She wore an itty bitty, teeny weeny…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the size of my panties. Specifically, I’ve been considering what sort of bottoms will work best with an act I’m developing, and whether or not it matters to people — audience members, producers, festival bookers — whether or not I go VERY BARE or just SORT OF BARE.

I could not help but notice, performing out there on the festival circuit this year and sitting in the audience at BHOF in June, that most performers these days are choosing g-strings or merkins. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that seeing all those bare bums definitely influenced the g-string I chose for “The French Mademoiselle,” which is almost the exact color of my skin and embellished with honey-colored stones. It basically looks like I’m not wearing anything, which was the point.

But I’ll also admit that this isn’t entirely my style. I prefer a little more coverage, a little more high-waisted vintage-ness, and the option to wear fishnets/stockings on the days I am feeling less than svelte.

And that brings us to today, when I looked all over the Internet for something to wear under an elaborate robe. I searched high and low for high-waisted, nude-colored panties with fanciful cutouts or lace insets. I rejected dozens of vintage pairs (too baggy) and dozens of lace-up/strappy things that weren’t quite upscale enough for what I wanted. I ended up buying a pair of custom, nude chantilly lace tap pants from Etsy. I think they’ll be sexy, but will also make me feel more confident than the teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy bottoms that seem to be in vogue.

I still worry, though, that somehow my choice of undergarment is going to be disappointing to people. Is that weird? I’m sure you think I’m weird. And most of my burlesque friends are wondering why in the heck I even bothered to write this post, because of course I should perform in whatever I feel good in, and not bow to some imaginary g-string pressure.

But there are some of you out there — I KNOW THERE ARE — who wonder the same thing. Are festivals and producers looking for the nakedest girls around? Are we somehow hindering ourselves by choosing giant underpants, even if they’re gorgeous and provocative?

When all hope was lost

Not to sound all dramatic, but I had a major costuming breakthrough this weekend. After weeks — nay, months — of bitching and moaning about how I couldn’t find the perfect fabric for my new act, we have success!

That crappy plastic bag above holds eight yards of silk charmeuse, seven yards of silk chiffon, approximately eight yards of maribou, and the thread and other bits needed to get on with it. I would not be lying to say that Honey Penny (costumer extraordinaire) and I both jumped up and down, clapped our hands with glee, exchanged a high five, and hugged with great enthusiasm in the aisle of the Discount Fabrics.

Now I just need music, because the original track I had picked out isn’t going to cut it. (Which makes me oh-so sad, because it was discovered in a moment of perfect happiness.) After multiple listens, I just don’t think it has the drama that I’m looking for. There’s no climax, if you will, no crescendo.

Oh! Even as I type, I’m listening to something that might work. Love how that works out.

And then it wasn’t

Remember, just weeks ago, when I was SO EXCITED about putting on the show face (above) and getting back into things? I’m afraid that now I’m having a bit of a motivational problem.Which sucks.

How does it happen so fast, that one can go from being totally engaged in something to being totally turned off in a matter of moments? From burning with desire to create, to wanting to go back to bed and hide under the covers?And it’s not just about this silly website — though, certainly, I had intended to have galleries live long before now — it’s everything burlesque-related. I found the perfect music, and then stopped listening to it. I found the perfect pattern, and never cut it out. I had imagined the perfect reveal, and the perfect way I would remove my left stocking. (Yes, in my imaginings, I am OCD enough to pay attention to left versus right.) I was starting to plan for the perfect headpiece, one that would not require a wig, or any fancy hairstyling that I would never pull off on my own.

And that’s the problem, right? Ultimately I am a visual person (more on that at a later date) and I’m also a bit of a perfectionist. This means that even in concepting, I can hang myself up. Doom an act before it’s even an act.

This time, I can actually pinpoint the moments when things started to fall apart. In my head, my new costume is the perfect shade of nude. For me, that’s very pale with a touch of pink. I need something that will drape nicely for the dress, something that will be transparent to go underneath, and lingerie to go under that. I found the lingerie. It’s so, so, good, if a little bit too brown. But, whatev. I like it. For the life of me, though, I CANNOT find the other fabrics. And after the 452nd try, I got discouraged. If I don’t have the fabric, I can’t buy the shoes or rhinestones or bits and bobs for the hairpiece. I set myself a very specific timeline, and blew right past it, worrying about fabric.

Now, I realize that I can most likely solve this problem with fabric dye. This is not at all insurmountable. I work with an amazing costumer, and she is a dying wunderkund. What I’m talking about here is a complete inability to get out of my own way sometimes. It doesn’t help that my non-burlesque life is in a bit of an upheaval (new boss, physical therapy, changing relationships). There’s just too much going on in my head up there.

What I need is a burlesque fairy, someone to kick me in the ass when I get like this. Any takers?