1. Robe Mango en tulle et satin, achetée en soldes il y a deux ou trois ans, et à laquelle j'avais rajoutée un volant. Je l'ai retroussée sur les cuisses à l'aide de deux épingles à nourrice, dont l'une est camouflée sous une broche-fleur trouvée à Bruxelles. 2. Corset : un basique underbust noir, qui transforme instantanément n'importe quelle tenue. 3. Trois colliers de perles Pimkie, 5 à 7 euros pièce si je me souviens bien. 4. Longs gants en peau anciens, achetés sur un marché aux puces à Bruxelles - mais n'importe quelle paire de gants longs en satin achetés chez C&A ou Tati Mariage aurait fait l'affaire. 5. Bas Monoprix à 3 euros. Le porte-jaretelles qui les tient est un peu plus cher, mais c'est un basique absolu de chez What Katie Did. 6. Chaussures France Arno achetées en soldes l'hiver dernier (après que je les aies convoitées toute la saison). En plus, elles sont ultra confortables : ce sont les chaussures que je porte pour le cours. 7. Pince fleur H&M. Et un peu plus bas, surcharge de maquillage. Mais pas de faux cils (H&M aussi), je suis infichue d'arriver à les mettre, et ce n'est pourtant pas faute d'avoir essayé.

Et je peux vous dire que même emmitouflées dans leurs manteaux, quatre petites danseuses burlesques qui ne laissaient pourtant dépasser que leurs têtes et leurs jambes, ça ne passe pas inaperçu quand ça attend à la sortie du métro !

If you don't, I'm going to scan all the drawings, post them here, and tell everyone I did them.  Oh yes, I'm that guy.

There'll be an official update when we get the photos, but goodness, a ton of people showed up last night, so much that we started having to turn people away.  Boy, we hit that point a lot faster than we thought we would.  Next session, we're going to remove about half the tables and replace them with more chairs so things aren't quite so packed.  So consider yourself forewarned, if you want a table or a good seat, make sure to show up early.

Sable was amazing by the way....as were the sketches done for the Atomic Books prizes.   We'll throw up a proper recap when those photos roll in, but, until then, just know that things were pretty amazing.

And yes, the final contest was "How would Sable capture a bike thief?"  Definitely scan and send those in....they deserve a whole post in of themselves. :)

Next session is Oct 27, Monday, 7 - 10, btw.

The idea I came up with was Burlesque for Breast Cancer.

Burlesque Against Breast Cancer was created to raise money for Macmillan who provide practical, medical, emotional and financial support for people with cancer, and push for better cancer care. It comprises:

FRIDAY OCTOBER 3RDThe Burlesque Against Breast Cancer Picture ShowOooLaLaLate night screening of Moulin Rouge at the Duke of York’s Picture House, Brighton, with drinks reception, can-can girls and glamorous treats. Tickets: £7 stalls, £10 balcony, available from www.picturehouses.co.uk

THURSDAY NOVEMBER 6TH:The Burlesque Against Breast Cancer Ball in association with http://www.Onjoy.com (The one stop shop for what's hot and what's not in the world of erotica) 6pm - 11pm

A sumptuous ball at the Old Market, Hove. Top burlesque and cabaret performers, in association with the Ministry of Burlesque, plus cocktails, table magic, burlesque make-overs, music, charity auction and more. Prizes include a caviar tasting, exclusive artwork, a body casting session and designer goods.

Tickets: £50 (tables of six and ten available). All attendees who buy six or more tickets will receive a luxury goodie bag and tickets to the after-show party. Available from www.burlesqueabc.com

ULTIMATE BURLESQUE:

Edited by Alyson Fixter and Emily Dubberley, £7.99, Xcite Books, www.xcitebooks.com Pre-order your copy at http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ultimate-Burlesque-Emily-Dubberley/dp/1906373639

Erotic short stories with a burlesque twist introduced by Chris Manby and featuring writers including Katie Fforde, Jo Rees, Olivia Darling, Nikki Magennis, Maxim Jakubowski, Kristina Lloyd and Lauren Wissot.

Meet the writers at exclusive reading events across the UK.

26th SEPTEMBER:Ultimate Burlesque Author event,The Marlborough Theatre, Princes Street, Brighton, BN2 (Entry 6 Pounds, all funds go to charity) 8pm, with Mark Farley and Kristina Lloyd http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=32242236163

2ND OCTOBER: Ultimate Burlesque Author event, The Big Green Bookshop, Wood Green, featuring Richard Bardsley, Maxim Jakubowski, Mark Farley, Sarah Berry and Carmen Ali http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=27401121021

9TH OCTOBER: Ultimate Burlesque Author event, Notting Hill Waterstones, featuring Katie Fforde, Mark Farley, Christiana Spens, Alyson Fixter and Emily Dubberley with a burlesque performance from the fabulous Ophelia Bitzhttp://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=28404965675&ref=ts

12th OCTOBER:Ultimate Burlesque Author event,The London Fetish Fair, Shillibeers, Caledonian Road, Islington N7. Entry 5 pounds. (Fair 12-6, BABC from 3.30 with Mark Farley, Sarah Berry and ) http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=23404688157

