A New Old Burlesque

Headlining the Burlesque-a-pades the World Famous Pontani Sisters

 The Ottobar, the best small venue in Baltimore, hosted The Burlesque-A-Pades on February 12th. As an admitted adult entertainment elitist with a desire to reform my snobby ways I bought tickets for the event, sight unseen, and committed to going with an open mind and a prayer they wouldn't remind me of my dull and uninspired Suicide Girl experience of years previous.

  The only pre-screening I did was check the names of the performers before buying the tickets. The World Famous Pontani Sisters, Ms Tickle and "Special Guests" were as specific as the flyer got, but armed with my historical knowledge of good burlesque names and faith that there really could be an original form of burlesque still out there my husband and I took the chance.

  The Ottobar is a two level club with a punk rock bar up a deathly flight of stairs and a full stage and great sound system on the first level. It's not a place you want to linger on the furniture or lick the drop of tequila off the tip of your finger without a hand washing first. It's a great neighborhood bar that does their own musical and entertainment thing. Some nights you may hit a mirror image crowd cooly bobbing to New Wave or, like February 12th, a mid-size crowd of average thirty-something professional types looking for an evening of naughty distractions. To my surprise there was even a large gaggle of cackling middle age office women drunk off their asses and loudly crowing through the whole thing. I must say that they had the rudest show form I've seen since my Phish days and I only hope that my nights out with the girls never turn into drunken egg laying sessions when I'm forced to face the reality of getting older.

   Mostly the crowd was a very quiet paired off mix of large and small hetero couples who may not be brave or interested enough to go to a strip club, but appreciated the art and style of a sensual strip tease. It was a far leap from the Suicide Girl's "burlesque" that took place in the same club a few years ago. The crowd was sold out pushed chest to back, heavy drinking, girls in black dresses with red cherry patterns and peroxide hair. Each person at that event showed up to preform their own sensual show in a place where it was inevitable their look would blend right in and be appreciated by all the other "alternative beauty" girls and the slobbering boys that tagged along with the understanding that someone's drunk chubby friend with heaving cleavage and a cherry bow would eventually feel left out and let them in on some action to ease her self image. By the third or fourth heroin addict skinny, tattooed and pierced dancer that came out with electrical taped nipples (it seemed like breasts were optional at this event) and stuck her crotch out into the face of a squealing audience member we left.

Just two of the legions of Suicide Girls out there. They are showing off what I consider their "stripper-lesque" stylings. Frowning pout is a must, but rhythm and individuality are optional.

 I left that show so disappointed that I vowed to continue my work on burlesque research and I wasn't going to stop looking for the "real" modern thing even if I had to make it happen myself. The origins of burlesque didn't even involve the revealing removal of clothing. It was a protest to the prissy Victorian era, but despite the lack of nudity and addition of Progressive morality it evolved from Britain to America as a sensual and artful act of blue balling whole audiences of horny sailors and businessmen. If it took a burlesque dancer five minutes to take off one glove...the audience just showed that much more appreciation when it was tossed to the stage only for the dancer to begin again with the other. The acts differed in sexual intensity from town to town and girl to girl. The Block housed a diverse collection of clubs that encouraged all things from full (illegal) nudity to The 2 O'Clock Club of the 1920's and 30's that boasted tango acts alongside solo showgirl teases. Each girl was forced to define her own image, unique act and set out each time with a magnetic smile and razor wit.

   It's not for me to define what burlesque must be in order to meet "traditional" criteria because there was never just one method of taking off clothes and tantalizing lonely men. Some women don't even need to be in the same room to get a man randy while others prefer to have him wear her like a mink stole and ply her with expensive champagne as a flirtation. It's no different than today.

   Blaze Starr often spoke of how much she loved being a stripper. She talked about how much she loved making men crazy with desire with her unique and creative stage performances and then being able to leave them steaming as she went behind the curtain. Starr understood and appreciated her looks and sexuality from a young age and rather than find her choice of careers shameful she lived it to the extremes, bought her own strip club and happily laughed at the opposition. It wasn't a way to feed her kids, or get her fix or find a man. Her dancing was an art form, a career, and that's how she always preformed and became "The Queen of Burlesque" and "The Pride of Baltimore." If a show doesn't meet the standards Blaze Starr set for herself then I don't consider it real burlesque. Suicide Girls knew they had a desired look, used their body to tease, but missed the subtle nuances of making sex tantalizing without ever having to try. It was their vehicle for attention, not for art or career. Don't get me wrong...as strippers I would have been glued to the stage, but as performers they needed to learn their sex history.

* FULL DISCLOSURE: Yes, I am a cranky bitch that writes exactly what I think. BUT...contrary to common belief I am NOT judging anyone in my posts. Even middle age chicken women deserve to party.  It's just that all of us humans are so damn funny to watch it would be a shame not to write it all down. If you want history and observation that's neat and clean watch The History Channel. Don't waste your time letting my babble piss you off.

   I have a litany of personal failures and weaknesses I would be more than happy to disclose to any curious reader as an attempt to prove my humility. Just a few examples: I love New Kids on The Block, I religiously watch Dancing with the Stars...and vote, I spend more time with my cats than with other humans, it took me ten years to get my Bachelor's degree....ok? ok? Can you see me for the weak and feeble human being I really am? My insults don't hurt so much anymore do they?

                                              History and Sin are all in good fun.

An original Femme Fatale and star of burlesque. Ms. Tickle is a must see for any true historian of sex culture.