My first experience of drag was watching The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert when I was 7 years old. Watching a coterie of campy queens dancing their way through the Australian outback, dripping in rhinestones, marabou and glitter, was an image I’ve never quite forgotten. Watching this free, unashamed glamour through the haze of my grainy VHS, sitting in a rainy suburb in Essex, Bernadette, Mitzi and Felicia became my idols.

Then came The Rocky Horror Picture Show. No longer the old-school glamour drag of outrageous colour and costumes, Frank ‘n’ Furter showed me a darker, sexier, more androgynous side of drag. A hedonistic, glamorous, transvestite alien who lives in a palatial manor with his very own muscle hunk… You can see why, in my awkward acne ridden pre-teen state, I envied Frank ‘n’ Furter. And the drag was appealing not because he looked or acted like a girl, but just because of the unabashed confidence. Prancing through life in a corset, pearl necklace and suspenders with a carefree nonchalance was unthinkable for me, now having escaped suburgatory and entered into the world of the all-boys boarding school. I couldn’t really envisage myself strutting into the buttery in a pair of thigh high boots, however much I may have wanted to.

It’s been a year since I teased my alter ego, Dinah Lux, into existence, and I couldn’t really imagine life without her. On the one hand, being a drag queen is just endless amounts of fun. Once you learn not to take yourself at all seriously, leaping round a club in six-inch heels and nipple tassels is an incomparable feeling. But there’s also a more personal side. Having this limitless confidence as a girl definitely has an impact on my life as a boy. Under the pseudonym of Dinah Lux, and under the layers of make-up, duct tape, glue stick, and false lashes, I adopt a whole other entity – but it is still essentially me. Although I may look and act nothing like myself as I do in the day, that confident creature is still me, and that confidence filters into my daily life. Whether it’s not caring if someone stares at my “weird” outfits in the street, or even just having to awkwardly answer a question in a lecture, Dinah has given me a lot more confidence.

Also, the opportunities I’ve had from it have been astounding. I was once at a nightclub with my best friend, and we got chatting to someone in the smoking area, and, in that classic drunken way, obviously became best friends with them. The next day I got a phone call from a magazine editor, who the guy had worked for, and within a month I was in the new Primal Scream music video. I’ve been lucky enough to shoot with Nick Knight, to be invited to the Yves Saint Laurent show in Paris, and host parties with Brooke Candy, all just because I happen to like to wear a dress of an evening.

Drag has taught me that, in the words of RuPaul, “if you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” But also, how is anyone else going to love you? If you have total, shameless enjoyment in being the best “you” you can be, then I truly think that everything else will fall into place. Yes, maybe I’m not going to get a first, and yes, maybe there are countless dangers and annoyances with being a drag queen, but the pros definitely outweigh the cons.

In dressing ourselves, we present an image to the outside world. Why not make it a glamorous one?