16th OCTOBER:Ultimate Burlesque Author event,The Vibe Bar @ The Truman Brewery, 91 Brick Lane, London E1 (8pm, with Christiana Spens, Mark Farley, Alcamia and Sarah Berry) Entry 7 pounds & 5 pounds NUS/Conc. http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=22819034670

17th OCTOBER: Ultimate Burlesque Author event,The Dogstar, 389 Coldharbour Lane, Brixton SW9 (8pm, with Olivia Darling, Mat Fraser and Mark Farley) Entry 5 pounds/NUS and concs pay what you like http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=40747621072

30TH OCTOBER:Ultimate Burlesque Author event, Brighton Waterstones featuring Emily Dubberley, Carmel Lockyear, Kristina Lloyd and Richard Bardsleyhttp://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=64067400514

1ST NOVEMBER: Ultimate Burlesque Author event The Loft, Leeds, as part of Leeds Erotica Festival (LeedsErotica.org.uk) featuring Alyson Fixter, Mark Farley, Miranda Forbes and Claire Worldley. Plus performances by Anna Fur Laxis, The Boneshakers and Beatrix Boom! http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=36150649736

For more details, tickets and the latest information on regional events see www.BurlesqueABC.com

We're trying to promote the event as much as possible to ensure coverage in the national press, particularly men’s and women’s magazines - and also to organise the best possible event. We will be promoting these events Nationwide...Which is where you come in. We're looking for people to donate their time, skills and assets to help create the event. In particular, we need:

*For the BookBook reviewers to write nice things about it (release date is October) Celebs to give quotes for the back of the book

Contact Alyson Fixter or Emily Dubberley through this group

*For the Cinema Screening:

Burlesque beauties and can can girls to shimmy and do walkabout & promenade acts. Local press to promote the eventDrinks sponsors for cocktails

*For the Burlesque Against Breast Cancer Ball:

Burlesque performers and cabaret starsDJs and musiciansHostessesCelebrity attendeesCash sponsors (magazines, drinks companies, toy companies or anyone else looking to build a glamorous, caring brand)Media partners (TV, radio, tabloid, broadsheet, magazine, web and mobile)Venue partners (for the event and potential after show party)Hotel partners (for performer accommodation and charity auction prizes - see below)Alcohol sponsors (for both the event and the goodie bags)Food sponsors (luxury canapés, ideally)Tech sponsors (sound and lighting hardware and crew)Fireworks and generally fab things to add an extra frisson to the event

*If you have ideas on how you would like to or could get involved with this cause please do get in touch...

*One of the ideas for part of the night is to find some women who’ve had mastectomies, get them trained by a top burlesque/striptease performer and then have them perform at the event, to prove that breast cancer doesn’t have to destroy your femininity and sexuality. For this we’ll need:

-Women who’ve had mastectomies and would be prepared to learn how to do a burlesque/striptease performance-Striptease/burlesque teachers to train the women, either on a group or one to one basis-Practice space-Costume providers, including tassels, corsets, fascinators, hosiery, shoes and anything else fabulously glamorous-Make up artists-Stylists-Hairdressers

*There will also be a charity auction. For this we’ll need:

-Celebrity prizes (signed memorobilia or photos or, better, meet and greets; authors who will agree to name a character in one of their books after an auction winner; chances to win a part in a film)-Experience prizes (eg, nights at luxury hotels, meals at exclusive restaurant, exotic holidays, burlesque training classes/performances, fascinator making classes, track days - anything luxurious and aspirational)-Product prizes (signed books, designer toys, nipple tassels, lingerie, luxury candles, corsets worn in celeb events, erotic art, beauty products, spa weekends)-Show, event and gig tickets, ideally VIP-Any other quality products with the potential to raise major funds from the auction.

I will be doing the marketing (I spent seven years working in marketing before becoming a journalist) but would welcome assistance in:

-Marketing (I’m not precious. I have an overview plan but all help is gratefully received)-PR-Flyer distribution-Promotional film making-Viral marketing including game design

Printer and ticketing partners would also be welcomed.

And if any journalists can sell in preview stories to nationals about the event (ideally but not essentially donating their fee to the cause) that would also be great, as would any TV crew looking to film the event (ideally paying TV rights that will also be donated to the cause).

And finally there will be 300 goodie bags - one for each guest. For this I’ll need

-Lingerie-Vouchers for free burlesque/pole dancing classes-Champagne or spirit miniatures-Soft drinks & sweets-Sex toys-Sensual accessories (blindfolds, erotic games, aromatherapy oils, candles etc)-Erotic books and audio tapes-Lube & condoms-Tassels, garters etc-Any other sexy or sensual items

Even if you can’t spare 300 samples, providing as many as you can will do - we can always have ‘mix and match’ goodie bags with a range of different items. If you can only offer one item but it’s high value (for example, a weekend in a luxury hotel, a diamond studded designer toy, a day on a yacht) this can still help, as we can use it as a ‘golden ticket’ item in one of the bags - always a good way to generate a buzz, not to mention publicise whichever company donates said item.

