Last night was the closing of Capital and Visual Fringe, and I went to see the Cheeky Monkey Sideshow-- one of the final perforamces of the festival. I've been so mad busy that it ended up being the only performance of the festival that I caught.
It was entertaining. I'd seen almost all of the performers before in other shows, but they put on a good show. But I was also completely distracted by a couple sitting in the front row, and not far from where I was sitting. She was wearing undergarments. As outer garments. Or, since I don't think she had anything on underneath them, as only garments. That would be a bustier a la Madonna in the Like a Virgin video (and being able to make this comparison based on my recollection of the video from when it was new on MTV makes me feel old), and a slip. A slip with lacy edges. But a slip. The kind of thing you put on under your skirt both to make it so that you can't see the dots on your underpants, and also to keep your skirt from getting all static clingy with your pantyhose. Remember when we used to wear pantyhose? Jesus, am I glad that it has become okay to shun those things. Even if it has been more than six weeks since I had my legs waxed.... I need to make an appointment....
Right. So undergarments as onlygarments. And heeled clear plastic jelly flip flops. She also had some really rad cat eye rhinestone glasses. I've always wanted a pair for my regular glasses. But whenever I see a pair in a vintage shop and try them on I'm reminded that I looked bloody awful in cat eye glasses, rhinestones or no. She was pulling them off, though, even if her outfit was distracting me. But her outfit was not half as distracting as her man. Who was very loud. And when entreated, for the calmness of WolfGirl, to pipe down, he became louder. People were looking.
I mean, I'm not really one to care if people are looking. (See here.) But we are talking about a theater full of people who have paid to see something called the Cheeky Monkey Sideshow. Like the New Vaudeville and the New Burlesque, New Sideshow combines both the real thing (laying on beds of nails, swordswallowing, hammering nails into one's nose) with the knowing fun-poking stuff at the hokey-ness of sideshows past (the WolfGirl sings a jazz ballad). In short, this is a room full of people who aren't the people are looking kind. And they were looking.
When the fire eater came out he really lost it. No longer able to control himself, every time her tongue touched flame he moaned like he was just on the verge of orgasm. "mmmmmMMMMMMM....oh yeah..... mmmmmmMMMMMMM.....uuuuuuuhhhhhhh.... yeahyeahyeah....yeah.... oh baby...." Yowzers. Perhaps he has a sideshow fetish? It was a little weird being brought into someone else's fetish, you know, without there being a conversation about it. I mean, is there a safety word?