In Scenester, we spotlight the coolest shows, parties, and events in the City and beyond. It's like you're there, but you don't even have to get dressed. Want us to stop by? Contact Joshua at joshua@gazetteer.co.
Outside the Public Works nightclub in the Mission Sunday afternoon, a small but mighty crowd of club-goers gathered ‘round a mechanical bull in their assless best for a good new-fashioned Cuntry Fair (nope, not a typo). When I arrived, California country singer Tanner Adell’s stomp-clap barnstormer “Beer Can” was in the air.
It was the second iteration of the monthly party, thrown by radical queer and trans dance party crew Vamp. The decor was classic Americana, strewn with bales of hay and stars and stripes. There was dancing, ring-toss, and can knock-down competitions. A bouncer asked me to sign a liability waiver to ride the mechanical bull, bucking away in an inflatable pit. I signed, despite being a bit terrified of it; there was always a chance I’d feel braver three tequila shots deep.
The partygoers around me had responded to the call to come in their campy yeehaw best: assless chaps, Realtree hunting camo, fringed vests and Wrangler jeans, a whole lot of cowboy boots and hats, and, of course, leather collars and harnesses.
All over the club, people were mouthing along to Big & Rich and Keith Urban songs; atop the hay bales, burlesque dancers from the local Bad Bitch Burlesque collective showed off a different version of the American idyll. (They later performed on the Public Works stage). Meanwhile, in a small, cordoned-off zone in the club, a “pettin’ zoo” replaced the traditional billy goats and bunnies with leather-and-chain-clad pups looking to be pet.
“I grew up in the country, going to county fairs and 4-H and all that,” party organizer Niko Storment, who was raised in the Sonoma County farmlands, told me. “I really wanted to offer an opportunity for people to interact with culture in that way in a queer context.”
In no way is this a family-friendly affair, or even something you’d find at the country-themed bars in the Marina. But there is something incredibly wholesome about the idea of an inclusive, queer and trans-friendly country function. Storment emphasized that he wanted the party to be inclusive of all types of cowboys, right down to the music: For every “Achy Breaky Heart” or Shania cut, the DJs played a ranchera or Southern rap joint. Down-home culture is for everyone.
As I wandered around, a handful of folks gather around the can knockdown booth to watch in thrall as a burlesque dancer unsuccessfully tossed three bean bags; the person managing the booth knocked the cans down as an act of kindness. A couple of older femmes swayed to Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line” on the dance floor.
When I got to the fried food stall, it was out of funnel cake (I settled for a perfectly good corn dog). Nearby, a small group started to line dance.
By design, the Cuntry Fair is campy as hell: “I made a resolution to myself that I didn't want to throw any more new parties unless they made me laugh,” Storment told me. But I was delighted by the crowd’s unabashed fondness for country music, not at all bogged down by irony — especially those who, unlike me, managed to brave the mechanical bull before the night was over.
The party was a bit sparsely attended, likely the victim of both a dramatic BART shut down and the nearby Up Your Alley Fair, which serves as something of a pre-game to Folsom for the kink community. Still, the party’s only in its second month; it seems likely that, as word of mouth grows, attendance will become more robust. After all, even club kids want to be a cowboy for a day.
The next Vamp’s Cuntry Fair is scheduled for August 18 at Public Works.
