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My Weekend With The Tassel Twirlers (from Features)

burlesque.JPG by Lexi Kahn (photo by JustBill)

 

When Boston Babydoll Betty Blaize contacted me in November 2006 to see if I wanted to participate in the first Great Boston Burlesque Expo, I must admit that I didn’t hesitate for a second before saying yes.

No, I wasn’t about to learn to bump, grind or twirl tassels. Ms. Blaize wanted my contribution for the business side of performing. "Sit on a panel about talking to the media? Teach a class about self-promotion? No problem!" Usually I’m talking to local rock musicians about such things, but I was happy to fine-tune my schpiel for the gals.

It was November, and The Great Boston Burlesque Expo would take place over the weekend of February 16th - 19th 2007 at Boston’s John Hancock Center, so I had three months to wonder what goes on when hundreds of burlesquers get together. According to the website, there would be classes about costuming on the cheap, chair dancing and other sultry movement-oriented things. There would also be some business and promotional classes. One lecture on the history of Burlesque by historian David Kruh looked interesting. Between classes, participants could browse a big roomful of vendor booths selling everything from corsets and boas to shoes, jewelry, naughty chocolates and racy lollipops.

When February rolled around, the press coverage for the event was fantastic. Except for people who live under a rock (ie, never read the papers or pay attention to local news) everyone was aware of the upcoming Great Boston Burlesque Expo; a strong publicity campaign put feathers, boobs and fishnets in the pages of The Boston Phoenix, The Globe, The Herald, The Metro, and even on local Fox 25 news and cable access. Part of the buzz generated might have come from the "big event" slated for Saturday, February 17th. On that night, Jai Rodriguez (Queer Eye) was to host an event that promised the most tassels ever twirling on one stage. Now that’s a ton of titties!

On Saturday, February 17th I arrived at the John Hancock an hour before my first task of the day, to moderate a panel called "How to Talk to the Media." Getting off the elevator at the third floor, the first thing I noticed was event organizers Betty Blaize and Ol’ Scratch (both of the Boston Babydolls) sitting alone at a table. And they did not look happy. The second thing I noticed was that there wasn’t anyone else in the room. Uh oh…I brought enough materials for my 4 o’clock class ("Be Your Own Publicist") to educate thirty sexy girls. It seems that despite the phenomenal press, the attendance was rather lower than expected. After a few pleasantries with the grim organizers, I headed for the vendor area.

How out of place was I in that vendor room? Well let’s see. I was in a business suit, black with white piping. Nothing racy going on at all with that outfit. Though I was wearing my leather & metal New Rock boots — these boots give me an extra three inches of height and have some kind of industrial machinery built into the heel. They cost $300 and were hand-carried from London for me. But nobody was looking at my boots. That’s because at every vendor booth there were huge boobies straining to break free from leather, vinyl and lace. There was wiggling, there was jiggling. There was majestic hair piled high, spilling into impossibly perfect ringlets, shining in spectacular reds, ravens and blondes. There was glitter absolutely everywhere. I realized pretty quickly that these people are totally committed to a lifestyle I have only read about. With big smiles and genuine warmth, they gave me a queen’s welcome.

I had an awesome time.

If I’d wanted to, I could’ve had a total Burlesque make-over. I could’ve gone home to my boyfriend wearing a personally-fitted corset pulled taut by a team of scantily clad girls, my tits hoisted under my chin, new pink wig and princess-angel-fairy flouncey skirt. Fishnets, feathers, glitter, the works. Everyone who sells everything for "the look" was there, even Teddy Shoes (548 Massachusetts Ave, Cambridge, MA) with a full selection of dance shoes and stilletto heels.

I didn’t do a make-over though. I was a big chicken and didn’t want to be naked in the John Hancock building. One girl, about my size (which we can safely call, um, zaftig) had stripped to the waist, had her ta ta’s painted in some exotic way, and was getting a pole-dancing lesson from a smokin’ hot Latina. It was…well let’s just say that girl had some balls. Not for me.  I really, really wanted to keep my ta ta’s safely my bra, thank you very much.

I did do something wild — I bought an amazing purse. For $120. I, the Thrift Queen of Rock City, actually spent $120 on a handmade purse by Rebound Designs. It’s a book, re-made into a purse. The book? The Art of Modern Conjuring. The artist, Caitlin Philips, was a total sweetheart and I wish I could’ve bought about ten more of her creations, they’re irresistible and totally worth the money.

All the vendors were excellent, so it was a shame there were so few attendees. I felt compelled to act extra-interested in the retailers who had hauled so much merchandise to Boston only to have so few sales. Maybe the price of admission to the Expo was too high, or maybe no one wants to come to Boston in February. We did just have that insane deep freeze that turned the sidewalks into sheets of ice. Or maybe the general public didn’t understand what was going on during the daytime Expo events? The annual Fetish Fairs, after all, are swamped! Where were all the people for the Great Boston Burlesque Fest?

I left the vendor area to prepare for my main events. At two o’clock, a panel called "How to Talk to the Media," where I would moderate, joined by writer Jeannie Greeley, radio personality David Lawrence and historian/writer David Kruh.

Nobody showed up.

To be fair, we were four publicity types sitting on a dais, while across the hall Lady Miss Iris was teaching a class on bumps, grinds and pin-up poses. Which room would YOU rather be in? Finally, one of the Babydolls, Miss Honey-Do, came in and sat down. "You," quipped Jeannie, "are going to learn a lot." We did the panel full-throttle, just as though the room were full of interested performers and, I’m happy to say, I loved meeting and working with the two Davids and Jeannie. Really cool people, and we all promised to keep in touch.

