All-Con All the Way!

I am recovering from an All-Con weekend. For the uninitiated, it's a convention that supports Science Fiction, Fantasy, Renaissance, Anime, Costuming, Theater, etc. I'm talking Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter nerds.

Anyways, All-Con has put us in charge of booking for the burlesque show every year, and this year had to be one of the best shows we put on for our fans. Jessica Rabbit, Marilyn Monroe, Bettie Page, Princess Leia, Poision Ivy were a few of the numbers that rocked the stage. The show is usually quick and easy; it's an hour and then we are done and excpected to hob-nob at the parties. I got to bed at 2 a.m., which is pretty early compared to the last fews years I have been doing All-Con. I believe last year I was up until 4 a.m.!

It's always interesting to me to return to work after a long weekend of burlesque escapades. I feel so inspired and the energy is busting at the seams. Like it is now. This is why I love doing what I do!

I started watching Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky on Netflix the other night. It’s a sumptuous film about the torrid love affair between Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel and composer Igor Stravinsky. The costumes spanned the fashion of the Belle Époque to the Golden Jazz Age. I’ve developed an envy for cloche and 1920’s style frocks. However, with my curvy figure, I would never be able to get away with wearing those frocks. This is just one of the few times I lament being cursed with this pin-up figure.


Yes, yes, I can hear my beloved and my friends exclaim, “but you have a perfect figure!”. Le sigh. I wished my bust was just a bit smaller. Actually, a lot smaller. My bust size has been moving up and down the alphabet. I think we are at “F” now. Anyhoo, not an idea figure for flapper frocks. The preferred figure back in those days were shapeless and boxy, the complete departure from the curvy hourglass figure created by the tight corsets and bustles. The beginning of the film shows Coco Chanel cutting the lacings from her corsets because she “wanted to breathe”. Ms. Chanel pioneered the look of “nonconformist” designs, stressing practicality and simplicity. There was also inspiration from menswear to make her couture comfortable and wearable, unlike corsets and the layers of material from a generation before. She also revolutionized the black dress, which she wore quite a bit in the film, with a long string of pearls.


So, back to my lamenting. I can’t wear any of the chic fashion of the era love adore so much. My Joan Holloway figure will have to settle for wiggle dresses. Really! That’s what they are called.

Obsessions

Anna Mouglalis as Coco Chanel

Exotic Soaps



Vintage shapewear


Cloches


Fox Trot bands and the Charleston



Red Lipsticks

Colourful macarons

Red pouty lips...

This morning I took an inventory of my collection of lipstick that I do every 6 months or so.

24.

No, not lipsticks. Red lipsticks. In every single shade.

Don’t get me started about the other colours. My husband asked me how many of the red lipsticks where the same colour. Because I’ve been known to buy more than one tube of the same lipstick. None, I said.

I have everything from MAC, Chanel, YSL, Lipstick Queen, Revlon, and Besame.

My current problem is that I don’t have enough occasions to wear my red lipstick. If it was up to me, I would wear it everyday.

The other day I got the confirmation that I will be performing in the Dallas Burlesque Festival at the House of Blues on Friday, January 21, 2011. That day will be my 4th anniversary as a burlesque performer. Seems a lot longer than that. I’m doing my signature number and the very first number in my repertoire, the Siren.

However, I think it’s time the Siren costume got a bit of a facelift. I’m going to revamp the pieces of the costumes. More rhinestones. New knickers. New gloves. It will be a work in progress.

Then again, all burlesque costumes are working progresses.


The Siren gown

You want how much for that??

I’ve been thinking about corseting again. I did it a few years ago; wearing my corset for 4 hours a day, 3 to 4 days a week and training my waist. That’s put me back in the mood for shopping for corsets. I have the usual places that I got to get mine custom made. But there is not place in Dallas to find these delicate objects.

I walked into Gregory’s at Northpark after seeing a couple of their corsets displayed.

I fondled the white brocade corset with lace trimming and an oddly placed chain. The boning was plastic and flimsy. There was nothing exciting about it. I could have every easily replicated this myself.

The Cadolle corset I was fondling at Gregory's. (Who ever put the image of this corset on the Gregory's website obviously put it up-sidedown.)

“These are made by Cadolle, the first French company that made bras,” exclaimed the salesgirl excitedly.

I glanced at the price tag. If I were sitting down, I would have fallen out of my chair. I had to do a double take…

$1,145.000? For that?! I chuckled.

For the price of that corset, I could have an entire burlesque costume made for me. Complete with rhinestones. Or two pairs of Louboutins. Or a pair of the largest ostrich feather fans. Or have my corset-makers custom make 4 steel-boned corsets, exact to my measurements.

Don’t get me wrong, Cadolle makes exquisite lingerie. But after a little digging around on the internet for similar corsets from the brand, I don’t see where it justifies the high price tag from Gregory’s. My conclusion is highway robbery.

Ah, but Gregory’s is not selling to someone like me. They are selling it to someone that without a second thought or question, drop the credit card for it and a few other things in the store. Ignorance is bliss.

I’ll stick to my custom corsets.

Here's looking at you, kid....

I go through hair phases. A few months ago I was achieving the Brigitte Bardot just-rolled-outta-bed hair do. Now it’s finger waves and pin curls. It has a lot to do with all the 20’s era movies that I have been watching as of late. Easy Virtue, Godsford Park, Chicago, and the Great Gatsby.

I’ve also been reading a lot about the flappers who propelled the fashion style. They were the rebels of the prohibition, women of easy virtues and loose morals. They drank, they smoked, they slept around and they were unapologetic about it.

They wore their hair in bobs, finger waved or Marcelled. They rejected the curvaceous hour-glass figures and corsets in favour of boyish structured frocks. Dark rimmed smoky eyes and deep wine pouts drawn into cupid’s bow. The Charleston was all the rage during this time of the jazz age. The flappers kicked their feet to the music with wild abandon, shocking the conservative generations before them. I’ve always wanted to be a flapper.

My great-grandmother used to tell me stories about “hanging out” with Elliot Ness and attending all those “wild” parties. My eyes would glaze over every time she talked about her younger days. My aunt always told me I was born in the wrong era. No kidding.

One evening recently, before Christmas, I was inspired to do my makeup a la Clara Bow, smoky plum eyes, dark berry lipstick drawn with slightly exaggerated cupid’s bow and tight pin curls. I topped my curls off with a raspberry felt beret. Louis (my partner in crime) and I walked into Nosh for dinner. He walked behind me and when we got to the table, he leaned over and said, “People are staring at you.” Not surprised.

What surprises me though is that you don’t see more of it here in Dallas. But then again, it’s not easy pulling off dark lipstick without looking too goth. And who wants to sit around for hours getting the pin curls down to bouncy curly-qs? And who wants to sit in front of a mirror making sure the cat eyeliner is even, perfect and Marilyn Monroe approved? And to spend an extra minute to put on those fluttery false lashes? And who wants to waste time making sure the seams on the stockings are straight against the gams?

I do. All of it.