Gypsy Rose Lee...Where Are You?

The new world of burlesque seems to be an all encompassing one. You needn’t be young, slim, fit, have rhythm or dancing ability to get onstage, just the willingness to strip down to your g-string and pasties in front of a group of strangers. How one gets to that g-string and pasties seems to be entirely up to the performer. Bewilderingly so.

I attended my first burlesque show last month. I had heard murmurs of a revival of old school burlesque going on, a bit of a backlash to the pornographic world of stripping that has been around for a while been so I thought, what the hell, why not go have a look?  Two nights of burlesque entertainment were offered, the international stars or the homegrown beginners. Hhmm.  I debated about a second and went for the experienced group. There seemed no need to take a chance on ending up watching a neighbour or daughter of a friend shakin’ their money maker.  My husband and I showed up a bit early and watched the audience arrive. The crowd was playing its part, lots of naughty outfits, tattoos, green and blue hair, darling little fascinators perched on heads, the occasional really racy get up, all good fun. Then the curtain went up.

You want to be a kitty and scratch the furniture and sit in a litter box, go for it! How about a cowgirl with her lasso, a dominatrix with her black leathers, a princess in a sequined ball gown or maybe you just want to do a few push ups and splits in a g-string. The stage is yours.   The parade of entertainment was….confusing.  Some performers just strode about without regard for the beat of the music doffing clothes, others worked out elaborate scenarios with large props, a few even danced!  Young, old, firm, soft, big bellied, small breasted, it didn’t matter.  The common denominator seemed to be enthusiasm.  I had to remind myself that these were the “international stars”, winners of contests, well known in the burlesque community. It felt much more like watching a group of suburban moms who had decided to put on a show.  Maybe a fundraiser for the school.   “Hey, instead of a bake sale let’s all strip! It’ll be fun!!”

Just before the intermission the MC’s came on and launched into a rapturous ode to the next performer. We were going to get to see the one and only First Lady of Burlesque…..April March! The crowd went wild.  April March sashayed on stage, as quickly as an eighty year old can sashay. Yup, eighty, she told us that herself.  She was strapped into a bulletproof corset, heavy denier pantyhose and modest heeled shoes.  As she sauntered around the stage, dipping one shoulder then the other, blowing kisses and lip syncing the words to the song playing that had been written about her, I was silently begging the powers that be that no article of her clothing was going to be removed.  Please, please.  My prayer was answered. 

After a standing ovation for April and her dedication to the art of burlesque, the curtain came down for intermission. My husband looked at me and said, “I’m done”. We left the theatre but I exited with the exciting new knowledge that there was still room for me in the entertainment business if I ever felt the urge.  Where does one buy those glue on tassels?