan wipe off Kenya’s makeup message, the other queens reflect on last week’s weepy elimination. Most of the girls aren’t buying Willam’s cry last week, and can we talk about Willam for a minute? Because I feel like she’s doing some kind of Andy Kaufman thing right now where she’s become this send-up of reality TV contestants and I wonder if this is deliberate? It’s absolute fucking genius. No jokes. It’s pure, unadulterated genius.

Anyway, back on schedule. RuPaul chimes in with an Ooo, girl! You got SheMail! where she makes a bunch of boating puns, because why not? There hasn’t been a nautical challenge yet. Absolutely none of the girls understand what the fuck she’s talking about, so for all the clues, Ru might as well have read them A Confederacy of Dunces in Swedish. Anyway, in walks boy Ru to announce a mini-challenge: the girls will be competing in a wet T-shirt contest. How exactly does one accurately measure a wet T-shirt contest? No fucking clue, but DO NOT QUESTION BOY RU. The queens are each given a breastplate from boobsforqueens.com and told to dress up.

Milan takes to the challenge like a fish to water, spreading her legs and whipping her hair. Chad Michaels is completely delivering on the MILF thing but isn’t really moving all that much. Jiggly Caliente looks and acts exactly like Snooki, minus the UTI. Sharon Needles, as the more hard-edge queen, goes for campy rather than sexy, which somehow bends back around to sexy because I love a bitch that can kick my ass. That Bitch Phi Phi throws on a pink wig and does the polar opposite of Sharon, going for sexy and ending up with both her boobs and her wig flying right off her body. Willam, on the other hand, is WELL within her element, and you can tell she loves every minute she’s onstage. Objectively, Dida Ritz probably has the most control over her bouncing bosom, and Latrice Mothafuckin’ Royale delivers some big-girl splits that drives the crowd bananas.

Naturally, Willam wins, and while it isn’t specifically announced, That Bitch Phi Phi loses HARD, and you can tell she’s absolutely livid. Although livid is kinda TBPP’s default setting, so who gives a fuck. Anyway, back in the workroom, RuPaul gives the girls a herstory lesson, telling them about the drag queen who started the Stonewall riot. This ties in to this week’s challenge, which is to create a look inspired by the theme of “Hope Floats” while styling their own tiny foam boat. Furthermore, each queen is assigned a different coloured hanky by Willam, based off the rainbow flag, that they must design their look around. Got all that? The colours go:

Red (fisting) – Dida

Pink (tit torture) – Chad 

Orange (anything goes) – Jiggly

Yellow (piss) – Milan

Green (prostitution) – Sharon

Turquoise (oral) – Latrice

Indigo hanky (anal) – Willam

Violet (piercings) – That Bitch Phi Phi 

Willam has the right idea, handing the colours out randomly so that no one is given preferential treatment, but Jiggly hates having to work with orange. Willam, as the evil queen, is using the inherent evil underbelly of the colour green to her advantage. The queens reminisce on Stonewall while they work, each giving thanks to the previous generation who paved the way for them . . . Except for Jiggly, who sputters after having accidentally swallowed a handful of glitter. 

Enter boy Ru to monitor the girls’ work. Jiggly is in trouble off the bat for having a look but no statement behind it. “Dreams . . . are . . . possible?” she offers, to the general indifference of Ru. Dida is going for a ‘70s throwback look since that was the decade where the immediate aftermath of Stonewall took place. Willam dazzles Ru by using a quote from Ru’s book to tie in to the theme of her look, before pulling out Carrie’s Dolce & Gabbana coat from Sex and the City because (all together now!) Willam was on Sex and the City once. Willam is an evil genius and I love her for it. Milan, unfortunately, has no idea how to sell her look, saying that she doesn’t sew since she can just get other people to sew for her. Well hello there, red flag, nice to see you again. Ru’s unimpressed with That Bitch Phi Phi’s look, so she forces her to pull up some painful childhood memories to inspire her. 

Once Ru is gone, Dida starts freaking out because she accidentally fucked up her paint job, and she’s not taking it well. Jiggly isn’t faring much better, with no clue what to even do with her boat. Willam is channelling her narcissism well, turning her message of self-love into a pretty uplifting theme that That Bitch Phi Phi just loathes. But the biggest red flag goes to Milan, who during a discussion on Pride performances reveals that she doesn’t actually have a clearly defined style of drag. And the flag gets even redder when, in a talking-head moment, she reveals she doesn’t want to be pigeon-holed as a drag queen, while on a show looking for America’s next drag superstar. So yeah, she’s going home. I’m watching this episode in real time, so that’s just a guess, but still . . . Like fuck is she staying another week.

While Milan counts the hours until she’s given the heave-ho, Willam starts pulling some Tyra Sanchez Wedding Dress challenge shit, running her mouth off to anyone who will listen and singing off-key while waving around her fabric. This, of course, drives everyone else nuts, but I have to give her credit — she can troll with the best of ‘em. Apparently, the mind games are working because Jiggly ends up creating a penis anchor to hang off the end of her boat. Eventually, Jiggly once again fails to edit, piling on everything she can get her hands on until it basically looks like a pile of trash. Actually, Jiggly is so far behind that the rest of the queens are in drag and ready with their boats before she’s even done hot-gluing shit on her vessel. But enough about that; on to the main stage!

But wait wait wait wait wait . . . Wait. Was that Jesse Santana in the background? You see, this is what elevates RuPaul’s Drag Race from being a great show to being THE BEST SHOW EVER. Anyway, main stage looks:

Chad Michaels is doing a pink showgirl look that would be welcome in any Pride parade. Dida is wearing some cute red harem pants, but the fuzzy sweater is throwing me off here. Jiggly looks the mess, of course, once again designing a scattershot heap. Thankfully, hers is followed up by the screaming yellow monstrosity of Milan’s kindergarten class project, topped with a Gatorade-yellow wig. Sharon Needles goes with a Poison Ivy look, complete with a snake sleeve that slithers as she moves. Latrice comes out in a very simple but elegant blue ensemble, and I just realized this, but this is the third week in a row she’s using blue, and it looks great on her. Willam goes above and beyond the call of duty, dropping anchor onstage and shimmying off Carrie’s jacket, and she by far sells it the best. And finally, That Bitch Phi Phi comes out as Purple That Bitch Phi Phi. The end.

Right off the bat, Chad, Latrice and Sharon are all given their safe cards before Willam is declared the winner, and at last, a tiny crack in her shell crumbles through as it’s revealed that she actually has a bit of a weird, braying laugh. It humanizes her, and to be honest, I think it’s one of the most adorable things ever. That Bitch Phi Phi and Dida follow along behind her into the safety queue. This means Jiggly and Milan are left behind to lip-sync for their lives to (oh, for fuck’s sake . . . ) Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way."

Once again, Jiggly proves herself one hell of a syncher, dancing and singing on point while Milan plays “LOOK AT ME!” with the high-kicks. Actually, can we talk about Milan one more time before she goes? I fucking HATE the way she lip-syncs for her life. I noticed this in her battle against Kenya last week, but she has a habit of copying the other queen when she’s dancing, to the point where when Jiggly’s splits receive a round of awed hoots, Milan dutifully follows with her own splits. Seriously. Milan, you may want to consider stepping off Jiggly’s dress, bitch. It’s rather unsportsmanlike. Of course, when that doesn’t net her the adoration Jiggly receives, Milan absolutely CRACKS, tearing off her wig and dress. It’s absolutely cringe-inducing to behold.

Which is to say, Jiggly is allowed the chantay you stay, while Milan swiffers away.

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