Yes, all this is a lot to ask but in return, anyone who helps will get a mention in the promotional material, exposure to at least 100 journalists and a chance to show off your talents to a connected group of 300 people. Talk about a good way to land more work…

More to the point, it’s a great cause and in one night, we could potentially raise £25,000 for cancer charities before we even take the book and cinema screening and auction, into account (which could raise tens of thousands of pounds if people are generous with their donations. And you’ve been sent this because I know you’re the kind of person who is.)

Feel free to pass this on to anyone or everyone who could help. In one day, you could help other people get through cancer treatment or deal with the news that it’s terminal. It’s a hideous disease and I want to do as much as I can to make things better. I’d love it if you do too.

Profits go to Macmillan, registered charity number 261017

http://www.burlesqueabc.com

PIN UP LINGERIE  LINGERIE VERY SEXY LONG SLEEVED TEDDY WITH OPAQUE LACE UPS AND MATCHING STOCKINGS

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Photography by Janet Beller.

I started this Sunday by walking through the shops of London, mainly window shopping. I managed to score a new shoulder bag at only 12 pounds on a 50% sale, Yes! So I was starting at Oxford Street, as I so often do, and I made my way along Charing Cross and towards Covent Garden. Close by Waterloo Bridge I had lunch at an old pub. What caught my attention were the 7 pound Sunday Roast lunches they had on. I ordered a Garlic and Thyme, Lemon Lamb Roast with baked potato, baked sweet potato, gravy, and baby carrots. The meal was amazing! Best roast I can ever recall having. The service was absolutely terrible, ended up walking out and just leaving money on the table because I never received the bill... but the food... the food was amazing!

After lunch I walked around the corner to Covent Garden. There is so much happening here with buskers, street performers, markets, and the Royal Opera House. An inspirational place that is so alive! At Jubilee Hall there are amazing little arts and crafts in every little market stall, and on a beautiful day like this people are sitting on the sidewalks soaking up the sun and working on their tans. I admit I spent half the day at Covent Garden, walking through markets, sunbaking, having a glass of wine on the balcony overlooking the Covent Garden streets, sunbaking some more, watching street performers, sunbaking, people watching, and sunbaking!

When the evening arrived I walked towards Leicester Square to watch a show at the Hippodrome. The show is called La Clique and is a bit of a burlesque, cabaret, circus extravaganza. If you are currently in London or planning on going to London this year, then THIS IS A SHOW YOU CANNOT MISS!!! I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much from a show. It is setup like a circus tent with the performances in the middle of the room, on a tiny circular stage. The stage isn’t even two meters in diameter which makes for a very intimate evening... and oh yes it gets very intimate with the performers as I experienced firsthand. If you get tickets for the floor area it is first come first served so I encourage you to rock up half an hour before the performance starts to get front row seats as it is well worth it.

Obviously I don’t want to spoil the experience so I will only give a brief summary of what you can expect. Two gentlemen assisting puppets who are cabaret divas, a double jointed rubber man, English gentlemen acrobats, a sexy Spanish magician burlesque style striptease, aerial ballet, juggling Freddie Mercury, a mysteriously seductive hula hooping Ukrainian and a sword swallowing mistress of ceremonies in a red dress. The entire show was enthralling; I was amazed, shocked and laughed so hard my jaw was aching. If you are in the front row you get bonus interaction with the performers. I was lucky enough to get a kiss from the lady in red, give leather clad Freddie Mercury a piggy back ride, and get some crotch thrusting from the Spanish temptress! Could I have wished for anything more?! After the show they interviewed me on camera and I put it quite simply... “There’s nothing like it, I can only describe it as Cirque du Soleil... but FUNNIER!

So roll up, roll up to the best show in town, visit La Clique’s website for full details and book your tickets NOW!

That was when I was a little girl. Well, I finally got to experience all these feelings, and more, all over again in Spiegelworld . Absinthe, this “variety show on acid”, a burlesque and a circus, a surreal trip into a whole other dimension appealed to my adult sensibilities the way the circus charmed me when I was a child.

Beelzy and I rushed to Pier 17, arriving a few minutes before 9:30 just in time to realize the tickets we bought were actually for next week. The ticket clerk straightened everything out for us and we kept on rushing to the lights and sounds of what seemed to be a carnival with a circus tent or two in the center of it all.

The view of Brooklyn Bridge was stunning, as was the enormous line of people waiting to get into the performance tent. We milled about, frustration and excitement mounting while people around us bought drinks at the outdoor bar and milled about. When we were finally let in, I was disappointed to find that my $79 bought a tiny foldout seat, one of dozens arranged tightly around a tiny stage. As people kept pouring in and searching fruitlessly for seats I realized that it’s possible that some had to find standing room. I sat there, feeling a bit gruff, but checking out this mini-circus tent with a stage no bigger than a large round dinner table with a piano on the side and giddy lights strung all around.

Whatever faults I was finding no longer mattered 10 minutes or so into the act. A woman in a tuxedo came out on stage singing and stealing drinks all around and then introduced the first gorgeous half-naked man we were to see twist and turn above us held up by two strips of cloth. I badly want to tell you about the entire show, but I realize that spoilers are a disservice to those of you who plan to catch the show before it leaves New York. I’ll give you the highlights as a compromise.

