Time To Put Your Glitter Where Your Mouth Is

--> If there’s one thing a 10^th anniversary inspires, it’s decadent* introspection. Having only recently celebrated my own Aluminum Anniversary in the ecdysiastical arts, I’ve been just full of Terribly Important And Insightful Musings That Are Definitely Worthy To Be Shared And You Know You Want To Hear Them, Too. But then I realized no one but me is really interested in my old-man rantings about Back when I started performing! You kids have it so easy! I once had to sell a kidney for a bag of rhinestones! - and, frankly, even I’m not so very interested myself that I can’t be easily distracted by a Love Boat rerun or a Tumblr full of bunnies or strippers or bunnies and strippers holy crap someone find me that Tumblr now. Move it along Margaret, it’s a new day, time marches on, innovate or die. So okay … except for one thing which hasn’t changed - and which, frankly, I’m just tired of hearing over and over and over again.

Art-strippers come and go but the complaining does not. Because we like to complain. We like to proclaim, and be clever, and point out the problems with “the community,” and tell each other how shows should be run and how performers should perform, and how festivals and competitions should be organized and crowns and titles should be awarded, and how producers and audiences and musicians and costumers and DJs and bartenders should behave and just exactly who should be allowed to do what; and sometimes a larger percentage of “the community” is in agreement over these shoulds, and more often they are not, but time and again over the last ten years I have read and I have heard (and I too have proclaimed) what should be done and what should be changed and that is followed almost immediately by a chorus of voices singing out:

“But a gig's a gig.”

“And I need the work.”

And this, right here, this is the crucial moment where the pause needs to happen and everybody but everybody needs to stop talking and get off the internet and put down the phone and go off alone onto a mountaintop or into a quiet locked room and really, really think. Because unlike the Muggle world in which jobs provide things like food and shelter but require a high degree of not-punching-that-asshole-district-supervisor-in-the-face, our Jellicle job is low on income and security but high on the not-having-to-put-up-with-civilian-bullshit-like-that-and-also-we-can-wear-boas-to-work scale. In exchange for never really making a living getting naked, we do actually have more freedom in certain areas; and therefore:

If you honestly and truly believe that a performance situation is wrong, professionally or morally (the facilities are inadequate, the pay is too low, you are being asked to compromise your personal or artistic beliefs), then do not take the gig. That’s it. Don’t take it. **

If you believe that the situation is acceptable if certain conditions are met, then propose those changes. If they are made, great; if not, do not take the gig.

If you are willing to take the gig as it is, if you’re comfortable with the reality and morality of the situation, then take the gig. And shut up. ***

I’m tired of hearing about how shitty this gig is, how awful that show is, how this one pays almost nothing and that one is a horrible degrading experience and this venue doesn’t have a stage and that venue doesn’t have a bathroom and this producer owes me money, didn’t say anything when the bar owner grabbed my ass, let a dozen photographers into the dressing room, did nothing to promote the show - from performers who keep taking these same gigs, again and again and again. (What’s that thing that Albert Einstein probably never said? “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”) If you want the situation to change, your behaviour towards it must change; if you don’t require it to change, if you can accept it even with its imperfections, then complaining about it serves no purpose and just takes away from bunny-stripper-Tumblr time.

To be sure, this doesn’t address the monetary aspect of the situation and all I can say is, personally I have not yet been faced with the ethical/financial dilemma of “Do I turn down that Republican Party Fundraiser gig on moral grounds even though it pays $100,000 and a unicorn?” And I daresay that until a major political upheaval occurs, most of us will never find ourselves in anything even approaching this situation.

However: I have turned down private gigs that paid half a month’s rent but required ten months of work; well-paying day-trip gigs with a producer I was totally skeeved out about spending six hours in a car with; regular gigs in venues so inappropriate as performance spaces that I want to claw my own pasties off in frustration, or locations so difficult to get to that they require three hours of subway travel, or so dangerous that I literally fear for my safety coming home. I have stopped working with producers that have accepted massive pay cuts from venues, or don’t oversee or curate their shows, or do nothing to protect their performers from sexual harassment by venue management or audience members; and in contrast I have supported the decision of a producer who cancelled a long-running, decently-paying regular gig when an audience yelled racial slurs at a performer and the venue management simply shrugged it off. After ten years, I’ve even stopped taking gigs that are just kind of a pain in the ass, simply because I’m too old and tired and I don’t want to complain all the time.