At four o’clock I was scheduled to teach a one-hour class called "Be Your Own Publicist." This is material I know cold, but I’d put together a special package just for the Burlesquers. I was happy to see eight people (seven girls and one dude) file into the room, and I think everyone had a good time and learned a lot. I didn’t stick around for the evening festivities, even though it would have been fun to meet my third-favorite Queer Eye guy, Jai Rodriguez. Had it been Kyan Douglas, no question. Sorry Jai. I had to get across town to the 14th Annual Mardi Gras.

Betty Blaize sent me a thank-you card after the event, which was very classy of her, and in it she hinted to a 2008 reprisal. Hmm…they’ll have to iron out some of the rough spots, such as the low attendance problem. I would say that next year, the press pitch should target a wider audience. In fact, in the weeks that followed the Expo I don’t think I encountered a single friend or colleague who hadn’t known about it, yet no one went — the most-cited reason for not going? "I wasn’t clear on what would be going on." Hopefully they do manage to pull it off again next year.

Maybe next time I’ll try the pole dancing.

Links:
Burlesque Expo
Rebound Designs

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(Below is a feature originally written in May 2006 for The Noise magazine, reprinted here for a bit of history.)

BURLESQUE IN BOSTON

Diving into the world of burlesque in Boston means looking back to the 1800s, to a neighborhood called Scollay Square. Though originally built as a cultural attraction for Boston elite, by the 1920s Scollay Square had become something of a mecca for oddballs and thrillseekers. A doomsday cult moved in, popular comedians hosted racy shows and purveyors of vaudeville and dance entertained into the wee hours. That is until 1961 when the Square’s epicenter, the legendary Old Howard Theatre, burned down under, ahem, mysterious circumstances.

Before long Scollay Square was sacrificed to the gods of progress — to curb the city’s raunch factor, Boston officials razed the area to make way for Government Center. No more feathers or tassels or corsets or fishnets. Just acres of blank, sterile cement plaza and a bunch of stuffy office buildings. The only memento left from old Scollay was a memorial marker on Congress Street. That is, until the Burlesque Revival Association came along in 2000.

BRA, as it was fondly known, was formed by Boston’s avant-everything artist Trista Beard and actress/dancer Sarah Lafferty, later joined by dancer Amy Harmon. These women were denizens of the edgy, fertile underground cabaret scene that brings music together with performance art of all kinds. If indie rock is a subculture, this scene is a sub-subculture that included (and still does include) performers like Rick Berlin, Kitty Heels (Leigh Calabrese), Leah Callahan, Amanda Palmer, Cynthia von Buhler and the Sob Sisters. BRA was a sassy troupe of attractive girls with superior showmanship. They performed consistently for a few years, bringing sex and laughter together in order to truly capture the campy baseness of old burlesque.

The founders of BRA have relocated. But once planted, the seeds of burlesque revival were destined to flourish, and Boston is home to several troupes of successful shimmy-shimmy-shakers. Boston Babydolls, Black Cat Burlesque and Thru the Keyhole Burlesque are three of the best-known acts, primarily because they all perform along with rock bands in favorite clubs.

So what is burlesque, and how is it different from stripping? For some, there’s no difference. For others, it’s the music. But for the performers, it goes much deeper than that. It’s about the intent.

“There are crucial differences!” says Ol’ Scratch, the master of ceremonies for the Boston Babydolls. “The intention of the stripper is to separate the audience from their money and to sell the illusion of sex. It’s about arousal. Burlesque is primarily about entertainment. Modern burlesque dancers don’t get naked.”

Ol’ Scratch, who says he has the “best job in the world,” explains that the original burlesque from the late 1800s was comical, women dressing as men and making fun of things. “It was like fool’s parade.”

“Today we’re so desensitized to nudity,” says Mandy Ness of Thru the Keyhole. “Burlesque seems tame by today’s standards, but back then that was RACY.” With this troupe you get nine statuesque beauties with creamy skin and expertly-sewn costumes who perform with the cohesion of the Rockettes. Though they stay true to old burlesque, they make sure they can perform an act suitable for mixed audiences for when they perform at events like car shows. “You have to know your audience. You can’t flash your pasties with five year olds around.” When asked about the burlesque revival, Mandy can’t say enough good things about her Thru the Keyhole partner Jessica Sciullo (who was part of BRA) or Miss Firecracker, currently of Black Cat Burlesque, but she also has seen a number of nightclub acts that aren’t quite up to Thru the Keyhole’s standards. “Today a lot of the troupes that are popping up are using the word burlesque without properly realizing what it is,” Mandy explains. “I see things that are true to burlesque fashion, and I see things I would never in a million years consider to be burlesque. Let’s just say there’s a lack of quality control when it comes to using certain terminology.”

Speaking of Miss Firecracker, her Black Cat Burlesque might be the wildest act of its kind. This squad, which includes illustrator Mister Reusch, blends elements of burlesque with an aggressive dose of dark arts, the result being a sort of grimoire ritual set to music.

While these burlesque acts are different in style and execution, each troupe shares the same intent; they perform with a fierce desire to entertain their audience, and in their sense of humor embrace a sincere devotion to the spirit of old burlesque.

Viva Scollay Square!

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