A
couple of weeks ago, I escaped to the great wild North that is Buffalo, NY to
visit my hometown, which is of no importance to me other than its association
with family, my soul sister, my favorite tattoo shop, and some seriously
superfluous grass (legal variety). As far as roots go, mine are about as essential
as anyone else’s; but I had found myself flowering up in surprisingly different
hues in contrast with my environment. With the help of a couple of gentle pairs
of hands (my parents) and a shiny little garden hoe (my parents’ money), I
pulled myself up and out of Buffalo to replant myself in New York. At the mere
suggestion of moving back north, I would grip my cozy new ground with stunning
tenacity for a flower. Hell, no, I wasn’t going back. That will never change.
What
did change was my appreciation for that old garden – that small, weird suburb
where the only thing more exciting than the burgeoning malls were the llamas
that lived around the corner (yes, llamas). During my short weekend visit, I
had a beautiful heart-to-heart with Mom. We talked about girly stuff: work,
health, boys, and, more excitingly, girls.
“I see pretty
a woman, at work or something, and I can appreciate her. I can’t help but think
that, we women, we’re all in this together.”
I grew
wide-eyed as she said this. I had never heard her talk like this. It couldn’t
have been more than a month ago when I had said the exact same words when going
off on a small philippic about burlesque. At that moment I thought, “Oh, now this makes sense.” That admiration
for and affinity with each and every burlesque dancer I’ve ever seen on stage,
that must have come from somewhere.
In a
recent interview, Little
Motown remarked on that same quality: “It’s given me community, more than
anything else. I think it attracts really cool and supportive people…. I don’t
think that any other thing ever has as much support as burlesque. I want
everyone who goes on the stage to do really well, and they want me to do well.
And we want to celebrate each other.” Hell, yeah.
Even so
far as it is a Do-It-Yourself scene, New York City burlesque is a community of
co-performers. Variety certainly is the spice of a burlesque show, along with a
decent amount of tassel twirling, tease, and stripping. It is never a one-woman
or one-man show. Yet at the same time, each performer quite literally gets her
chance in the spotlight where a good audience will whistle, shout, and purr for
him or her. It’s theater with a welcome twist. Politeness is frowned upon, so
no need to sit still and quiet in your seat for a couple hours or more. Of
course, there are rules to be followed, such as don’t talk through the act, don’t
take unauthorized pictures, don’t text, and don’t touch – the performers or
yourself. It is theater, after all.
But
when it comes down to it, New York City burlesque exists on such a spectrum
that people from many walks of life can come down and enjoy a show. There are
divey bars, underground secret backrooms, hotel theaters, and VIP-lofted venues.
I know I do not speak alone when I say that I am happy to see burlesque
widening further into the “upscale” end of the spectrum. The reason is simple:
while the cheap shows can be incredibly fun and interactive, the more costly
shows give performers a well-deserved payment. As the DIY component is a huge
part of the fun to be had, it can also be both time and money consuming to put
together an act, complete with costume, make-up, choreography, music, and/or
concept. Madame
Rosebud pointed out something equally as crucial: “If people pay more for
something, they’ll treat it better.”
As I
near the half-way point in my project on New York City burlesque, I can say
that I’m happy with the overall direction it’s taken, and look forward to
meeting, talking with, and learning from other performers over the next few
weeks. Next up is World Famous *BOB*’s Coney
Island Drag Race, and an ensuing interview. Gold, gold, gold my friends.
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