Bridget Barkan doesn’t just enter a room — she erupts into it, a shape‑shifting New York original whose voice carries the grit of downtown clubs, the glamour of queer nightlife, and the soul of a woman who has survived every version of herself. Fresh off a meteoric return to the spotlight with Scissor Sisters and now unleashing her high‑camp, funk‑soaked self‑anthem Red Carpet, Barkan stands as a living reminder that artistry isn’t granted, auditioned for, or bestowed — it’s claimed. With her trademark fire, her chosen family of drag icons at her back, and a lifetime of reinvention fueling her stride, she turns every stage into a declaration: she is the spectacle, the story, the star, and the runway all at once.
Red Carpet” is both camp and confession. When did you realize this song wasn’t just a joke about being a redhead, but a personal manifesto about reclaiming your own spotlight?
Well, since I am a Gemini, two or more things are always true at the same time. It was definitely born from being mostly cheeky. But I am totally the comedy and tragedy masks, a DRAMA queen, major. The depth is inherently enveloped within the humor for me. I think I have always had a hard time with “ego” music, even though as a native New Yorker raised by 80s/90s Hip Hop, I love a good lyrical battle. But I’ve never been one to sing about how dope I am, or how a lover lost out on the baddest bitch ya know. I’m a bit more self-deprecating and vulnerable. So, this song when it burst out of me, claiming my ferocity, I hesitated to let it swoop me up in its fire. When I surrendered to its magic, there were many layers that began to unfold for me. Claiming my journey, how hard I’ve worked and that I am a bad bitch, a humble Queen but still a bad bitch.
You’ve lived your entire life inside the entertainment machine — film, TV, theatre, burlesque, music. What moment made you say, “I’m done waiting to be chosen; I’m choosing myself”?
I think because I have been within the machine for so long, like literally in the industry my whole life. What I say in the song is true, my first job was Baby Jesus. Growing up going to three auditions a day at times for so many years, the rejection definitely creates a pattern in your brain. So I would say that every day I have to choose myself. In every new opportunity or possibility, there is another chance to go through the door that leads to the castle or the door that leads to certain death. Holler, if you get my reference. Truly. A daily practice and in every new experience, I work towards loving myself more and more.
Jake Shears’ line — “she doesn’t need a red carpet because she’s already got one” — is iconic. How did that playful quip evolve into a full-blown artistic philosophy?
It was last year on the reunion UK arena tour that the seed was planted. And then every night, hearing him say those words, it lit the match. All through our tour with Kesha and the last show we did, I surprised him during my intro and pulled out some fake red hair I cut off my wig. Met with total surprise and laughter. Goddess, I love a gag. And I thought I have to take this to the next level. Back home in NYC, hosting the burlesque club, that’s my other home called Duane Park, I started to hear this melody over one of the jam style covers we do. It’s such an empowering environment, the burlesque community and I always tap into my Queen energy there. Surrounded by amazingly strong and beautiful women, inside and out can do that to you. I built the first song ideas over a voice memo I made of us jamming one night, while “Sister to the Sun”, an aerialist was flying above the chandelier.
You recorded the track old‑school, one‑take‑to‑tape with The Brothers Nylon. How did that analog, retro process shape the swagger and soul of the final record?
It definitely tested all my perfectionism. We had a lot of fun figuring out what the song was. I had a built a demo track of it and sent to the brothers before we recorded and our other partner Alex Cherney who played and helped orchestrate the session. We jammed on it and together, found the arrangement and where it needed to grow, build and settle. And committed to that energy. One vocal take, no overdubs. We did do a bunch of post production but the bones were there from the beginning. It was really important for me to have an experience like this to be able to make it mostly about the performance, as if we were live. I find that to be where I am the most free, on stage so I wanted to create as close to that energy as possible.
You’ve toured with Scissor Sisters and now co‑front the band. What parts of that glitter‑drenched universe seep into your solo work, and what parts are distinctly Bridget?
I love my sisters so much and feel like we are very much aligned in the things we love or find funny or fierce. I think we are a theatrical band and we know it. And I love creating an inner story arc for our shows. I bring my sleazy New York chick vibes to it, cunty in the best way but also an empowering voice to uplift and shine a light on the Queer community or on anyone who isn’t being honored as a human spirit. I would say THAT part of me who cares about social justice, gets to really shine with them, the moments I get to connect to the audience and love on them. I live for that. Being able to step into this role with them has only enhanced in me, how much I want to not only entertain but be part of liberation.
You’ve shared stages with drag legends, burlesque icons, and queer performers who treat art as both spectacle and survival. How has that chosen family shaped your voice and your courage?
Honestly, to name a few names here because I must. People like Joey Arias, Sherry Vine, Raven Oh, Hattie Hathaway, to name a few drag icons. And the burlesque legends, Peekaboo Pointe, Perle Noire, The Main Attraction, Tigger and more! And my friends who I collaborate with like Dusty Childers, Bright light Bright light, Toni Nagy, Jack Fuller, Kate Rigg to name a few. These incredible people have shown me what it means to just BE the ART, to live it, to love it. To just do it and make it, if no one, but yourself and maybe those few friends who always have your back. But the intention of it being rooted in something real. I was raised with this idea of becoming famous in the TV, film and theatre world. All these kids I grew up with, became STARS. And I was always weighing myself against that. But finding performance art 15 years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because it showed me a world of creativity where I could express myself in the mess. Where I could tell stories and share songs, and create healing experiences through live performance, not only for myself, but together. And that I was more than an actress taking direction. More than a singer singing a tune. I was an overall creative being, with big ideas that needed to get out of my head.
