I went to a burlesque show last night, part of the grand opening celebration of a diner. Perhaps an atypical way to introduce a business to a neighborhood, but entirely appropriate for its location. I was expecting something between a striptease and a Rockettes show, but the performance was...wittier than that. Sure, there were pasties and thongs and fishnet stockings, but there were also artistry and humor. One of the acts was an "old lady" with a cane, who started off with These Boots Are Made For Walkin', hobbling around, scowling, and pointing fingers accusingly into the crowd...until the song changed, she wheeled back, dropped her cane, and peeled off her housecoat to reveal a negligee, etc. Another girl, dressed as Cookie Monster, came onstage to Rehab and disdained the carrots she was given in favor of mainlined refrigerated cookie dough.
I don't object to strip clubs, although I feel for women who feel they have no better work prospects, or who end up there by virtue of abuse or self-esteem issues. Strip club performances are definitely designed to appeal to men, however (even the ones I've seen at gay clubs), whereas these women seemed to tailor their acts to their own enjoyment -- at least in part. Maybe there is something intrinsically demeaning about shaking one's ass for a crowd, but women are subjected to that kind of ogling constantly, and I think maybe it's empowering to select the circumstances, time, and place (and outfit?). Furthermore, burlesque shows seem to celebrate feminine curves, where strip clubs generally favor toned, taut, lean, and surgically enhanced bodies. Outside of the locker room at the gym, one rarely encounters nude women being...athletic...and undeterred by cellulite and other imperfections. Airbrushed glossies are so misleading. And depressing.
In honor of breaking our typically reclusive weeknight routine, I wore my knee-high black boots -- still with jeans, but it felt more appropriate than sneakers. Girly clothes require so much more attention and posturing than androgynous clothes. I can get away with a couple of inches of air between my knees in scrubs, but it's much more noticeable (and therefore whore-ish) when I've put an iota of effort into my attire. I honestly find it rather exhausting to maintain the crossed ankles, straight-backed, demure posture, especially in a hot, crowded room of catcalling strangers. I imagine one becomes accustomed to it after a while, but it draws such a parallel to a coming-of-age rite of passage, when a child is suddenly deemed an adult and must immediately change lifestyles. No more playing for you, missy! It's time to wash the dishes and settle down to your sampler! (I actually enjoy needlework, but it's such an easy target here.)
I have one remaining question: presumably a parade of nude women produces some arousal in a crowd of heterosexual males, correct? So I can't help but wonder how they can discreetly readjust to eliminate potential discomfort. Maybe there's a tumescence wriggle similar to the strapless bra adjustment to correct the situation. And what about when they need to walk to the bar? Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day?
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