The ringmaster and his mail-order bride take the stage: “He is gay” “Gay, yes, because I am a very happy man, and happily married!” “He only likes me when I dress like this, because I look like a drag queen.” “Oh shut the fuck up, honey.”

They go on in this fashion through the show, obviously, they are also the clowns, and they are HILARIOUS. They warn everyone that this is a very sexy show, and then do a great trick with bananas. They harass audience members; so if you are in the front row, prepare to participate if only by getting yourself licked.

An act that stuck out for me involved a large balloon. I… can’t really explain the attraction. Yes, it was a strange striptease act; yes, partial (?) nudity was involved… but… how… why? You have to see it for yourself.

The careful music selection brought my arousal to even greater heights; people OOHed and AAHed all around me. The Sergeis took off their shirts and to a mix of electronica and jazz did the oddest stands using each other’s body parts as hand holds. A healthy portion of the show involved acrobatics. I found myself holding my breath while my heart beat like mad. My mouth was open more often then not with my eyes trying to swallow each detail of each act.

There were no safety nets, except for the angelic aerial acrobats who got a mat placed underneath as they plunged to the floor headfirst just to catch each other in the last possible moment in their airborne romance. There were, in fact, barely any clothes.  Lingerie, leather, and sparkles there were plenty of, however. Not really a kid-friendly show as you will be reminded.

During the intermission it occurred to me why “Absinthe” was getting such a huge emotional response from me. A while ago I read Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf, and in that novel there is a club where the main hero meets his muse and the sculptor of his soul. The club is raunchy, and surreal. It is possibly magical as it is not always easy to find and the doorman, or maybe owner, or just another customer seems to be a demon of sorts. “Absinthe” awoke in me the feeling I had while reading that book, that my very mindset was changing as I was brought over into a place where philosophy and sex mingled to please and torture.

Several more acts followed, a contortionists, a very drunk lady in red and a possibly more peculiar striptease than before. The people on stage were beautiful and obviously knew their bodies like I couldn’t even imagine knowing anything. I finally understood why people watched the Olympics as the laws of physics were defied before my very eyes, mere feet away, with smiles and winks that would have made the feats seem effortless if not for the taught muscles and the straining veins.

We unfortunately had to leave right after the show, but if we had time we would have checked out “Gazillionaire’s”, an improv show featuring an abominable host and his equally awful guests with live music and dancing. It broke our hearts a little to have to leave right away because more than anything we wanted to stay in this world created for us by “Absinthe”.

The performance was flawless, as were the performers themselves. We walked home secretly wondering how it would feel to have sex with pretty much all of them.

Hurry: The last show is on November 2nd.

Links:

• Spiegelworld
• Absinthe
• New York Times Review of Absinthe 2007 with lots of pics

SEXY 2 PC PIN UP LINGERIE GLAMOUR BRA SET. PINK WITH BLACK EYELASH TRIM, UNDER WIRE BRA TOP AND TONG SET

This was the first one....the angle was awkward.  The bottom of her rib cage, at least from that position, looked a little strange, but it came out alright for the most part.

This was my favorite...I've pumped the contrast a little too much, but I'm too lazy to go correct it (the shading was very, very, light).  Her torso is too thick, which you can see if you look at the thickness beneath "her" left arm.  If that back defining line, the one indicated by the little black triangle in the crook of her elbow, was moved over a few milimeters, it would do wonders.  Her head, and specifically her hair, was what I was interested in.  It didn't come out amazing, but I liked it better than anything else I produced this session.

Charcoal Club was crazy crowded this time around (which is a good thing), but since my dumb ass was about 15 minutes late, it meant I didn't have much to go with seating wise, basically a chair against the back wall.

Not much to say about these two either.   Nothing amazing, but nothing worth biting your pencils in two and throwing yourself in front of the light rail.

Oh well, maybe next week.

By the way, Dr. Sketchy's Baltimore is this Monday, Oct 13, 7 to 10 at Dionysus.  If you're having trouble scheduling your drawing and your beer, it's a good way to get it all out of the way at once.

Mr. Pickles YoYonah discovers a literary methodology to stimulate, her being the refrigerator.

Mr. Pickles YoYonah watches her like a fly, penitent in meditative wonders at the ‘pose’. She’s exotic and gazing at him as the nude, as a daylight- broad itself.

Mr. Pickles Yoyonah internalizes, the ‘pose’ is an eternal mystifying feminine symbol, whereas the gaze is very masculine, unwelcome, unfriendly, hostile, aggressive etc. Mr. Pickles Yoyonah delights at this spur of the moment of discovery and keeps this queer specimen of thought in the deeper recesses of his precious treasury. He would publish this later in all the journals of scholarly literature adding a lot of citations, references and paraphernalia.

Mr. Pickles YoYonah reflects her attitude: the refrigerator. He feels himself too, “a smiling sunshine, full of vigor, full of life.” He tries to rejuvenate her, slowly trying an  onomatopoeic, audio-phonic titivation.

“Alas”: he exclaims dejectedly: “her body language speaks. Alas, pity me, her, pleasures are in displeasure”.

He mumbles to her trying to seduce her absence of pathos,  stuttering in a very sleazific manner:

“Thusly dear, hush….sh! sh! sh! Shoo, shoo, it off darling…dear lushyly, sh! sh! lush…ciously”!

