How many clowns can you fit inside a clown car? At Brooklyn’s 3 Dollar Bill, Clown Cult answered. At least 30, crammed into a single bill, spilling past the stage, and still, this was not enough. Their second annual Clown Car event nearly doubled last year’s roster and drew a sold-out crowd of 204. By the time the show ran an hour over schedule, the audience was still cheering for more.
The night began with host and Clown Cult founder Chuckie Sleaze dressed as a mechanic clown and operating under an alter ego named Charles. Her sonorous introduction commanded the room’s attention as she stepped on a stage wide enough to fit a chorus, with colored lights dancing through the smoke machine and reflecting upon a backdrop of freshly pumped balloons. Wearing dark blue coveralls and matching cap atop her yellow mullet– and a tool belt with objects hanging off like big white linked chains and a rubber chicken– she announced the Collective’s five C credo: Consent, cheering, cash, confetti, and clowns. Also in her hand was a notepad that she held through the entire evening, using it to help guide her.
Confetti is a form of currency at Clown Cult. Fistfuls were thrust into the air, raining on the crowd and celebrating acts carried out by clowns that ranged from seasoned pros to first-time performers. One performer sneezed green snot that turned into long balloons; another performed a slow, soulful ballad. There were dominatrix clowns, puppy clowns, angry clowns, jubilant clowns, dead clowns, and a Cupid clown.
Among them were graduates from the Coney Island Clown Skool, who had completed their eight-day intensive just that morning. Sir Cuss was among the graduates. He stayed still dressed in his graduation outfit from that morning: in rainbow-striped tights, polka dots, a droopy jester hat adorned with bells, and a multicolored ruffled collar.
“This was one of my favorite Clown Cults ever,” said Sir Cuss, a frequent Clown Cult member and founder of Draw a Clown, an event where participants sketch live clown models. He took the stage alongside Lady Sour Sprout for a silent clown comedy skit. Their performance was a textbook example of the Auguste clown archetype that leans into bad balance and timing. “It’s just so beautiful to be in a room of friends and a supportive community, putting on a show to celebrate what we’ve built together,” said Cuss. Their routine served up the quintessential circus scenario, but still, weirder whims awaited.
Sleaze described the growth as intentional and ambitious. “We originally planned 20 acts, but when we got the applications, it was so hard to choose! We got it down to 30 and just couldn’t go any further. Last year we had 16; this year we nearly doubled. Moving to a real club like 3 Dollar Bill has expanded our creative capabilities—full lighting, bigger stage, smoke machines, DJ, and more—everything shines!”
The production itself was a feat of precision, coordinated by a team of 15 handling sound cues, stage setup, concessions, balloons, and confetti. Cochina Divina, a draglesque performer, clown, stage kitten, and prop maker, has been with Clown Cult for several years. “This most recent Clown Cult was super special. The average has about eight active stage shows—this had nearly four times as many,” said Divina. As a kitten, Divina oversees what’s happening onstage, akin to a stagehand but without the need to disappear into the background.
With so many moving parts, keeping a show like this on track takes a focused conductor. Divina did more than circle the crowd waving their tip bucket—they husteled all night ensuring smooth transitions between acts. As Sleaze entertained the audience between performances, Divina was prepping the stage and trouble shooting potential hazards.
Their skills were tested during a notoriously messy “cake sitting” act. A dancer dropped onto a real cake, sending sticky, gooey icing flying across the stage—much of it missing the plastic tarp Divina and their fellow kitten Humanette had carefully laid down. Audience members rushed forward for finger scoops of frosting, while Divina coordinated the cleanup. “Kittens cannot panic. You just have to fix it,” she said. Even as the stage became slick and treacherous with oil-laden icing, Divina guided the next acts, accommodated the commotion, and kept the energy playful, ensuring the show wouldn’t be derailed. Even as the acts careened from one aesthetic to the next, smooth it was.
