Vaugely on an early morning facebook scroll I ran across an advertisement for a show that was upcoming. Dita Von Teese was on tour. I had recalled she toured a few years ago, but was under the impression she had hung up her pasties. I was pleased to see she would be hitting town again.
Thursday, February 02, 2017
In my haze I bought to tickets. I barely remembered the show was to take place on February 1st. Fortunately, my brain has never committed to an act of wanton debauchery and failed to remember it. I remembered it.
Dita, aside from being an amazing performer, is someone I have a lot of respect for as an artist. she has gone out of her way to maintain copyrights of her images and her performances. The woman wants to get paid, and she should be, she does great work. So, I was sure I was in for at least a certain amount of delight to be attending.
This show, unlike the Suicide Girls Burlesque, was a much more lavish affair. All the audience members came dressed in their best 1920's regale. So much hair in so many coiffed curls. So many men in tuxes with bowties. There were some dressed must as I was, in a more gothic splendor with corsets and dark eyes. There were the a few freaks, a few fags, a lot of lesbians and someone walking their date around on a leash. It was that sort of affair.
Unlike my usual mode, I only had tickets for the GA bar, rather than getting something in a box. The crowd was large, but not so large that I couldn't see the stage and couldn't see dita in all her fine sparkly glory.
I know Dita is a small woman, petite really, but somehow when she walked out on stage, completely lost in the shiniest sequins, she looked a thousand feet tall. She started with her most classic routine in the martini glass, with two handsome male back up dancers there to take away the trails of her garments as they left her flesh.
Each piece revealing just a touch more of her white, flawless skin. She is a sculpture on stage. Resplendent. Big band music is her background, with large have brass, and she moves beautifully to catch each beat of it. The audience whoops and catcalls and we could be in 1900's France, all of drunk on wine and hedonism and giving in to a libertine bent.
In that moment we lost the world outside and all it's darkness, revealing in a variety of bodies, of pretty girls and drag queens all working to entertain us. Sparkly lights shimming as much as the flesh that was dangled in front of us. It was moment were we all shared an appreciation of the human form as both angels and devils, saints and sinners. The music went from the catchy 20s brass to more reverential choir music, the announcer made us laugh stealing a kiss from a pretty girl. We were the best party.
It was the only party.
Dita knows how to put a party together.