To the surprise of Pickles Yoyonah, she responds to his devoted gestures of fore-playing figures of speech with a very puzzling smile.

Mr. Pickles Yoyonah is desperate, trying to be absorbed in her body, trying to massage his mind to decipher the relevance of meaning about her smile.

Suddenly, he discovers it… “it is eureka.” He makes a conclusion, it isn’t a beastly smile, no, na, it must be so human, and that it isn’t anymore a human smiling, but a creature of all smiles called its soul.

Stunning photo by TKExpressions ( www.tkexpressions.com ) and amazing flyer design by Alexis.

Things are getting more and more crowded (I'm not joking), so claim your seat early if you can.

September's session was our biggest one yet. Maria Bella from Gilded Lily was amazing . . . as is apparently everyone at Gilded Lily, so we're not really surprised any more. If you notice, we switched the layout of the room this time to a Looking-Glass version ( or Mirror-Universe version if you want to be a geek about it ) of our old layout. Whether we're the "good" Dr. Sketchy's or the "evil mirror goatee" Dr. Sketchy's from this point forward I'll leave up to you.

Yes, I just went there.

Here's some Maria photos, pop an aspirin if you have a heart condition.

Not only that, this was our first official session founded by Atomic Books in Hampden, who provided a gift card to one of our contest winners. The art was even more amazing this time around....in a few days we'll put some up in a post. :)

As usual special thanks to Maria Bella for a knockout posing job and costume selection, thanks to Dionysus and Lynn for providing a great venue and for helping us talk to the police, a new Dr. Sketchy's attendee (whose name I can't remember) for helping us make change when we ran short on ones, Alexis for helping me host even though she was sick, and Jeff for not only taking the photos in this post but also helping shove tables and chairs around for an hour or so beforehand.

If I've forgotten someone, it's because you were so special, I couldn't even, err, think of the words. (I know I'm forgetting someone too.)

Anyways, if you happened to stay for a beer afterward, you even got a SECOND show, when my dumb ass attempted to tackle some twelve-year-old kid who was stealing the back tire of a bicycle belonging to a Dionysus patron. As an aside, neither the national Dr. Sketchy's nor Dr. Sketchy's-Baltimore endorses the tackling of twelve-year-olds, no matter what they're doing, but what you do on your own time after two or three celebratory shots and moving a bunch of tables back in place, well, that's up to you. Keep in mind though, that after those two or three shots, all that's likely to happen is your dumb ass power-sliding across four or five feet of asphalt to the tune of ripped up jeans and a bunch of blood. Go Team Sketchy.

When the police showed up, things got even stranger as one drunk patron, having no idea what was going on, then attempted to convince the friendly officers to cuff and arrest her because she had been "very, very bad." Luckily, Lynn intervened ( no matter how fun handcuffs sound at 11 pm, they aren't nearly as fun when no one is paying attention to your safe word ), and the officers were able pursue our hardened gang of bike thieves.

Now tell me this isn't cool......though the police were unable to catch the rear-tire-absconder, they were able to produce several back tires to replace the one that had been stolen. Coolest cops ever. I don't know their names, but if they're feeling the urge to do some drawing some time, they're more than welcome.

Did you read this far? I wouldn't have. Here's one last photo for your trouble though.....Maria Bella in a Medusa costume giving the artists a rocky stare. See you on Monday.

Burlesque Style Lingerie

LEG AVENUE BLACK HALTER CHEMISE WITH RED TRIM DETAIL. SATIN FEEL WITH MATCHING G STRING.

SEXY NAVY LACE CHEMISE WITH MATCHING G STRING. NEW FROM LEG AVENUE

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SEXY 3 PC BURLESQUE DANCER COSTUME WITH LACE UP FRONT DRESS, HAT WITH FEATHER AND STOCKING FROM LEG AVENUE

www.roxystyles.com

SEXY BURLESQUE STYLE FRENCH CANCAN COSTUME WITH CORSET TOP DRESS WITH POM POM TRIM AND LACE UP BACK FROM LEG AVENUE'S 2008 SEXY COSTUMES COLLECTION

SEXY LEG AVNUE BUTTON UP KNEE HIGH HIGH STILETTO HEEL BOOTS

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Burlesque ist Retro, Burlesque ist die elegante, saubere und prachtvolle Art des Sriptease. Burlesque hat Seele. War das schon immer so oder kommt es uns heute mit unseren reizüberfluteten Augen nur so vor, dass Frau beim Burlesque Würde und Stolz behält. Sind wir eben einfach derberes, platteres gewohnt?

Popkulturikone Betty Page ist Wahrzeichen des 50er Jahre Pin ups, Fetisch und Burlesque-Tanz. Sie prägte nicht nur eine Ära sondern ist auch heute noch Inspiration und Muse der Modeszene. Der Rockabilly Retrostyle kommt ohne sie nicht aus.

Die erotisch naiver Art ihrer Selbstdarstellung fasziniert über Jarzehnte Hinweg Männer aber auch Frauen. Einzigartig ist ein jüngeres Interview mit ihr bei dem sie jedoch als gealtertes einstmaliges Sexsymbol dem Zuschauer verborgen bleibt.

