‘I want you to get out of this quarantine feeling and believe this is a party,” says Jay Jay Revlon, DJ, vogue dancer, father of the House of Revlon, and founder of London ball Let’s Have a Kiki. Revlon’s been running his club for two years and this Friday he’s hosting an online version as the finale to Dance Umbrella’s digital festival. It’s a chance to shake off lockdown malaise, get glammed up and brush up your moves – hands, floor, catwalk, duckwalk and dips, the five elements of vogueing – or just watch Revlon and fellow dancers Bam Bam 007 and Armani 007 perform. Originating in the Harlem drag balls that can be traced back to the 1920s, vogueing and ballroom culture reached a peak in late-80s New York (as seen in the Emmy-winning TV series Pose). Black and Latino gay men and trans women, ostracised from the mainstream, found alternative families, forming “houses” who competed on the catwalk, dressed in extravagant outfits and inspired by fashion imagery. Vogueing tipped into the mainstream thanks to Madonna’s 1990 hit Vogue, and it’s still thriving 30 years later, with a growing scene in the UK. An online ball sounds fun, but being alone at home in front of a screen surely can’t match the heat and noise of a club. How is Revlon going to get us in the mood? “The energy of the party and of the DJs is going to be enough,” he says. “It’s like the pre-drink on a normal night out, when you’re getting ready. I’m going to dress up and I’ll have my cats with me and I’m going to have fun. It’s just a pre-drink that you never leave.” But there’s no pressure to dress up, or even have your camera on, says Revlon. “Just come and be you.” The whole idea behind Let’s Have a Kiki was to create a space that was less about competition and more about community. It’s open to all. “If you’re respectful to this community then you’re more than welcome to stay. My balls are quite mixed: female, male, non-binary, the whole LGBTQ acronym, trans people come, white, black, Asian, everyone.” Anyone can go to the ball, but for some – “the people who really need it” – it becomes much more than a night out. “The people who DM you afterwards, who come to my vogue class, who talk to you about the experience – for them, it grows into a family, a community.” It really is a family affair as Revlon’s mum does the door, a big leap from early ballroom culture where many performers were estranged from their own families because of their sexuality. Revlon, who was born in Peckham in London, has been dancing since childhood but first saw vogueing on YouTube aged 14 (he’s now 28). He copied the moves, mastering one of the trickiest, a dramatic plunge to the ground in a half-split. “People reference it as a death drop,” he says disapprovingly, “but it’s called a dip.” Revlon favours the exaggerated femininity of the style called “vogue fem” (the Pussycat Dolls are one of his reference points). He also incorporates elements from the street dance, waacking, ballet and contemporary dance he’s trained in. He went briefly to dance college but after going to a ball in the Netherlands, he knew he’d found his calling and his people. “The thing about ballroom is the support system is there,” says Revlon. “Even if you don’t know someone who’s performing, you’re rooting for them.” The secret to being a great voguer? “Go out there with confidence and just put all of you on the floor,” says Revlon. Vogueing is less of a dance style, he says, more a form of expression. “It’s not just hitting 5-6-7-8 on the music. You have to have something to say.” While vogueing is about personal expression and partying, it’s political, too – that’s built into the fabric of why this culture exists, the marginalised creating their own sanctuary. That’s still relevant now. “Yes, because there’s still racism, there’s still homophobia, misogyny, anti-trans actions,” says Revlon. There’s a proud protectiveness of ballroom culture among its community, who’ve seen elements of it co-opted over the years: there was controversy over Madonna’s Blond Ambition tour and even director Jennie Livingston’s landmark documentary Paris Is Burning, where the performers featured didn’t get the recognition, influence or hard cash they arguably should have. Pose, says Revlon, is a more respectful example because there were members of the ballroom community on the writing and choreography teams, and trans actors in leading roles. “It’s about giving our community the opportunities,” says Revlon. Opportunities of all kinds have been scarce this year for anyone involved in live events. Revlon had gigs at the Albert Hall and in Paris cancelled and ended up locked down in Spain. He had Covid himself (“10 days of horribleness”), but he’s been running his online vogueing classes every week, trying to keep the sense of community intact for the sake of everybody’s mental health. How has he kept going? “I try to stay positive,” says Revlon. “And there’s a lot of Rioja on top of that.” And then there’s his secret weapon. “In pain and struggle, vogue is the answer,” he says. “If things get cancelled, what’s the point in worrying? It’s out of your hands. Let’s just vogue.”