Rich Fantasy Life
We went to a marvelous home-grown burlesque show last night and cheered ten courageous women. By day they’re ordinary folks: maybe a paralegal or a CEO. But for this night their alter egos went onstage with terrific costumes and great moves. They really worked it, and it was a hootin hollerin blast. Were they scared? Of course! but you’d never have known it by their acts. If a prop fell over, the dancer just retrieved it and went right on. Ditto a bra that wouldn’t unhook properly. You’d have thought they were pros, with just the right touch of twinkle and whimsey. Just such delightful fun.
I wore a long white satin nightgown that I cheerfully believed made me look like a 30s movie queen, or at least Jean Harlow’s elegant aunt. Oh, and white velvet bedroom slippers and a huge mabe pearl pendant. I was a vision, one way or another. I was a little nervous, but when we arrived at the venue and saw all the corsets and fishnet stockings in the support audience, I realized I needn’t have dithered about wearing it. Still, I got a little buzz of naughtiness knowing that under my white gown I was NUDE. Yes! Nothing on under my clothes. Then I realized, Hey, everybody’s nude under their clothes. BFD. Even so, I was awfully glad to have lost those eighteen-and-counting pounds.
Two other dear-friend couples went with us. I tried to talk my female buddies into taking the next how-to-burlesque class, but I think I was unsuccessful. One grinned and said, “You’re just trying to have a vicarious experience.” Bingo! I haven’t the knees or the nerve for it, but really really really wish I did. My stage persona would be named something like Solange LeRouge, and I’d have a fabulous back story. Oh, I do live such a rich fantasy life!
(signed) Solange