In Betty Page Fußstapfen tritt heute Dita von Teese. Vom gewöhnlichen Tabledancemädchen schaffte sie es mit einem cleveren Medienumgang zum akzeptierten und hochklassigen Showgirl zu avencieren.

Dita von Teese, imitiert nicht nur den Burlesquetanz. Sie gab ihm auch ein neues Gesicht. Im letzten Jahrzehnt wandelte sich auch das Zuschauerklientel. Von der Untergrund Fetischszene hin zum tendigen Mainstream Amusement. Diese Mode lebt von und mit ihren Assesoirs. Strumpfhosen, Highheels und Korsetts dienen der Wandlung hin zu einer Phantasiefigur, einem Showgirl.  Die exotische Kleidung, das Verkleiden ist sicherlich mit Grund dafür, das immermehr weibliche Zuschauer fasziniert sind von dieser eindruckvollen Performents.

Burlesquetänzerinnen strahlen eine unheimlich intensive sexuelle Kraft und ein positives Körpergefühl aus. Burlesque-girls sind keine Mädchen die natürlich wirken wollen. Sie kreieren sich selbst für die Bühne, für ein Publikum neu. Die Verführung des Publikums erfolgt mit Charme, typischen retro Posen und einem Augenzwinkern. Bei der Entwicklung einer Showfigur spielt das Thema eine große Rolle das durch hochwertige Assesoirs lebendig wird.

In einem Interview spricht Dita von Teese über die Liebe ihrer weiblichen Zuschauer zu dem Glamour des Burlesque:

Dita von Teese, das Showgirl auf der Bühne:

Catwalk is burlesque, so Dita von Teese. Dita arbeitet bereits mit 15 Jahren selbst in einem Lingeriegeschäft und spricht über ihre liebe zu Point-schuhen und Korsetts. Hat nicht jedes Mädchen und Frau eine Liebe zu ihren Kleidern oder bestimmten Assesoirs die zu einem guten und sexy Körpergefühl beitragen? Viele Frauen lieben Handtaschen, Schuhe oder Halsketten, die ein Hilfsmittel sind um die eigene Persönlichkeit nach außen zu tragen. Ein kleines Showgirl steckt also in fast jeder von uns.

Dita weiss wie wichtig Mode für den Ausdruck der eigenen Persönlichkeit ist. Sie macht deutlich, das trotzdem sie auf der Bühne für das Publikum performt, Lingerie trägt um sich selbst gut zu fühlen:

Chana, Sara, Darren and I took the D all the way to Coney Island after work on Friday. The weather had cleared up, and we were giddy from the long subway ride. When we emerged at the mecca of all fast food restaurants, Nathan's Famous, we squealed.

We made our way to the freak show seeking beer and, well, freakshows. Almost immediately, we were accosted by the self proclaimed Strongest Beer in the World, a delicious He-Brew, and something that tasted like grapefruit, Darren's favorite.

By then we were drunk and back at Nathan's, feasting on hot dogs and fries, hiccupping with laughter.

We went back to Freaktoberfest and encountered all the freaks Freaktoberfest had promised. From the sideshow freaks, to the burlesque show freaks, to the beer-drinking freaks, to the deformed version of ourselves that stared back from the hall of mirrors. We stood in front of the mirrors, allowed our eyes to readjust as our legs grew and our faces contorted; part trick of the eye, part effect of the booze.

The circus sideshow was a throw-back of sorts, complete with a lightbulb eater, a fire juggler, and the requisite woman in a knife-strewn box. The crowd hooted and hissed with drunk delight. I sat down next to a man from my past, who was a guest of a coworker. "It's a small world," he winked, as the ringmaster buried another knife into the box. Someone screamed. Chana left.

We slid into wire backed chairs and folded our arms patiently, watching the burlesque dancer named Cherry Pitt slowly strip down to a g-string and tassels. Sara impulsively stuck a dollar in her thong. Darren followed, sat back down, and smiled. "This is the best birthday present, kid."

Some of my colleagues showed up and hollered. So I stuck a dollar in the dancer's underwear, too. Why not?

A bunch of us walked down to the beach, and I ran into the ocean, soaking my feet and bottoms of my jeans. I didn't care. I rolled a tiny joint and we sprawled out on the sand, passing it quickly and letting the wind carry the smoke out into the Atlantic.

On our way home to Manhattan, Sara and I stretched out on the Q train. Someone poked me. I had no idea where I was, but I assumed it was the end of the line.

"Miss, get up." It was a police officer. Oh shit. He woke Sara up, and let Darren sleep upright. He led us off the train, and I grabbed Darren and pulled him with us.

"You girls aren't from New York, are you?" asked Officer Ng.

"We're both from New York," I said, trying to sound poised.

"It's illegal to lay down in the subway. You could get robbed. Did you know that?"

At this point, Sara began giggling. I elbowed her on the bench.

"Officer, you see, we were coming back from Coney Island, and we were so tired, and we knew we would end of falling asleep, we even set an alarm!"

Sara laughed out loud.

"I'm going to have to do a background check to make sure there aren't any warrants out for your arrest."

