The Burlesque Diary, Part 3

The pasties, the bra, the boa, the gloves the dress. Yes. Today was the big time - taking most of it off, to the tune of "Harlem Nocturne", which I fortunately have on my burlesque music CD. (That hardly ever happens with a dance class - lucky me!) We started slow, first with boas (which are so fun and flirty. How did I make it past 40 without a boa? What was I thinking?) Boas are great - show, cover up, show, cover up, discard with a flourish. (As Lily said, burlesque is the art of making the little big, and making the big little).

Gloves were great, too - tease slooooowly, one finger at a time, ease them off, twirl and fling. My dress was a bit of a challenge - it's best if the back zipper is low, so you can just reach up the back to start it going. My dress? Zipper started at the neck. I had to fudge by pulling down to a reachable level. Turn your back, unzip. Turn to the front, one arm out, both arms out, hold dress up, show the back, ease down, bend over, puddle on floor, step out without killing self. Repeat with bra.

Now, I had excellent intentions of stripping down to pasties, but the dang tape wouldn't stick at the studio. It worked just fine at home, of course. So, I improvised but putting my shocking pink burlesque brassiere over my unitard. It came off just fine, but I realized that the unitard was a bit - um -inadequate for my front. No surprises occurred, though. My compadres did a lovely job of attaching their pasties, and they even color-coordinated their lingerie to the pasties. Red and black. Grey leopard print with pewter grey pasties. And when their brassieres hit the floor, they all looked FINE. Pasties make everything fabulous, dontcha know.

One of best things burlesque can give you is the realization that even if you are not perfect, most of you is excellent, regardless of shape or size. And some parts of you are probably better than excellent. And then there's that darn-I'm-good energy that we all need but have a hard time finding. I showed up for class a bit down, and I left feeling completely back to my perky self. I don't need Zoloft or Paxil, I need fun, heavily laced with slow music and sequins. And a burlesque name - I'm considering "Stella Soiree".

Try some burlesque - I think every woman's life needs some pasties, a feather boa, and good feelings.