In this fragile art-stripper economy, I have felt the loss (and so has my landlord) of every single one of those turned-down gigs, be they $40 or $400 paychecks. And it’s not to say that I haven’t decided to take plenty of less-than-ideal gigs just to pay the rent, or just because they were incredibly fun. **** But over the years I’ve realized the importance of making actual, conscious, deliberate decisions about gigs – Am I satisfied with the circumstances of this job? Do I feel the money is fair? Is this a producer I’m comfortable working with, and a show I want my name on? Is this gig going to be a fucking great time that I’ll remember forever, and is that alone important enough? – rather than taking every show that’s offered despite my misgivings because, well, a gig’s a gig and I really need the work.

Because despite a decade of changes, two things have remained exactly the same: I always need the work, and there’s always another gig.

* Get it? “Decadent”? Like decade? Word power!

** And hey, if you feel strongly about the situation (and if you Care Enough To Complain, then let’s assume that you do) why not politely and appropriately voice your reasons for turning down the gig? If that producer hears enough times and from enough people “Thank you for the offer but I simply can’t travel three hours and perform four acts in your show for a $30 guarantee,” or “The last time I worked at your venue the host was incredibly offensive and inappropriate; as much as I enjoy your show I can’t work with you again as long as she’s hosting,” then maybe just maybe the pay scale will increase, or the quality of the hosting will improve. But if she never hears otherwise, there’s very little impetus for that producer to up the pay or fire the asshole who thinks “Our next performer is pretty hot for a fat chick!” is a valid hosting schtick.

*** Blowing up FaceTube with blind-item posts about how SOME PRODUCERS in the community really need to learn to VALUE PERFORMERS and RESPECT that what we do takes TIME AND SKILL and REALLY SHOULD LEARN that WE DON’T WORK FOR FREE and THEY’d be NOWHERE without performers!!!!! does not count as shutting up.

**** Not that I’ve yet experienced The Ideal Gig (despite a lot of truly excellent ones). I rather suspect that if I ever do perform in The Perfect Show, I’ll crumble into a pile of dust and glitter as I leave the stage.

Desert Island Strips: Peter Aguero

--> “If you were to be cast away on a desert island ... which three striptease numbers, one burlesque performer, and single act of your own would you bring along to keep yourself sane and entertained?”

Desert Island Strips: Episode 02

This month's castaway to the island is storyteller, host, performer and producer Peter Aguero, interviewed on January 24^th, 2014 in New York City.

DOWNLOAD to iTUNES NOW

or listen to the podcast here:


•••
Stalker's Paradise:

Peter Aguero on Twitter
The Moth
Bare.

Mary Cyn
Fem Appeal • Kitty Nights
Schaffer The Darklord
Amelia Bareparts

You don’t know me but you should totally book me!

--> The general quality of cold-email booking requests doesn't seem to have improved a hell of a lot over the past decade … although the volume of them sure has increased exponentially. I should know: years ago I wrote some of the most truly unforgivable ones myself and since then, in various production capacities, I’ve been receiving them almost daily.

Contemporary primary education barely teaches Look Where You’re Walking, You Idiot; so it’s little wonder that How To Correspond In A Professional Capacity With Strangers has gone almost completely by the wayside. In an effort, then, towards remedy:

How To Write A Cold Email Requesting A Performance Booking That Won’t Make The Recipient Want To Stab You In The Neck

Some Dos & Don’ts and a couple of Do Nots for variety:

• DO include a salutation, preferably one addressed to the specific person who will open the email.

If a complete stranger walked up to you with absolutely no preamble or introduction whatsoever and said “I’m a nurse and I want to work in your hospital,” your reaction might be a blank stare, or maybe some sort of spit-take depending on your proximity to beverages.* And yet about half of the booking emails I have ever received began just like that: “I’m a performer and I want to perform in your show.”

