On weekdays in Manila, Al Enriquez, 86, pushes a rickety wooden cart with a rainbow umbrella perched on the dilapidated wood.
He sells candies and cigarettes outside of a bustling commuter supermarket, where the occasional smoker or a child with a few coins stops by to make a purchase.
In these dense, chaotic streets, Mr. Enriquez — swallowed by a T-shirt and basketball shorts hanging loosely on his small, aging body — is often overlooked by the crowd.
On weekends, though, he goes by the stage name Carmen de la Rue and is transformed into a Manila showgirl, donning floor length dresses, elaborate makeup, high heels and wigs.