It’s appropriate that as I take my seat ahead of this saucy teasefest that is Australian burlesque at its best, a red feather gently sashays its way from above and into my lap. An escapee, no doubt, from a feather boa gracing the neck of some sex kitten about to tantalise audiences with her womanly wonders. I’ve always preferred the implied to the contrived, which is why I’m not necessarily the hugest fan of art forms like pole dancing and strip tease – but I’ve always admired the burlesque performers for their ability to revive a seemingly extinguished art form and for their celebration of the female body in all its forms. But as I settle into the performance, I soon learn that burlesque is about so much more than that, from what would seem an unlikely source – a bloke.
