I’ve been familiar with Dita von Teese since her Marilyn Manson days, but it’s only after attending a burlesque show at the iconic Parisian Crazy Horse a couple of years ago that I discovered that it’s an art form that delights both the feminist and bisexual in me, and that I started paying attention to her career for her own sake, and admiring her for single-handedly reviving an almost dead art. So when her first ever European tour of her show The Art of the Teese was announced, I just had to treat myself to a ticket!

I went in mostly blind, not knowing how the show would be structured or even how many different acts she had brought along, and I was surprised by how hilarious a lot of it was. We were led through the evening my Jonny McGovern, a flamboyant bear with a lusciously deep voice and a giant diamond flower brooch attached to the lapel of his tux, which “Dita picked from her own garden“, who welcomed all “ladies and gentlemen, and everyone in between, whatever your gender fluidity requires“. He asked us if we were ready to have a “sexy, seductive, sultry, sizzling good time“, and punctuated his speech by opening a fan with “YASSS” written on it (he had a different one for every interlude, with different phrases, and they got bigger every time!). This opening monologue was by far my favorite of the night, he did a great job getting the audience worked up. He said that this was a safe place where “gawking, gaping, ogling, and objectifying” was allowed and encouraged, as well as “hooting, hollering, gasping, whistling and catcalling“. If things got too hot, “oxygen masks will fall from the ceiling—ladies, please help your husbands and boyfriends first; Gays—please help the Straights; Lesbians—y’all are in charge of everything. In the case of an emergency, find your nearest lesbian and hold on tight, they always know what to do“.

Without much further ado, the curtain opened on Dita’s first act, a variation of her iconic Martini Glass routine in a bubbly Champagne Glass—I would’ve assumed that this would be the act for the grand finale as it’s her signature one, as well as wet and rather sticky! She stood in a full-length, long-sleeved gown studded with Swarovski crystals so sparkly that it almost hurt to look at her, flanked by her “Vontourage”, Elio Martinez from Puerto Rico and Alex Palinski from Poland, who joined her in all her acts, and whose sole purpose it was to look dapper and receive the offerings of her discarded garments. It’s immediately clear why Dita is considered the queen of the modern burlesque revival, and why it’s so much more than a striptease. With her porcelain skin, blood-red lips and ebony hair she perfectly embodies both Old Hollywood and pin-up glamour, and despite the big audience, she has a way to sweep the crowd with such an inviting and defiant look that will draw you in and make you feel just how empowering the act of standing on that stage is.

The next act was Texan Ginger Valentine, who was already scantily clad to begin with, and, fitting her stage name, performed a new version of Dita’s “My Heart belongs to Daddy” act, in which she struck a series of pin-up poses with some impressive splits inside a giant heart-shaped iron scaffold while taking off her heels and few garments off until she was left wearing nothing but sparkly heart-shaped nipple pasties.

Aussie Zelia Rose was the next act, and is perhaps the only star of the evening who really deserves to be called a burlesque dancer—the crowd was riotous watching her energetic choreography, and I for one appreciated that the show was already starting to be more diverse in skin and body types, with a performer of African-Spanish descent and almost no boobs to speak of.

Gia Genevieve, a Playboy Cover Girl and blonde bombshell very reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, was next up. She started out in a see-through baby-blue lounge gown with fur trimmings, before ending up in a sparkling bubble bath. She was doubtlessly the crowd favorite after Dita herself, and while she’s not my type, she was without a doubt the most sensual of all the performers by a long, long shot (and, from a purely technical staging point, I was honestly impressed by the running water in the middle of the stage).

McGovern had unfortunately run out of witticisms by this point (there was a pretty funny bit at one point about the show being nothing but very expensive, two hour long foreplay so we could go home feeling horny and adventurous), and ruined the mood by singing a song dedicated to the ladies in the audience, about the importance of not falling in love with a homosexual, which was funny for about three or four verses but then just kept going.

The first half of the show ended with another Dita number, the glamorous “Lazy”, an act originally created for her shows at the Crazy Horse in Paris almost a decade ago. She wards off calling suitors while getting interrupted reading a book titled “1001 Advanced Sexual Positions“, and it featured a recorded version of Dita herself singing a song best known as sung by Marilyn Monroe in There’s No Business Like Show Business.

The highlight of the evening came after the intermission, with an absolutely stunning rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, starring Dita, who once referred to herself as a “failed ballerina”, as the Black Swan. Most of this act was performed en pointe in Louboutin ballet shoes, and the whole choreography and strip was nothing short of breathtaking, with some lovely use of light and shadow for the finale.

McGovern had become rather tiresome by this point, and again ruined the mood by taking selfies with the audience and encouraging the males in the audience to “slide into his DMs” with dick pics. Jett Adore was the next act, and the only male performer of the evening—I didn’t know Dita’s show featured “boylesque” acts as well, and I’m glad he was the only one. While all the ladies had a certain poise and elegance in each of their acts, his Zorro-striptease was completely ludicrous, but perhaps that was the intended effect. I’ve just never been interested in seeing something like the Chippendales, and his act was pretty much exactly what I imagine those shows to be like. It certainly rattled the male audience who had come for the naked ladies, and McGovern had a pretty funny bit about fragile masculinity.

The final non-Dita act was curvy New Yorker Dirty Martini, who ended her strip by showing off her impressive tassle-twirling skills. I can’t even leave the house wearing bright red lipstick without being hyper-conscious of it and feeling like I’m cosplaying Pennywise the Dancing Clown, yet this bodacious plus-sized performer was up there doing her thing and getting the audience all riled up—I wish I had an ounce of her confidence!

Before the final Dita act, McGovern mused on how world peace could so easily be attained if Dita got to flash her titties in war zones, and that perhaps she should be voted US President, because anything is better than what they have going on right now.

On that political note, the show ended on the all-American Rhinestone Cowgirl act. She takes off her hot pink, sparkly garments and toy pistol-holster (which, to my bad eyes, seemed to have lipsticks as bullets), before riding a pink mechanical bull (operated by Ginger Valentine) with sparky horns, and being showered in a sea of sparkly confetti for the finale. Sparkle and glitter as far as the eye can see! I hadn’t been looking forward to this act, because from pictures it seemed dangerously close to the same kind of ludicrousness I disliked in Jett Adore’s act, but Dita’s confidence made it an absolute success, and the very varied audience rewarded her with an enthusiastic standing ovation at the end.

I went into the show thinking that it’d be a bucket list item to tick off, but if she were to come back with a different revue, I doubt that I’d be able to resist attending again! While all her “support acts” were talented in their own way, there’s something about the way Dita carries herself that not one of them got close to (except perhaps Gia), and they only made it clear by contrast just why she’s considered the uncontested Queen of Burlesque. I left the venue with a spring in my step, and holding my red-lipsticked head higher than when I went in—I should make it a habit to take a page from Dita’s book and own my femininity with pride.