Adventures in Burlesque

“I can’t find it!”

These words were the first indicator that I was about to attend a burlesque show.

I was on the verge of killing Emma for losing the tickets. You see, we were in Edinburgh, back in 2006. Emma, Maddie and I were attending our first Fringe Festival and we were having the most amazing time. Everything was new and vibrant. Everything was exceptional.

And then Emma lost her tickets to a comedy improv show, one I’d been dying to see.

Standing outside the venue, bereft at what was happening, I contemplated what we were going to do that evening.

“How about going to that burlesque show? It’ll be on in a bit.”

I don’t remember who said this, but in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Maddie and Emma had been so excited when, earlier that day, someone on the street handed us a flyer for a burlesque show. It was called “Warming her pearls” and showed two flawless-looking, buxomly seductive women wrapped in an embrace.

I remember pointing out to my giggling companions that, unfortunately, the burlesque was on at the same time as the comedy show for which we had just bought tickets.

Now, you make up your own mind as to whether Emma really lost her tickets or “lost” them. Either way, we ended up standing outside a doorway on a cold, Edinburgh street, before extravagantly dressed people ushered us downstairs.

What followed was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. It was silly, ridiculous and full of colour and music. The expressions on the burlesque players are still burned upon my memory; they looked like they were having more fun than all of the audience combined. Their joy was infectious and we were sad to leave it behind when the show finished.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to. We were one of the last tables to leave and, as we sat there, a member of staff came over and asked if we were there for the cabaret afterwards. Sadly, we hadn’t bought tickets and so got up to go. Maybe they were short of audience members or maybe she was just nice, but the staff member told us not to worry and just to stick around.

We left at 3 am, four hours or more after first arriving and having enjoyed the actors’ after show frivolity, too.

It is, by far, one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.

The reason I mention all this is so that you understand the fondness I have for this kind of entertainment, how any burlesque show I now see has a lot to live up to in the face of these memories. Last week, for Maddie’s birthday, we enjoyed an Afternoon Tease at Volupté. They’re located down a little side street just past Chancery Lane tube station (http://www.volupte-lounge.com/), which just adds to the fun of feeling like you’re discovering something no one else has.

To give you an idea of what the whole afternoon was about, let me just say that they make the best cocktails ever. Decadent little cocktails made from freshly smushed ingredients in front of our eyes gave us a hint of the indulgence to come.

And by God, was there indulgence. The lovely thing about the place is that people are encouraged to dress up in 20s or 40s dress. The effort our fellow diners had put into curling their hair or searching out authentic vintage dresses put me to shame. I had gone for an evening dress approach. Let me tell you this – evening dresses on the Shenfield to London trains do not go down well with bemused fellow passengers.

Anyway, a member of staff escorted us from the bar to our table. The restaurant and performance area were atmospherically lit, with room for about 100 people. The idea is to serve you a high tea in these surroundings whilst performers come on stage at various intervals.

The food was delicious and, despite Maddie’s increasing demands for scones and other food as quickly as possible (try to imagine a pixie screaming for clotted cream and you have a good idea), they were worth the wait. We were kept amused by the antics of our ninja burlesque waiters, stealthily cleaning our tables whilst we weren’t looking (“I’ll just tidy up the…HOLY SHIT, where did the used plates go?!”). Some people may think a cream tea during a burlesque show sounds like an odd combination, but there is a weird feeling of sophistication one feels eating cream scones whilst watching a woman dance around with pasties and fishnets on.

The performers were by turns funny, titillating or both. The first act was an angst-ridden character called La Poule Plombée, created by Sarah-Louise Young. I think Maddie and I were the only ones laughing at this tortured French singer’s lines about self-harming and open wounds, but everyone generally enjoyed her darkly humourous songs and digs at “hooker” Edith Piaf’s relative success to hers (“She was the little sparrow, uh? I am La Poule Plombée: the frumpy pigeon!”).

There were two main burlesque acts: Kiki Kaboom and Tallulah Tempest. Tallulah performed a feathered fan dance, mostly en pointe, which looked painful yet energetic. She captivated the room as no one could take their eyes from the sight of the burleque dancer ballet-dancing around, slyly revealing and then covering her skin with giant ostrich feather fans.

Kiki Kaboom was on twice. Whilst her geek to freak routine (where she slowly transformed from a 50s-looking geeky girl to a black corset-clad temptress, gyrating to the sounds of “Superfreak”) was fun, her Judy Garland tribute was most memorable. Kiki quickly moved from miming an early recording of Garland discussing her Dorothy audition, to popping pills in reference to Garland’s long battle  with addiction to prescription drugs. It was a sight to behold, as was Kiki stripping down to a silver corset and red heart pasties, singing “That’s Entertainment!” whilst wrapped in the American flag.

It’s one of those things you know you’re unlikely to see ever again.

All the way through, there were also some “Gateaux Vivants”. Tableux vivants are “living pictures, costumed people who stand, often in striking poses, without moving. In our case, the theme was cakes, and so we were treated to the sight of a striking redhead coyly covering herself with baking books, a mixing bowl and, at the end, cherry bakewell tarts.

What impressed me was how many women were there. Some were there for birthday parties, another for a hen do. There is nothing really erotic or sleazy about it; it’s just some fun, naughty but nice.

As I left the club that afternoon, I recalled the joy I had felt upon leaving the Edinburgh show, the night we walked up to the top of a stupidly high hill and gazed out at the city until 6 am.

I don’t often focus on the good times – it’s nice to be reminded every now and again that something in the present can jolt those memories so vividly back to life.