Le Pustra On Cabaret and the Art of Reinvention

I want you to picture this: the glamour of 1920s Berlin, fancy clothes, a totally different era from which a mysterious figure drifts through the nightlife, embodying art and enigma. I bet you’re curious about who that might be, right? Our guest is not merely a performer, but a time-traveler. That’s why, ladies and gents, meet Le Pustra! And because I don’t want to spoil all the fun in the first lines, uncover their journey by reading this exclusive interview.

Hello, dear, and thank you so much for accepting my invitation! It’s a true honor. Since this may be your first encounter with the Romanian scene, could you tell us how it all began? How did the public react the first time you made yourself known?

You are very welcome. I originally studied Musical Theatre, though I wanted to become a film actor. But somehow I eventually fell into the underground cabaret scene in London and made my debut in 2006 as part of a comedy duo.

My character and style evolved over the following years, and I experimented with several incarnations of Le Pustra. Not many people know that I began my career with comedy, slapstick, and absurd humour, much to the audience’s delight. So yes, I’d say people were amused by my earlier work, as it was irreverent, unfiltered, and wonderfully wacky.

When it comes to makeup and clothing, you remind me of icons like Leigh Bowery and Klaus Nomi. What similarities exist between your work today and the LGBT avant-garde of the past in terms of broken glamour?

Let’s see… I certainly lack the cocky confidence of Leigh Bowery or the otherworldly vocal ability of Klaus Nomi, but I feel deeply drawn to these two extraordinary artists. What we share is that we all started out feeling somewhat alienated from our environments and found an urgent need to express ourselves creatively.

Another connection is that Klaus, Leigh, and I each relocated to new cities to escape our conservative upbringings and reinvent ourselves by creating striking, sometimes flamboyantly weird, stage personas (if I may include myself). We used whatever we had at our disposal, and I think it’s fair to say we all share a strong appreciation for aesthetics and presentation.

Artists like Klaus and Leigh didn’t concern themselves much with labels and approval, and I share that sentiment. We simply are, and we simply create. End of.

Oh, and for anyone interested, I’m giving an online talk on 16 February 2026 about creating an alter ego for the stage. I’ll be discussing Klaus, Leigh, the Blitz Kids, and the ’90s Club Kids era. The talk is called “Glitter, Guts and Glam: The Creatures of the Night!”

Your stage persona moves between tuxedo-sharp silhouettes, Weimar cabaret decadence, and carnival-like looks. How do you choose which “skin” to wear for a particular performance?

The last ten years, the Berlin years, have been dedicated almost exclusively to the 1920s/1930s aesthetic, which I adapted into my own personal style. And yes, I do love a tuxedo; it’s timeless.

Before relocating to Berlin, I was more experimental, influenced by circus, Goth glam, and ’80s visuals. I’ve always loved the process of transforming, especially in the earlier performing years. Sometimes choosing what to wear is a split-second decision, and other times I’ll obsess for days over what might look right. I like to mix it up, though my style is quite tame compared to the likes of Leigh Bowery, for example.

I’m particularly drawn to the Blitz Kids era and the New Romantic style of the late 1970s and early 1980s. I love the drama, and they wore fabulous hats and makeup. Between 2010 and 2011, I attended a club night called The Face in Soho, London, and we were dubbed the “Neo-Romantics,” though the club was sadly short-lived. I did get to meet Adam Ant and Steve Strange. I attended with my late friend, Sheri Conklin, and we absolutely loved it.

Looking back, I felt truly at home being part of The Face. It was a brief year of wonderful creativity and artistic freedom, and my Klaus Nomi-inspired act originated there. Steve Strange once wrote to me:

“OMG, I heard you were fantastic, and Adam Ant loved you.”

You managed to resurrect Weimar cabaret through a modern lens. How do you balance historical authenticity with your own creative voice?

Oh, thank you! The Kabarett der Namenlosen project in Berlin was, creatively and professionally, my most successful endeavour to date. I’ve always had a DIY approach to art, and with this project, I wanted to give everything, really understanding the political, economic, and social background of the era. I aimed for authenticity that still felt relatable to modern audiences.