Not “Hi there.” Not “Hello” or “Howdy” or even “Hey.” Just “I want to be booked in your show.”

Take a moment to consider your cold email as that actual, in-person conversation-with-a-stranger. If your very first words make you sound like a self-centered nine-year-old, you’re not starting off on a spectacular note. This is a business email: so sixteen opening paragraphs of Glitterfabulousunicornssparkleglamourkisskisskiss! is a waste of everyone’s time; but taking the zero-point-no-seconds necessary to type “Hello” first goes a long way towards indicating that you’re an actual human being with an interest in other people and an ability to interact in society.

Now consider how spectacularly professional, prepared and totally together you’ll seem if you take only-slightly-more-time, attempt to find out the name of the person booking the show, and address the email to her. This not only implies that you know how to use Google, but demonstrates that you’ve actually researched the show and you understand what it is you’re asking to be hired for, rather than blanket-emailing every show within a 20-mile radius.

• Even though this is a copy-and-paste email that you’re blanket-emailing to every show within a 20-mile radius – and we all know it is, so don’t let’s pretend otherwise – DO obsessively check a dozen times that you’ve changed all necessary names and titles.

Even if the email opens with the immaculately-researched “Dear Ms. Canasta,  I’m writing to ask about a possible booking for Sweet & Nasty,” ** if three paragraphs later it says “Thanks so much, Emil, for considering me for the Whoops-A-Doggie Revue***,” it’s going right in the trash folder.

• DO mention personal connections; DO NOT imply recommendations without permission.

If Sarah Stripper explicitly says to you “Oh, sure, tell Petunia Producer that I recommended you for her show,” then by all means write to Petunia Producer, “I worked with Sarah Stripper recently and she suggested I drop you a line to ask about performing in the Petunia Producer Follies.”*** In contrast, “I worked with Sarah Stripper recently, she’s awesome. I’d like to be booked for your show” is disingenuous at best, transparent at worst.

• DO be friendly. DON’T be juvenile.

The Dickensian days of “Dear Sir or Madam, I am writing to enquire as to the opportunities for ecdysiastical employment within the framework of your productionary endeavours” are dead and gone. But if you’re old enough to strip you’re old enough to know that OMGPON1EZ!!! is not an acceptable closing to a business letter.

• DO be specific in your request - and DO remember that it’s a request, NOT a demand.

Are you looking for a booking in a particular production, or do you just want to work with that producer any time she might have a spot open? Are you only going to be in her town on certain days? Do you have a ‘special skill’ (fire, aerial) that her venue is perfect for? Then say that. “I’m a new performer and I’d like to introduce myself to you” is fine in person but what the hell is a producer supposed to do with that email beyond “Um, okay … nice to meet you”?

Let’s talk for a minute here about language and tone of voice. It is important in life to know what you want … but perhaps “want” is not always the word to use when trying to achieve it. Simpering and saccharine airheadedness are completely unnecessary and equally offputting, but consider: 

“I’d like to work with you” VS “I want to be in your show” 

“I’m writing about potential bookings” VS “I’m writing because I want to be booked” 

“I have an act that might fit in well with your theme” VS “My act will be great in your show”

Read it out loud before you hit send. Does this sound like a polite, friendly, professional and reasonable conversation, or a crystal-smashing, tantrum-throwing, me-me-me screaming diva fit? I’ve gotten a few doozies that sounded positively psychotic … which definitely affected how quickly I didn’t rush to never reply.

• DO your research. Know the show you’re asking to be booked for.

Currently, I cast one production. It is a reading series. Granted, the degree of nudity that is an integral part of this ongoing production**** means that many of the performers have some striptease experience as well; but the show itself is, simply, a reading series. We read, naked, out loud. That is all.

About half of the booking emails I receive – even the ones that get the name of the show right – do not say a single word about “reading.” They say “strip” or they say “dance;” they include extensive and detailed descriptions of burlesque routines and striptease numbers – many with video links – but nowhere do they say “and I’d also love to read naked out loud in your show.”

