29 May 2014

London Burlesque Festival - fizz, fripperies and feminism

We Burlicious three trotted off to the LBF Big Day Out on Saturday, for a hard day's work shopping, researching and planning. Ah, the daily grind (see what we did there?) of we showgirls and troupe mistresses!

Taking the weight off our slingbacks mid afternoon, we sat back, glass of fizz in hand, to watch the show.

While all the performers were good, our heart was won by Violet Blaze. Not only was she sporting the most bejewelled corset in the world (like little magpies, we beadily watched every twinkle and glitter, eaten up with envy) but this woman is sass and confidence personified. She brought the flippin' house down.

We don't often make serious points in these posts - our preference is for the confidence boost of what we do to peep out subtly from under our gossamer-light weekly witterings. However, for those of you who question (as do we, sometimes) how burlesque and feminism can share a stage, take yourself off to see Violet.

If ever there was a celebration of a body that does not fit the current Vogue norm and yet just oozes confidence, power and sexuality, Ms Blaze is it. A woman who is all woman, dancing for a crowd that was almost all women, and making us all feel that there is nothing as good as revelling in having the body that you have - hats off to you Violet. You're what this is all about.

Yours, revved up and ready to take on the world,

Burlicious x

22 May 2014

Too small to cover our modesty

To you, our showgirls look sexy, delicious and gorgeous, each with her own style and beauty.

To our long-suffering Props Manager, our showgirls are agents of destruction, mercilessly trashing the fruit of his labours. So, it was with a distinct shudder that he greeted the news that we wanted delicate feather fans for this routine.

A rigorous web search revealed a happy compromise - practice fans in fabulous colours sourced from the glamorous Orient to use while our beauties learn the routine. They're cheap enough that the odd breakage doesn't cause heartache.

There's just one small downside.

They're teeeeny.

It's just as well that we don't take off our clothes when we dance. Trust us, there would be nothing left to the imagination. With our fans there would be no cover, tease then slow reveal. It would be more of a "here it is... with a bit of a feather ruff round the edges."

 I guess there's a market for that somewhere?

Yours, loving the daftness of our little feathery accessories, 

Burlicious x

8 May 2014

A fanfare of trumpets, puh...lease

Yep, we have finally finished crafting our new dance routine. It's an elegant, dreamy, slinkster of a thing, with just a dusting of smut to bring it down to earth at the end.

Frankly, if we weren't so bloomin' obsessed with devising new moves and developing something that has a coherent style, we could have finished the thing months ago. If we could bring ourselves to lower the tone, we could bang together a few grinds, a couple of quickies and a bum shimmy (trust me, the latter is NOT for us!) in an afternoon and go on to the next bit of design, no sweat.

Instead, we have long afternoons of head-scratching; test-driving; looking at each other blankly; unwise contortions; running into bits of furniture and the uncontrolled, shouty hilarity that tells all the neighbours that we're having a choreography session.

Yes, it does take us forever to design something that we like. On the other hand, sitting on the kitchen floor, crying with laughter having tried out a move that somehow manages to make each of us look like a bag of brawling ferrets, is an utterly brilliant way to spend time.

Yours, smiling even now at the the thought of the moves that didn't make the cut,

Burlicious x

1 May 2014

Character crisis

A return last night to our very own version of Hey, Big Spender. We've had plenty of mileage out of this little number over the years, as an introductory routine for those fresh to fishnets, and as a warm up for our regular classes. Our version is just 90 seconds long; can easily be taught in an hour; and gives plenty of opportunity for mayhem when we get the class to change direction and to dance it facing each other.

We still fondly remember the first time we danced to this music following someone else's choreography, many, many moons ago when Burlicious was just a little diamante twinkle in our eye. "Can I ask," said the woman with whom I was paired for a bit of strutting towards each other, "Are we meant to be rivals fighting over a man or are we lesbian lovers?"

Given that my head at that point was fully taken up with: "one and two and three and four and five and six and seeeee..ven eight", I had no satisfactory answer for her. Perhaps we're just not taking this seriously enough?

Yours, shallowly enjoying just being gorgeous to music,

Burlicious x




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