Clown Cult is known for its adult-themed “smut clowns,” and the night did not shy away. Erotic skits—simulated masturbation, clown-on-clown sex, and playful subversion of sexual norms—shared the stage with classic mime, puppetry, comedy, and even displays of brute strength. One performer bent a steel pipe and cooking pan with his bare hands. Some acts took direct aim at systems of power. Artist Lola Strange skewered corporate work culture in a performance that saw her staple “I quit” onto her body, turning resignation into a darkly comic and absurd visual gag.
“My act is a FU to capitalism and the insatiable machine,” explained Strange. The act was based on Strange’s own experience of quitting the corporate world and throwing herself into art full time. “Live performance art like this is magic. To alchemize stress and trauma and turn it into joy helps us express instead of repress that bit of madness.”
That spirit of unbridled release echoed through Poison Clover’s time in the spotlight. Clover, a tall, modelesque drag clown, delivered a riotous performance that electrified the room. He thrashed across the stage and into the crowd as “Indy Kidz” by Cage the Elephant blasted through the speakers, their long, fiery hair whipping behind her. Dressed in a baby doll dress and stockings, they filled the space with a visceral display of feminine rage. “It’s vulnerable staring people in the eyes with so many eyes staring back at you—but after the nerves died down it was so energizing. No other medium has given me the freedom that drag has,” said Clover.
Comedy was as central to the night as drag and sex appeal. Miles Calderon, performing as Mr. Cardboard, a vaudeville-inspired character whose wide-set overalls act as a bottomless pit of props, emphasized physical humor. “As someone who would say that they’re in the New York clown scene, this is kind of a separate scene,” Calderon said, noting his training at the École Philippe Gaulier in France and his background in comedy theater. “This was my first full-on drag clown show,” he added. “I was a little hesitant at first—it felt very sex-forward—but the audience and space were incredible. Bringing clown to a crowd that was really open to something weird was just so much fun.”
Live music added another dimension to the already versatile setlist. Singer-songwriter Sky Matthews, dressed as if bathed in a rainbow, took the stage with a neon-painted acoustic guitar, embodying the androgynous glam of David Bowie as he performed beneath swirling fuchsia lights. “This was my first time performing for Clown Cult. They’ve helped me find community and given me a space where I can express myself genuinely and unapologetically,” said Matthews, who performed his original song ‘The Fool’. “This was a full circle experience for me, getting to give back to a community that’s given me so much.”
That sense of mutual respect was evident in the rhythm of the night. As each act stepped offstage, they often slipped into the audience, eagerly cheering on the next performer. Despite the packed lineup, performers were notably mindful of their time, careful not to overrun and cut into someone else’s set. The night emphasized Clown Cult’s queer and community-focused ethos. Sleaze prioritized BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ performers when selecting acts, ensuring representation and creative diversity. “Clown is an umbrella for so many styles and expressions,” she said.
Community extended beyond performance. A portion of proceeds from Clown Car went to the New York Immigration Coalition, “We chose the NYIC because of the growing presence and violence of ICE in our community and nationwide,” said Sleaze. A representative of the organization even came on stage to speak. Sleaze recounted the moment: “When we announced our fundraiser for the NYIC, I got a DM from Indira. She asked if there was a way to help during the show, and she joined us on stage. This resulted in the most beautiful chorus I’ve ever heard—a sea of clowns chanting ‘FUCK ICE!’”—a moment of unity advocacy, piercing the illusion that this world of clowning is all mere play.
Vendors were present in the wide bar area outside of the stage room, selling jewelry like gauges, stones, spikes, and skulls. There were also tarot readings, a photo booth, and a concession stand featuring freshly popped popcorn, rubber chickens, red foam noses, and confetti all organized in carnival-style pop-corn containers. Among the legacy clowns and Clown Cult regulars was a trio of first-timers whose faces were expertly painted in clown —Charlotte, Sarah, and Bella, from Long Island —who discovered the show via Instagram. “I’m obsessed—it’s unlike anything I’ve seen,” Charlotte said.
Every act, whether raunchy or restrained, contributed to the sense of a living, breathing, thriving clown ecosystem that channels several more C’s: Creativity, collaboration, camaraderie, and catharsis.
Feature photo by Cassidy Jones.
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