Of course, I had to use my imagination to dream up a smoky cabaret filled with gorgeous creatures, melancholic music, and naked flesh, which was not a problem for me. Attention to detail was key, and the project was, and still is, very sacred to me. I’m incredibly proud of that show. We still talk about it to this day.

So in the end, we created something very special and memorable, something that feels as though it could live on as part of the echoes of history. And it will. The 1920s remain a beloved era for many of us, perhaps because of the nostalgia, the perceived freedom, and the exuberance associated with it.

What can you tell us about ‘Babylon Berlin’ and Edwina’s appearance in the series?

Ooh, of course! I play a mysterious crossdresser named Edwina Morell. We don’t learn much about Edwina’s personal life, but she drifts through Berlin nightlife, and I imagine she has many fingers in many pies.

In Season 3, Edwina takes part in a bizarre role-play orgy at the fictitious Luxor nightclub. Chain-smoking and flame-haired, she reads a script involving WWI soldiers and the heroine, Charlotte, in a strange, fantasy gangbang on a rotating stage. The actors all wore strap-on dicks, but I think they edited that all out. I do remember the (very hot) actors, in the uniforms, sitting down for lunch still wearing the fake dicks. It’s in the details, darlings.

In Season 4, Edwina reappears as the host of the ‘Kabarett der Namenlosen’, set in the Moka Efti nightclub. This scene was more reminiscent of the original notorious cabaret created by Erich Lowinsky and had a delightfully freak-show vibe. There was yodelling, a gigantic hand, and a spectacular fight sequence. I wore a green sequin ensemble, resembling either a Leprechaun or the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. Green became Edwina’s signature colour, even though it’s considered unlucky onstage.

AND OH, this green sequin ensemble was sold to a costume company in London, and they refuse to sell it back to me!

We recently completed filming the fifth (and final) season of ‘Babylon Berlin’, where Edwina makes her last appearance. It was a joy to be part of such a stunning, award-winning series. It’s excellent television, and if you’re interested in the Weimar era, I highly recommend it.

How does it feel when the stage lights hit you? What part of performing feels the most human to you? What do you hope people remember about Le Pustra after the show is over?

It really varies. It used to be exhilarating, but often now it’s sheer terror. I’ve been struggling with severe stage fright since 2018, and sadly, it’s gotten worse to the point that I’m stepping away from the stage next year and focusing on writing or perhaps directing.

The most human part of performing, in my opinion, is fucking up, or breaking character during a performance. An unexpected moment can shatter the tension and earn the audience’s support. They relate to you more in that moment when your humanity is revealed, if that makes sense? At least in my own experience. It is, of course, mortifying, but can also be quite moving (emotionally) as well.

I don’t know if people will remember Le Pustra in years to come, who can say – but I would love to be remembered in art or as art. I’ve been lucky to be immortalised in various artworks and drawings over the years, and I try to collect as many of them as I can.

If you could talk to your younger self, what would you say?

Oh my… where to even begin?

I would first give my younger self an assuring hug. Then I would tell him to prepare for a rollercoaster of triumphs, extreme lows, and countless failures. It’s going to get very tough, and you will want to give up. Don’t feel ashamed to let go. Let. go.

Don’t be so scared to speak up. Trying to please everyone is pointless, and not everyone will be your friend. Some people will hurt you terribly and take advantage of your heart, but don’t lose faith; many wonderful people will also support you and show you kindness. You have many Guardian Angels looking out for you.

Finally, go to fucken therapy earlier; don’t ignore your mental health. And smile more. I don’t smile enough, or so I’m told.

Before saying goodbye, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart for being part of the CVLTARTES story. If you could perform in an imaginary setting, an abandoned circus tent, a dreamlike cabaret run by ghosts, or a haunted burlesque hall, which would you choose?

My pleasure! Oh, all three options sound just delightful. I’ve actually performed in a circus tent in Amsterdam, a dreamlike cabaret in Berlin, and a gorgeous ballroom in London. Can’t confirm if the latter was haunted, though… One can only hope.