We handed him our ids and tried to sit still. My contacts were glued to my eyes. Sara's giggles were glued to my ears. Five, maybe ten minutes passed. We all sat still. The cop finally shrugged. No one was returning his walkie-talkie code. He sneered at us and gave us back our ids.

"I'm going to let you girls go." Darren coughed. "But don't do it again. Consider this a warning."

"Oh we will, officer!" I cheered.

As Ng walked away, Sara burst into laughter. Darren rolled his eyes. I yawned. What a freak.

All photos (c) Darren Shannon, 2008

Today’s blog, for all my chirpy I-actually-quite-like-Mondays efforts, may not contain the overwhelming feeling of warmth and positivity I normally try and impart on you all.

You see, this weekend was a bit of a shitter.

I am considerably poorer, I had a hangover for the first time in a very long time indeed, and I completely wasted about six hours of my life.

But honestly, this morning, I feel pretty good. It was just the weekend that sucked balls, ok?

And it actually started pretty well.

I went home Friday, had a very pleasant meal indeed, worked exceptionally hard in the gym and felt great, and got off to bed at a decent time, falling asleep as I normally do on a Friday night to the sights and sounds of Jools Holland TV show – a music show on BBC2.

I woke up Saturday morning at a surprisingly late time for me – about 9am, and, after a leisurely breakfast, began to get ready. Today was tattoo day.

It was about 11am that I started to chicken out. I began second guessing where I wanted it, and if I was actually doing it for the right reasons. These aren’t things you want to get unless you’re 101% sure.

So I decided not to go, and instead decided what to do with my day. I guess I was beating myself up a little at this point – I wasn’t in the best mood.

But then, the mail arrived, and my demeanour was (albeit temporarily) lifted. I had received a letter.

So quick was I to open it, glad to have something to do, I didn’t quite realise that I had recognised the writing on the front to be my own – it had registered, I just hadn’t had that ‘oh’ moment.

And there it was. Over two months after my course completion, I had received a letter from myself, written on the final day of my course, detailing every wonderful emotion I was feeling at that time. ‘Don’t forget these moments, and who you are’ I was telling myself. This was me at my greatest, telling myself not to let go; not to forget.

‘Fuck this’ I thought, went upstairs, took a shower, and got in the car. ‘That David would be doing something ‘in the moment’’ I thought. ‘Better not let him down.’

I guess it was about 15 minutes into my half an hour car drive into Camden Town that I thought to myself. ‘No… wait.’ Once again, I was plagued by doubt. 5 minutes later, and feeling pretty crappy about the way I was constantly second guessing myself, the car was turned around and I was driving back.

I texted a friend of mine, Ashley, to see what he was doing that night, and 5 minutes later, I had an invite to go to Roadhouse, a bar in Covent Garden. If I am being honest, I had known that texting Ashley meant I would end up being invited out, and I knew that going out with Ashley meant I would be having some drinks – not a usual practice for me, and with good reason.

But anyway, I was ‘swimming in the shit’ as was once famously (well, famously to my Hoffman group) said, and rather enjoying feeling like crap. After wandering some shops looking for ANYTHING to fill the gaping hole I was feeling, I bought some trousers – I know, exotic or what? – and quickly made my way home, very excited about the prospect of blowing off some steam.

There is a reason I do not generally drink is because, simply, drinking and I do not mix. All the extremities of my past life seem to divulge into one when I drink – it’s like all the focus on self destruct and self hatred are zoned in on that glass, and I won’t stop until I feel in myself that I have reached my limit – which, occasionally and thankfully, does happen from time to time – or I just get to the point of near-oblivion.

Let me give you an example. On Saturday night, I was never without less than 2 glasses of drink in my hand at one point for the first… 3 hours. I was out with two other people, and when it was my round at the bar, I would order 4 drinks – 1 for each of us, and 1 for me to down while I was waiting for the barman to return with my credit card.

By the time we left Roadhouse, and went to another club, Carbon, I was pretty drunk. I managed another couple of drinks when I got there, but the damage was already well and truly done.

After taking a cab home, I somehow managed to lock up the house properly, and collapsed into bed, having (and this is something I realised only the morning after when I woke up) perfectly folded and hung up the clothes I was wearing – even to the point of replacing the shoe trees in my shoes, and re-balling up my socks. It was quite a surreal sight.

Rather predictably, I was hungover. Being that I don’t generally drink, and therefore have a low tolerance, and then combining it with my occasional need for excess and punishing my body, my hangovers are really bad. My body just doesn’t know how to deal with it any more.

I woke up around 11 – not bad seeing as I’d got back around 4 – actually feeling ok. Sluggish, but mostly ok. I actually managed to get up, and even (for some reason as I was naked and bloody freezing) managed to walk over to my laptop and have a quick glance at my emails. About 20 minutes later, I realised all was not well in the world of David, so I stumbled downstairs – still naked and freezing, being that I didn’t feel like my head would take the sudden movements and jerking of putting on a t-shirt.

I managed a glass of water, and about 2 bits of a piece of cake before quickly returning to bed, presumably hoping that I would wake up when either hell had frozen over, or this hangover had disappeared.