I assume when I receive these emails that the senders either lack the ability to use Google, or do not in fact know how to read.

• DO send links; DO NOT send attachments.

Seriously. It’s 2014. How does everyone not know this by now?

• DO briefly describe your style, aesthetic, or special skills; DO NOT send a cutesy fake character bio, a fourteen-page-long history of every non-performance job you’ve ever had, or a string of meaningless hyperbole.

Yes: “I perform classic striptease to a wide variety of contemporary music, often incorporating into my acts my 15 years of en pointe training.”

No no no dear god no: “Found in a box under a pool table in Las Vegas, I was raised by rock n’ roll werewolves who taught me my love of the open road and the secrets of magical transformation that make my performances a mind-blowing spectacle of dark beauty that have transfixed the world - and beyond! After a thousand and one nights dancing my tales before the desert courts of the foreign sands, I strapped my surfboard to my rocketship and made my way here to Springfield, where my unique blend of Dita Von Teese and Bettie Page is taking the burlesque scene by storm.”

• DO NOT include a page-long description of every act you do. Don’t include a one sentence description of every act you do.  Don’t describe all the acts you do.

If you’re looking to get a specific act booked in a specific show a brief description is in order. (“I have a John Hancock-lap-dancing-the-Constitution act that I think would be a great fit in your Founding Fathers show.”)  Otherwise, a concise explanation of your unique style (see above) and a link to your videos page is enough. If a producer wants more information about specific acts, she’ll ask for it.

• DO be honest about your experience - or lack of it.

Any producer with ten minutes’ experience of her own knows instantly when a new or less-seasoned strippeur is stretching the limits of credulity with a padded-out performance resumé: presenting every single performance with a particular show as a separate item, for example, or listing workshops or class recitals as ‘bookings.’ The honesty of “I’ve performed here in Springfield in the Stripper University Graduate Showcase at Café Fabulous, with Bras Be Damned! at The Music Box, and several times with Petunia Producer’s Follies” is perfectly legitimate; “I have many performance credits throughout Springfield and beyond, including: Café Fabulous (November 2013); Petunia Producer’s Follies (November 2013), The Music Box (December 2013), Petunia Producer’s Follies (December 2013), Bras Be Damned! (December 2013) and Petunia Producer’s Follies (January 2014)” is frankly insulting.

Two more things:

“Interstate” is not the same as “international.”

And if you lie about your performance experience, you will be found out. I once got a booking email from a complete and total stranger who had my own show listed on her resumé.

• DO be reasonable, professional and polite.

Polite, reasonable professionals do not write in cold emails things like:

• “I want to be booked for a weekly spot in your show.”
• “Our fifteen-person troupe will be in town, can you book our group number and also have us all do solos?”
• “So what’s the deal to be in your show?”
• “Can you teach me an act I can do in your next show?”
• “I guess we haven’t met but it’s still weird that you haven’t booked me yet.”
• “I’ve never been to your show but I really like the vibe of your photos! I want to perform with you!”
• “I’m going be taking a class soon so I’d like to arrange now to be in your show after that.”

And yet I’ve actually gotten all of these, and many many more.

Not to harsh your fabulous showgirl mellow, but you’re writing to a stranger, asking for a job. Just because that job involves boobs and feathers doesn’t mean you can’t be professional and fabulous at the same time.

(This, by the way, is quite fantastic and well worth a quick read.)

* If, for instance, it were me, said proximity would likely be close; said beverages would be whiskey, neat; and – because I think they’re really funny - the probability of spit-takes would be damn near 100%.

** Defunct. Dead. Buried. (Seriously. We had a funeral and everything.) Please do not ask to be booked for Sweet & Nasty, as I actually will book you but you will be the only one in the show and I will be the only one in the audience and that’s gonna get creepy but quick.

*** Hands off the name, bitches, I thought of it first.

**** i.e., High.

Desert Island Strips: Dangrrr Doll

--> “If you were to be cast away on a desert island ... which three striptease numbers, one burlesque performer, and single act of your own would you bring along to keep yourself sane and entertained?”