You’ve spoken openly about rejection, heartbreak, and being unseen in the industry. What was the hardest “no” you ever received — and how did you alchemize it into fuel?
There have been so many NO’s that it’s hard to choose which one hurt the most. But I would say it has to be Hair, the musical. When I was 15 I got a part in a European tour of Hair, but I was too young. James Rado and Gerome Ragni, actually called my parents and asked if I would get emancipated so I could go. My dad, who was an actor and a musician said yes, but my mother said hell no. So I didn’t do it. And then every time I auditioned for it after that, including the Broadway revival. I didn’t get it. And the last audition broke me, I didn’t get out of bed for two days. I had to settle with the fact I may never get to do my favorite musical, ever. But over the years I have infused some of my work with inspiration from that musical and I have some very exciting future plans to honor my love of that show in an exciting way. So stay tuned. Making my own work has always saved me.
Ageism in entertainment is real, yet you flip it on its head with lines like “I ain’t no spring chicken, but I’m still finger‑lickin’ good.” What does radical self‑celebration look like for you now?
Even though I was just having a meltdown about my jowls last night and was looking into derma filler, I have not done any work on my face or anything, don’t knock anyone that has. I am just scared of needles and toxic shit. But I do struggle with getting older in this world of filters and youth idolatry. I think for me now, as a woman of a certain age, getting half-naked and feeling sexy and powerful because I work hard, take care of myself and have love and joy in my life is how I celebrate. Throwing on some pasties and tassel twirling in a thong in while singing a high note, sure feels good. That’s an external expression but the internal work of acceptance and forgiveness of the past is the most important. And, remembering what my mom always tells me: if you’re aging it just means you’re not dead yet, so that’s something to celebrate!
You’ve acted in everything from The Knick to Law & Order: SVU to Sherrybaby. How does your work as an actor inform the way you embody a song, a character, or a persona on stage?
Actually, I love how you worded that. Because I feel like I’m an actress of music. Each song in some way, represents a character within me, an aspect. I see the song like its own film. I usually see visuals and the mediums intertwine for me. This happens so often in my creative world, that I am currently building a show/album that has different musical characters, so that I can express these genres and energies in a specific way.
Your career has been a series of shapeshifts — genres, roles, aesthetics. What’s the thread of truth that has stayed constant through every transformation?
As a chameleon, I am always shedding, this is true. Under all the layers, I think I am simply just a creative kid at heart who wants to make the world a little bit better in any way that I can. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s dark in here. But if I can write a song, or make a video, or craft imagery, or movement or a character or a dance or a poem, anything really, that has come from my soul and someone else connects to it. Maybe it made them feel seen or made them laugh, or dance or cry or rejoice in living. I feel like all I want is that connection. The connection between self and other. Finding the reflection and the oneness.
“Red Carpet” feels like a love letter to the misfits, the gingers, the performers who build their own kingdoms. Who were the people that taught you how to walk into a room like you own it?
I mentioned previously about Dusty Childers. But to elaborate more fully. Besides my dad and my mom, truly, who both nurtured every creative aspect of myself. From dance classes to singing songs at the piano, to making up voices for all my stuffed animals. Or taking me to plays and musicals and ballet and art museums. They set me up for a creative life. But my art husband Dusty, picked up where they left off. We met in a very simple way, through a friend after a show I was in. And he just listened to every performance art dream I had and said let me help you do it. And he did. I had started to explore new mediums of performance and wanted to create a one woman show. He helped me through an incredible fear to really step into that power fully and we have been making performance art together now for over a decade. My Dusty, a beautiful bear of a lady-man who grew up gay in South Carolina moved to NYC to be their fullest self. And honey, she lives! There are a few other of my besties that are actually recorded on “Red Carpet” as background voices. Because I wanted to hold the energy of my community. Bright Light Bright Light, Del Marquis, Cazwell, Fataah Dihaan, Natti Vogel and many more Judy’s. But Dusty is featured at the end asking me, “Bridget, what are you wearing?” and I reply, “oh this old thing, it’s my heart on my sleeve.” And there’s a lot of metaphor there. I do always ask Dusty’s opinion on outfits, he helps with every show. And I also co-wrote a song with Babydaddy of Scissor Sisters in homage to him, called “Danger Heart.”
If “Red Carpet” is a spell for confidence, what do you hope listeners conjure in themselves the moment they hit play?
I think a healthy sense of ego and I repeat healthy is what i would want people to get a little buzz of. Healthy ego, allows someone to be their best selves. When you are truly full of…yourself, there is actual humility in it. People that are more insecure are the ones that use others to gain power, put others down to lift themselves up. SO my hope is that it could encourage more people to truly be full of themselves, a cup runneth over, be over-flowing in your own creative juices. So full, they need nothing from no one and don’t feel less than or depleted when they share their light. To believe you are truly a powerful being means you don’t need power over anyone else. When I am fully in myself, all I want to do is give. It’s a magic that keeps on giving. So I hope the medicine is that confidence first but knowing that the deeper layer is that the confidence and freedom not only comes from within first but it comes with your intentions in what you give back. Shimmy on.
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