It was Marcella, the girl (yes, girl) doing my toes, the 108 lb. spitfire with the mohawk and butterfly tattoo, that told me to go to the show. A tribute to Prince; Erotic City was the headline and opening song, Marcella was one of two, backup-dancers. I showed her my picture with Prince at the zombie bike ride—“hell,” she said, “you have to go.” Marcella was so cool and did such a great job on my feet I would have paid to see her do handstands on sunset pier. I bought one seat at a table for six, got good and high and went to the burlesque. The house was packed and my table mates were great, burlesque fans and just the right amount of chatty. They bought me drinks (diet cokes) and one was also there because Marcella had done her toes the day after mine. Little hustler.
I’ve been to strip clubs and drag shows, hired a belly-dancer for my husband, I’ve seen naked people in the street, but I’ve never seen a burlesque show. It was fabulous. It was tits and ass and costumes and song and dance, raspberry beret and purple haze. I must say that I never saw so many good looking bottoms. The french lady shook the old men’s ponytails, the fat lady sang, the I-don’t-know-what-gender-person danced so frickin’ fast and hard the floorboards were smokin.’ Marcella was adorable, a teetering tease on stilettos. But the show stealer was the buxom brunette with pasties the size of saucers, with weight-lifting muscles that could direct her breasts to every compass point, independent of each other or in unison. The audience was fixated on the swirl of shiny, red beads attached to her tits, breaking gaze only to ask their neighbor, “how does she do that?” A good question and a well deserved standing ovation.
I suppose that in the world of burlesque this was a pretty amateurish production. The venue was good but the sound system needed help. The master of ceremonies was excellent but several performers missed their cues. Wigs fell and zippers stuck. Shoot, I didn’t care. I hooted and hollered right along with the entire theater and smiled as I walked home, imagining the bedroom shows that would be playing around town later that evening.