Desert Island Strips: Episode 01 

The first castaway to the island is striptease performer and costumier Dangrrr Doll, interviewed on January 4^th, 2014 in New York City.

DOWNLOAD to iTUNES NOW

or listen to the podcast here:


•••
Stalker's Paradise:

Dangrrr Doll on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr
Dangrrrous Designs
RAWR Burlesque

Ray Gunn: Jabberwocky
Imogen Kelly: BHoF Farewell Performance
Stormy Leather
Albert Cadabra

Ask The Experts: Alfred Bennett

--> “In 1868 a burlesque, The Merry Zingara, by W.S. Gilbert – a skit on The Bohemian – was produced at the Royalty with a bevy of attractive girls – there were pretty girls in every burlesque but they had to be clever ones as well, not merely manikins …

Burlesques were parodies on plays or stories, written in ten-syllable rhymed lines which, in harmony with the accepted wit of the day, abounded in puns and whimsicalities and were interspersed with songs, choruses and dances borrowed from opera, music-hall or other sources. The music was never original. The hero was always a girl, and there was often a female character depicted by a man, in which respects the wont and usage of pantomime were closely followed …

Incongruities were frequent in burlesque and puns were sometimes more than verbal. For instance, in Burnand’s Paris, Orion was got up as an Irishman with knee-breeches and shillelagh, spoke with a brogue and was called O’Ryan – “the only Irish constellation in the skies.” Topical allusions likewise abounded …

A few specimen lines will show at what our fathers deigned to laugh in their hours of ease. This excerpt from Paris was rendered funny by the makeup and delivery of the speaker, a man in female disguise:

            “Last night he smiles on me, my husband do,

            And says ‘I’m going out.’ Says I, ‘Where to?’

            Says he, which ain’t polite, ‘What’s that to you?’

            ‘Nothing to me,’ I says, ‘I only ask;

            Of course, if ‘ollow ‘arts will wear a mask,

            Then, as the poet says, the time will be

            When, hubby darling, you’ll remember me.’”

… A verse from a set called “What’s a burlesque?” contributed by W.S. Gilbert to one of the magazines, may perhaps fitly wind up this sketch of a by-gone amusement:

            “Pretty princess – beautiful dress:

            Exquisite eyes – wonderful size:

            Dear little dress (couldn’t be less)

            Story confused – frequently used:

            Sillified pun – clumsily done.

                        Dresses grotesque.

                        Girls statuesque.

                        Scene picturesque –

                        That’s a burlesque!” ”

--Alfred Rosling Bennett, London & Londoners In The 1850’s & 1860’s (1924)

2013: A Look Behind

--> Remember: Our job is terribly profound and meaningful and not at all silly or frivolous and it is vitally important to take every aspect of it very very seriously at all times.

2014 ain't gonna grab itself by the balls, people. Let's get on this thing.

MEMO: Pls call to resched. your appt w/Human Resources Dept.

--> 2013 Year-End Performance Review: Self-Evaluation

(With thanks to the several naff business-form-online sites that provided inspiration and/or wording.)

This Self Evaluation form is an opportunity for you to provide input into your Performance Review Process.* The form assists you in focusing on specific aspects of your job performance, including your unique strengths, talent and development focus for the future.

The good news is that as an independent performer or producer (or kitten, or costumer, or whatever the hell you are) you will not be required to show up to some dreary fluorescent-lit corporate hell-hole at 7 a.m. so an MBA fifteen years your junior can mouth businessspeak at you off of a checklist while you try desperately not to swear or say “boobs.” Rather, your personal Performance Review Process can be conducted naked in your living room with a bottle of wine in one hand and a different bottle of wine in the other - what’s important is that you take a moment for a little quiet professional and artistic reflection, as the year draws to a close (why not).

To that end, I invite you to use the following form as a starting point; not to share with anyone or the general public (unless you want to), not to obsess over and spend hours crafting essay-answers for (again, unless that’s your jam), but simply to help start the process of taking stock of your past year, professionally and artistically, and looking forward to the next.

And if I did the internet right, you can even print it out. If that kind of thing turns you on.

