Glitter and mud icons

Do you remember Bernardo Cortés? Yes, that gaunt man, with prominent ears and nose, who used to sing and play the guitar in the bars and restaurants of Barceloneta; a singer-songwriter and poet of the people who, in the nineties, made the leap to television and, for better or worse, the imitator Oriol Grau contributed to popularizing him as Palomino. However, behind that caricaturesque or caricatured character, there was a man of culture who had published books and recorded albums, "the poet of Barceloneta". Bernardo Cortés died in 2017 and, for a few days now, a plaque installed by the City Council at number 49 Pescadors street in Barcelona's fishing district, where he lived for so many years, commemorates him as a tribute.

I am writing this article precisely on the day that marks five years since the death of another fundamental character of this popular, humble, street, neighborhood, often, red-light district Barcelonian culture: Carmen de Mairena. The artist was already a very famous cupletista in the transvestite circles of Raval when Força Barça and, above all, Crónicas Marcianas turned her into another star of the friki starsystem of that irreverent and equally inclement television of three decades ago, in exchange for reducing her to a grotesque character, to a subject of scorn and meme.

Carmen spent her last years in a residence on Aragó street and it is said that only five people attended her funeral. As in the case of Bernardo Cortés, despite the widespread oblivion, there have also been people who have cared about reclaiming the legacy of Carmen de Mairena. Last year, illustrator Carlota Juncosa published a very beautiful book with Blackie Books: Carmen de Mairena. A biography, with a prologue by Javier Pérez Andújar. A few years earlier, Bob Pop and Santi Villas also dedicated a beautiful podcast to her that reviews her life and her status as an LGBT reference, Carmen de Mairena. A thrilling life, from behind and from ahead.

Bernardo Cortés, Carmen de Mairena and Mónica, Mónica del Raval, the queen of Raval. Last September, Mónica del Raval died at just over sixty years old, perhaps the last great icon of this humble, extravagant, original, fighter, rogue Barcelona... A Barcelona with its head in the clouds ---makeup, dye and glitter, pure fantasy--- and its feet in the mud ---poverty, sordidness, marginalization---. A few years ago, director Francesc Betriu dedicated a magnificent film to her, Mónica del Raval, a feature film between documentary and fiction ---a borderland where, in fact, most of these exceptional characters live---, and which also turned her into a television star.

Her media fame was perhaps fleeting and Mónica soon had to go back to earning a living selling calendars in the usual Raval venues, until she fell ill and died. Mónica's remains were deposited in a charity niche, although some unconditional fans immediately launched a campaign to raise money and pay her the posthumous tribute she deserves. An initiative promoted by Ravalada Drag Tour is also underway to ask the City Council for the square on Hort de la Bomba street to be renamed Mónica del Raval and for a statue to be installed in this space in honor of the last queen of the neighborhood. All this, to prevent the memory of this character from also disappearing from the streets and bars she frequented.

It is very good to build iconic buildings, open starred restaurants to celebrate our cuisine and dedicate streets and museums to illustrious Barcelonians, but if Barcelona wants to preserve its character, it would do well to also preserve the memory of these unique and unrepeatable popular characters who precisely contribute to making the city unique and unrepeatable.