International London Burlesque Festival
Bush Hall, London

AS SOON as I stepped through the doors and saw a woman with bright red lipstick and 1950s coiffed hair, I knew it would all end in tassels. The recent International London Burlesque Festival (the second) saw a battle royale in which 30 new burlesque acts competed for the title of best newcomer. Burlesque is an art form, which is entirely unpredictable yet shackled by convention. As soon as anyone steps on stage, it is clear what is going to happen. But, in the anticipation and performance of the inevitable, anything is possible.

The phenomenal rise of burlesque over the past years has been propelled by its popularity among women. There were men in the room, but mostly they were under the protective wing of female friends. It was girls’ night.

There was a great community spirit between the audience and the performers. Lining up for the bathroom, it was impossible to know one from the other. It turned out that the young woman in the rubber corset was part of the next act, but the one in a swimsuit and fishnets had just come to watch. There was a girlish conspiracy – giggling and knowing.

The audience exuded a respect for its performers unlike any I have seen before. This was not intellectual appreciation or stupor in the face of skill, but a more personal respect. That these women are able to stand in front of a hall of strangers, undress, and be both funny and sexy is a feat deserving of respect.

Burlesque being, by definition, a variety performance, the performances were varied. All, however, revelled in caricatures of constrained and subordinated female roles of the past. Bespectacled secretaries became wonder women. Airline stewardesses lazed over their trolley.

Last year’s winner took to the stage with long peroxide curls and glossy shopping bags. Her undressing came early and she soon stood alone and naked, except for the face of Victoria Beckham pasted on her nipples and that of Posh’s husband over the front of her underwear.

While burlesque has its own strong aesthetic, it is not prohibitive. Throughout the evening a democracy of bodies undressed themselves on stage. Every kind of modern sin – small breasts, flabby arms and wide hips – was laid bare in the spotlight. The tyranny of the body perfect was lifted for a moment while the body alive and beautiful reigned before fellow citizen-queens. Burlesque satirises the pressures on modern women by deconstructing and basking in those placed on women in past decades. But more than that, it’s a bloody load of fun.

There is a growing industry supporting the increasing popularity of burlesque. As satirical as it may be, it remains happily within the world of erotica. It is a fun and sophisticated branch of erotica, however, that encourages women to participate as consumers and producers and relegates the male eye to a secondary place while playing with what attracts it.

Celina Ribeiro