* Well, actually, no, it is the opportunity for your Performance Review Process. Being as we are in the relatively unique situation of a completely unregulated and non-hierarchical industry where any sort of professional criticism or feedback from peers, employers or consumers of our product (other than the frankly useless "OMG you are the gratest sooooooo pretty! Luv youuuuuuuuu!!!!") is highly likely to be automatically received as persecution, the only actual Performance Review Process in which any of us will participate has got to be self-initiated. 

And honestly attempted, too. Most of us fall to one absurd and unrealistic side or the other of “Well obviously the reason I don’t get booked is because no one can deal with how perfect and amazing I am and they should all go swallow glitter and die,” and “Well obviously the reason I don’t get booked is because I’m worthless and hideous and I should go swallow glitter and die.” Objectivity is difficult to maintain for us sensitive artist-types: I hear a lot of self-deprecating or frankly libelous reasons-why-I-don’t-get-booked (many of them, I am not happy to say, coming out of my own mouth) but very few honest-assessments-of-my-own-skill-level, pragmatic-understanding-of-my-uniqueness-and-marketability, or what-I-have-actually-done-to-get-that-job-beyond-“deserving”-it-and-waiting-for-it-to-come-to-me. 

About six months after I started performing I got a regular Saturday gig, go-go dancing from 1 to 3 a.m. at a venue that also happened to be the home of one of the only regular, highly-regarded burlesque shows in the city. One night I asked the booking manager when he was going to hire me for that show. Without malice, he replied “When you’re good enough.” I’m sure I looked as nonplussed as I felt, because he then explained: “Listen, you’ve been getting better but you’re still really new. Right now I couldn’t put you onstage next to Julie or Amber, but when you’re good enough, I will.”** 

I cannot imagine this conversation taking place today without the immediate indignant FaceTube post that Everyone DESERVES to get booked in EVERY SINGLE SHOW and no producer or booker should think that ANY PERSON is more experienced or skilled or that their particular style is more appropriate for a particular show than ANYONE ELSE and that guy deserves to be KILLED. 

Well okay, then. Until the format exists within a professional context for skilled, thoughtful feedback to be both given and received, *** it is up to us as individuals, and as working artists, to occasionally take stock of our work and our selves - as honestly and as dispassionately as possible, and without straying either into the Swamp of Self-Loathing or the Desert of Divadom. **** Because self-awareness is an invaluable thing: it can help us avoid everything from particularly unflattering styles of underwear to murderous depressive rage every time a show is announced that we’re not in. And most importantly, like a big giant multi-vitamin for the soul, it’s essential for healthy artistic growth.

 •••••

 SELF-EVALUATION FORM 
To be completed without pants.

• What is your job title?
Why do you use this title in particular? What does it say about what you do and about how you do it? 

• Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? What do you specifically contribute to your artform & profession that is unique or innovative? 

• What are you the most terrified to do, artistically speaking?

Have you ever done it?

• What is your greatest strength?
What do you do to capitalize on this strength?

• What is your greatest weakness?
What do you do to minimize the negative effects of this weakness?

• What single accomplishment, event or product from this past year are you most pleased with or proud of?

• What single event, action or product from this past year are you least pleased with or embarrassed by?

• What skill or talent would you like to add to your resumé?

Could you realistically learn or acquire this skill? If so, are you willing to expend the time and/or money that that would require?

• In the past year how (if at all) were you Part Of The Problem?
How were you Part Of The Solution?

• What is a single, achievable goal for the upcoming year?
What specific actions can you take to achieve this goal?

• What is one magic-wish, fairy-tale, genie-in-a-bottle totally-absurd-dream goal?
What’s one specific action you could actually take, now, in the actual real world to begin to achieve this goal? 

• How did this past year differ from your expectations?

• Where do you see yourself at the end of 2014? 

 •••••

** I am proud to say that eventually, I was, and eventually, he did.
*** I do not, I freely admit, know what that format ought best to be; nor do I have any interest in being the sole motivator or administrator of it so don’t ask, thank you.

**** Ugh, sorry about that.