The transparent dressing gown with black feathers that she takes off the hanger is the perfect piece for the main photo. To start the conversation. With it, a host of memories come out of the wardrobe that transport (us) to 50 years of life linked to the transformation of "one of the best known people in the city". For some, the best known. For others, the only one who still retains an artistic vein that has been lost with the new generations.

Fernando Soares is 75 years old, retired from a life as a metalworker after years of hard labour, which he is proud to say he never missed. He became an exemplary worker by day, without a blemish on his professional record. At the same time, he became an iconic figure at night.

He created the (multi)character Nany Petrova in the mid-1970s, when time seemed to have everything against it: he was coming out of compulsory military service, in a still perilous post-April Revolution period, he came out about his homosexuality, which led to his subsequent expulsion from home by an austere father who couldn't imagine that his son could be "a nonce".

And as if that wasn't enough, he still harbours memories of the unparalleled beating he took and the suitcases waiting for him at the door on his arrival from the war. There was no sign of his father, and it was clear that there was no longer any place for Fernando there. It was as if he had been orphaned at that moment. Because having a son who kissed a man, "a faggot", was too "shameful" for a conservative family.

Fernando fell onto the streets during a complicated period, not knowing what to do. He was already working, but he was paid by the week, and during this time, while he couldn't find a room, he made the street his bed and home.

"I won the competition and the prize was to perform for 15 days in a nightclub." It was here, with friends, through a group they called Star Show, that my journey began. From then on, there wasn't a nightclub or bar, more or less recommended, more or less (well) frequented, that he didn't pass through.

Every night, the metallurgist by day unfolded into dozens of characters by night. From Carmen Miranda (with fruit on her head and decorated lyrics) to Fafá de Belém, from the drug addict who delighted the audience to figures with "cages on their heads". Nany Petrova created a cult around herself.

Her father never knew what she was doing. Her mother, faced with curiosity and interest in attending, was told that tickets "were very expensive". "And that's a good thing, because if I saw my mum in the audience, I think I'd give up," she confesses.

From figures of reference to humour on stage

Nany Petrova is part of a genre of characters that has fallen into disuse, which has been consumed by the desire of younger transformers to look like "beautiful women", instead of creating a show with content, humour and fun. She misses a time when transformism was seen in a more artistic light, where there was more mutual support, because today, she admits, "they all talk badly about each other".

She is one of the few still active who takes on a more comical character. She doesn't create characters to sing the artists of today, "because I can only speak Portuguese and a little Spanish", but she does create stories where humour is always present. "And to see the audience smiling, laughing, is to have the audience with us every night. People are fed up with politics and just want a moment to have fun," he says.

From pioneering work to withdrawing from shows

Today he's not afraid to speak his mind. Age and experience allow him to do so. The respect she has earned. "If I see someone wearing a terrible dress, I say so. If I don't like the show, I say so. But I say it at the time and forget about it afterwards. I've never been spiteful or vindictive," he admits.

"One of these days one of them bought some slippers and I said to her: 'they're nice, but your toenails look like Benfica's eagles'". He laughs again, between another cigarette. It's his way of being, without fear of what others think.

He doesn't hide the fact that he soon plans to retire, to make his shows more and more sporadic. He's no longer old enough to continue performing late into the night. But he knows that "whenever he feels the bug, he'll be there".

Because the houses in town don't close their doors to her. Because Nany was a pioneer in making these houses places of regular attendance, making them less marginalised, less ostracised. Giving them an artistic character.

Perhaps because of this, because she is the most respected of them all, she will open the Precárias Festival at the Rivoli Theatre on Saturday 6 April. Starting at 9pm, the Foyer of the Grand Auditorium will present two numbers by the artist, in an initiative curated by Tita Maravilha, which will feature a series of performances by artists who feel marginalised in some way - either because of their gender or because of the themes they address.

Nany Petrova has already prepared everything and knows what she's going to perform. "Maybe two songs by Ágata," the muse who is still her favourite today. And despite the themes she will present, we know that she will never be "alone".