On a sunny Sunday afternoon, there is a raucous line down the block of an industrial street in Brooklyn’s Bushwick neighborhood, and it had only just turned noon. A line this early on a weekend is rare in the neighborhood, but brunch is a contact sport in New York. You and your friends have to run a flawless, coordinated attack in order to snag a seat at temples to the meal like Clinton St. Baking Company and Russ & Daughters Cafe.
But the gaggle in Bushwick lining up to get into 3 Dollar Bill, a queer bar and performance space, is there for one thing, and it’s not the promise of chicken and waffles or a stack of pancakes. It’s drag brunch.
Imagine your typical brunch scene. Everyone — moms, dads, kids, grandparents, even — in their Sunday best, politely tucking into a short stack or, I don’t know, a Denver omelet. Norman Rockwell, but for the breakfast set.