I was however consciously aware that at some point I would have to get up. A friend of mine had set me up on a date that night with someone called Sara. Sara and I had spoken on the phone, done the whole exchange of pictures thing, and generally got on very well. It was for that reason that really, I didn’t want to not go, despite already being aware that I was going to be some way off my best form.

Do not ask me how, but at about 3, I somehow managed to get up, take a shower, and gingerly make my way to buy some flowers for that evening. What can I say? I’m a gentleman.

Feeling somewhere beyond delicate, I managed to get back home, went back to bed for 15 minutes (seriously) took another shower, marvelled at being able to keep some food down, and feeling absolutely awful, made my way to West Hampstead to pick up Sara.

I picked Sara up at 5.30, pretty early for a date, but there was a reason for this. I had booked us tickets for a Burlesque Cabaret show in London’s Soho at Madame Jojo – a very cool, uber hip club right in the middle of London’s gay scene, and opposite a gay porn store, advertising, in the window, what I guess was the gay porn version of ‘No Country For Old Men’ - ‘No Cunties For Hung Men’. Seriously.

After going to a local pub for a quick drink – and getting some very weird looks being that I was (a) straight, and (b) with a woman, we made our way to the show.

The show itself was ok – a mixture of some very good – one particular model, a Ms Golden Delicious (which I suspect may not have been her real name) was particularly alluring. (www.myspace.com/missgoldendelicious) Some were downright awful, though. There was one group, who I can only assume were there as part of some competition win, who looked like a group of drunken 40-something housewives who had just had Ann Summers throw up on them. That one was particularly painful to watch. Fortunately, the final act were absolutely fantastic – a musical combo who used songs as comedy, changing the arrangements and such.

I was having quite a decent time, perhaps not as decent as I had hoped, but one thing was bugging me. The MC/Compare for the evening was rubbish. But that wasn’t what was pissing me off. It was Sara.

The show was 2 and a half hours, and for 2 and a half hours, Sara had not shut up about how terrible he was. ‘I can’t believe how bad he is’, she would say. ‘He’s so amateurish’ was another. For 2 and a half hours. And, as she polished off her third glass of wine, she was getting a little bit louder with it. Not loud, just loud-er.

And, as we left, it continued. To be honest, I wanted out at that point, but I was bloody starving, and I finally felt like my stomach was ready for proper food. We’d spoken briefly about getting something to eat, and after some very minor persuasion, I was convinced to go and get some Chinese food in Chinatown. Being a Londoner with a working knowledge of where and where not to go, we were safe from food poisoning.

They say the two things you should never talk about on a date are religion and politics. I should have probably written that on my hand at some point. Sara started to ask me about my job, and conversation turned to why we were in the shit as a country, and more questions led to me (quite happily, being that I didn’t want to hear about how the MC/Compare was awful again) explaining my theories on a changing world, the emerging east, and the west’s failure to grasp that it isn’t the dominant political and economic power it once was.

Yeah, things were a laugh riot at this point.

Of course, at this point, I was looking for trouble, and I began to notice things like how horrible her table manners were, how she was rude to the waiters and how she didn’t even OFFER to pay for anything. I mean, I’m fine with paying. I genuinely don’t have a problem, but a false show of willing would be appreciated! Just half-reach for your purse and let me say ‘no, don’t be silly’! But no. The bill came and she just stared at me.

‘Fuck it’ I thought. ‘The sooner I pay, the sooner I can go home’.

We walked through Leicester Square, to get back to the car, which was parked on Saville Row. You’d think we’d reached the low point by this time, but no, the worst was to come.

Set up just outside Leicester Square were some tables, and Sara wanted to see what they were. Apparently, some Scientologists were offering ‘stress tests’, and Sara wanted to do it.

I have a problem with Scientology. It’s obviously a cult, it quite obviously rips people off, and it was started by someone who lived on a boat with a group of 13 year old boys. (He really did)

So we approach, and then, for some inexplicable reason, Sara, in the blink of an eye, had gone from willing partaker to someone whose sole concern was seeing how much she could annoy these people and take the piss out of them, all the time never letting go of my arm, making me an accomplice to this ridiculous charade, and making me look will a willing party.

She then turned and walked away, quite proud of the truly outstandingly bizarre few minutes that had passed, and I just wanted to run. Very fast. Talk, almost inevitably, turned to religion. Sara was happy to offer her opinions on God, religion, and the world, but the moment I offered counter-opinion (and I stress, NOT argument) she immediately dismissed it with a quite literal wave of her hand and an ‘I’m not interested in other people trying to dictate what I think.’

The car ride home was quiet(er) than the hours that had preceded it, and we finally arrived to where she lived. I lied, and told her it was fun, making quite clear that I intended to leave by keeping the engine on.

Now, apparently, I was the only one who didn’t think it went particularly well, because, as I went to kiss Sara goodbye (on the cheek) she turned her head, and tried some disastrous faux-passionate kiss right on my lips. I left them there for a few seconds while I decided the best way to get the fuck out of this without this person chopping me to pieces and keeping my head in her fridge, pulled back, and just said ‘goodnight’, trying my best not to quite literally shove her out of the door.

So yeah, the weekend went well.

Anyway, how are all of you?

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