It's not all corsets and garter belts...

Say the word “burlesque” and most people think of corsets and garter belts and not much else. I do, anyway. I also think of Cher and Christina Aguilera. I confess to having never given much thought to the definition of the actual word. So, it was interesting to find myself once again enlightened by my old friend, Google, that burlesque is actually an absurd or comically exaggerated imitation of something, especially in a literary or dramatic work; in short, a parody, stemming from the Italian word burlesco, with its root word burla which means ‘mockery’.* Burlesque also refers to variety shows, usually including striptease – this being the aspect of burlesque with which the masses are undoubtedly more familiar.

So when I said I was going for a burlesque party, most people conjure up images of a wild party with excessive drinking and indiscriminate sexual activity.** At least I assume that is what they do, if their reactions were anything to go by. Despite my protests that it was really not like that, a good majority of them, I assume, remain unconvinced. Not that I was really in a position to protest; I had hitherto never been to one such burlesque party myself. My information was second hand. A friend of mine had been several times and told tales, not of uninhibited orgies, rather of elaborate costumes and clean (mostly) and harmless (it’s up to you) fun (if you wanted it). And because each event was themed, the costumes were not necessarily all fishnets and leather straps either. Vampires and zombies, and Victorian ladies complete with a parasol have been known to make an appearance, or so I had heard. And of course, there is a lot of skin on display, but I’ll get to that.  

Copenhagen Grotesque Burlesque

And so it was, the month of February found me preparing for the Copenhagen Grotesque Burlesque party. It is an event which is on twice a year, in February and August. I had got a ticket for the event the year before and was well in the costume creating mode, when I was struck down by the flu. I ended up having to sell my ticket at a loss and missing the event. My half-made costume lies sadly in an old supermarket carrier bag in a drawer, waiting for a chance to be revived. I was determined to make it this year. 

Black-veined swan

The theme this year was Delusional Fairy Tales: Garden of the Grimm and the Graceful. Incorporating aspects of the costume I was making for the previously party, while drawing inspiration from my sister’s raven costume for a fancy dress party and a youtube video I stumbled across, I was a black veined swan. It is not a character from any fairy tale I know of, but I reckon it could be. The Grimm brothers have The Six Swans, granted that the girl did not turn into a swan, but oh well… that is the delusion! There was no need for the costume to be based on a particular character anyway. I bought two short skirts from a charity shop and incorporated one into the other to make a single skirt with more volume, which resulted in the skirt looking rather ballet-esque. I bought two feather bands, one to go around my shoulders as wings, and another around my neck from a delightful online gothic shop (and a delightfully gothic online shop) called DeadDoll's Needful Things. I made a feather wrist bracelet out of feathers, some cloth and a satin ribbon. And a black corset-esque top, I already had.

Make-up

Inspiration for the make-up was a random video created by someone called Celina*** which I came across while trawling for ideas. She made it look easy in the video. Following her instructions as best I could, I layered on foundation a few shades lighter than my actual skin tone to create the ‘paled-out’ look. I actually also applied foundation on my chest and upper arms to even out the tone, but did not apply as heavy a layer, which meant that it did not last very long. The veins took more practice. The first time I tried, they looked more like tree roots. But after a few times, I decided I got the hang of it, and am not displeased with how it turned out on the night, though one branch or other did retain a somewhat botanic quality, if you ask me. Unfortunately, despite the mist I sprayed on it to hold the make up in place, the veins smeared quite a bit, especially where my coat (which I had on in transit) and the ribbon from the feather band around my neck rubbed against it. I suppose I could have got a proper fixer, but did not really want to spend any more than was strictly necessary. Still, I was more veined than not on the journey home at 5 am, so I really did not fare too badly. A bit of smeared make up and a lost feather were my losses for the night. 

Orphaned sunglasses #1

Others at the party might have had more to complain about. At some point during the night, I found an orphan pair of sunglasses and so charitably took them in and added it to my costume. And so it was that my black veined swan morphed into a steam punk swan. By the end of the night, I had taken in another stray pair of sunglasses and a top hat, and found a alternative home for a red blazer - it did not fit me.

Mostly clean

As for the party itself, anyone who was in search of any indiscriminate sexual activity would have been bitterly disappointed. Or they must have had some special radar on a whole different frequency, and found a whole different room in the establishment, because I managed to completely miss it all. The event was in a club, so there was a main area where the bars and what I would call the main dance floor were. There was an upper level, where a photo booth was set up. There were a few other rooms with different things. One room was filled strips of white cloth strung from the ceiling and dry ice, so that you could barely see anything other than what was right in front of you. That room I liked, though I did get a bit claustrophobic for a bit in there and had to go sit down in the corner, where I found some abandoned chocolates. I had earlier been offered a taste of some home brewed "magic potion" by a guy dressed as some kind of travelling apothecary (??). I politely declined, not wanting to make the news for being that person to be found in some back alley in Copenhagen after having accepted an unknown drink from a stranger. It was probably fine. I rationalised that the chocolates were probably all right since it was only a small piece and ...I was suddenly hungry. I took a tiny bite, all the while thinking of Hansel & Gretel and that episode of Sherlock where the two kids were kidnapped and fed chocolate in a mercury laced wrapper. Thankfully, the chocolate had marzipan in it, so I spat it out and discretely hid it in a corner, mentally patted myself on the back for being retrospectively sensible and carried on about my way. There was something else in that I liked, but I will keep that for myself. Can’t be just going around telling everything!

Where was I? Oh yes, the party was mostly clean. I did not notice any hanky panky. Well, not more than in any other club really. Of course, there were couples making out here and there, but I rather suspect they were actually a couple who came together, and did not, as such, hook up there. In fact, I would even say that it was a lot cleaner than an average club on a Saturday night. It seemed that most of the people who were there were there for the sake of dressing up; the chance to go all out with dressing up, wear their underwear in public and show a bit (or a lot) of skin without any judgement or unwanted attention. I doubt many people there were really hoping to score. Perhaps they were, but there was also quite big a risk of ruining their or someone else’s costume if there was too much physical contact! I also suspect that there were possibly more gay men there than straight men. Perhaps also because it was Copenhagen and they were mostly Danes, speaking Danish, so I basically tuned out every one else around me because I decided that did not understand them anyway. So perhaps there was more going on than I had realised, but that I had just tuned it out. Nevertheless, all of that results in my impression that no one was out to cop a feel or trying to pull any move or anything. Well, almost no one, but well you know, there are knob-heads everywhere, even where you would least expect it. I felt far less preyed on there as I have felt in many a club.

And all skin on display was somehow not a big deal at all. And there was a lot of skin on display. This is after all, Europe; Scandinavia. Scandinavian are not known for their prudishness. Many women wore corsets, thongs and garters; some had only body paint on their breasts; one had a feather boa intended to be strategically placed, but I think her double-sided tape lost its stickiness very early in the evening; I swear there was a guy who was wearing nothing but tights (skin toned or see through, I did not inspect too closely) and suspenders of some description. So, a lot of skin. But no one seemed to be staring, or groping, or anything really. It was really just not a big deal. 

We drank, we danced, and we fell over ourselves laughing. I did, anyway. As a party, it was good fun. More so because of the incredible costumes on display. My personal enjoyment of it was definitively increased a hundred fold by the build-up of creating a costume and slowly watching it come together in the weeks preceding. Would I go again? I don’t know, but mostly because of external factors. All else aside, I would definitely like to. Without a doubt.  

*http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/burlesque

** Oxford dictionary definition of ‘orgy’
*** http://fablesinfashion.com/