Progress!

This week I have mostly been preserving every single fruit or vegetable that isn't fast enough to get out of my way, and have therefore had rather less time for costuming than I would like. What free time I have had has been somewhat complicated by the near permanent spattering of fruit pulp* over my person, which makes working on a cream costume a very bad idea.

That said, last night I did manage to wash off the raspberry juice, and finished up the belt base for my twenties costume. No pics yet, because boring strip of satin is boring, but the bra is looking something like this...

I have since finished the beading on the left boob, but still need to add the pearl drapes. There will undoubtedly be a post about that as I'm not sure where to put them, and asking my husband about the placement of pearl necklaces is a one way ticket to Facepalm.

I don't know about the rest of the blogosphere, but my bellydance diary is filling up fast, I have Sunday workshops over the summer concentrating on tribal fusion, which is my teacher's speciality but not my usual style. Come September i have two haflas and a workshop, then we're into October and another three haflas and a henparty. I've never had so much of a social life!

*six pots of raspberry curd, five of jam, a bottle of plums, two lots of cherries in brandy and some disastrous redcurrant jelly that hasn't set. The kitchen may never be clean again, but at least I'll never run out of raffle prizes!

A Little Bit of Goth and a Whole Lot of Thinking

I had been looking forward to Gothla 2011 since the end of Gothla 2010, but due to the gross inconvenience of my father-in-law electing to celebrate his 60th birthday, I had only the smallest taste of what is usually a hedonistic and hilarious weekend.

Gothla kicked off on Friday afternoon with a series of three hour masterclasses run by Morgana from Spain, Sera Solstice, and the inimitable, indomitable Sashi of Ascend Tribal fame and that wings performance. Guess who I was learning with?

The class was called 'The Awakening: Captivating Stage Expression', but could just as easily been called 'How the fuck did she make me spend three hours interpreting emotion through dance for the edification of complete strangers and why aren't I curled up in a ball of horror at the memory of it?'

Sashi freely admits to her ability to get people to do 'fucked up things', and in my book, convincing twenty uptight English chicks to throw phantom energy balls to each other, writhe around on the floor, and perform said interpretative dance is far more noteworthy than sticking bits of metal through your shoulders!

The course was light on actual dance content (some warm up shimmies and a short combo over which we had to layer the expressions of emotion), but by the end of the three hours I felt like I'd learned so much my head was going to explode, and moreover, learnt it by thinking and exploring and analysing, rather than having it broken down into bitesize chunks and spoonfed to me.

During the workshop we had to say what we wanted from the class, and then paired up with people who we felt shared a similar goal in dancing. I ended up working with a very talented lady who said she felt attuned to what I'd said about being a bundle of nerves and not being able to enjoy the experience of performance.

You may imagine my surprise when I connected the various bits of info I picked up (her first name, the fact she was teaching that weekend), and realised she was the creative director of a very theatrical troupe whose style I loathe, and whom I've been extremely rude about in the past!

A few lessons learnt then; firstly that this scene is too small for you not to bump into those you've been merrily slagging off; secondly that not all goths have facial piercings and tattoos; thirdly that just because someone likes to dress like Lady Gaga and throw fake blood on stage does not mean they can't dance; and finally it's Gothla, and if there's room for a fat cabaret chick, there's room for everyone else too!

20s costume, AKA the Teabag Special

You'll have to take my word for it regarding the staying power of Lady Grey teabags, and the blindingly white colour of the original. Suffice it to say that the teabag dye worked beautifully, and I'm now well launched on shaping the bra.

I'm experimenting with a new technique for the sides- leaving the original stretchy straps on, and basting the satin over them so they can still stretch to fit. I'm half a stone into my latest attempt to lose weight, so I want a costume that can accommodate a Lilith of varying sizes.

Decoration on this costume is going to be simple- I have enough half finished beading projects already! I have about ten pearl necklaces to use as drapes and swags on the belt and bra. If you squint at the photo you can see one of the pearl flowers I'm using as focal points. They're actually taken off stretchy bracelets, and I'll be using the loose pearls from the bracelets to edge the bra and provide some textural variation to all that smooth satin.

I'm getting quite excited about this one!

Adventures in Dyeing Part 2

It began with an invitation to a local hafla, which clearly meant a new solo, and a new costume.

I already have a round half dozen unfinished projects on the go, and my sole 'good' costume is in need of some serious attention if I wish to avoid a repeat of the Big Tit Tease of 2011. But rather than work on any of those, having picked my music, I realised I needed a totally new costume to go with it.

The song I'm working on is 'Egyptian Ella'. The costume, as is appropriate for a fat dancer chick from 1930 something, should therefore be elegant, glamorous, softly sepia, draped with pearls and cribbed off something already done much better by Tempest and Mardi Love.eBay purchases were perpetuated, bargain stores were raided and bead boxes were ransacked. The net result was two polyester satin nighties, half a rack of 'pearl' necklaces and an assortment of pearly beads. Tempest, eat your freakishly beautiful heart out :/

Sadly the nighties (look, I'm lazy. Much better to let someone else do the cutting, seaming, hemming and hanging, and let me just cut the straps off to get a bias cut floor length skirt) were not quite as desired, the antique cream being more of a 'fresh white paint' colour. Not quite what I was aiming for, so on went the computer, and oh fukkit went Lilith, as she discovered that polyester is wholly undyeable and she should bin the lot and start again.

But then I figured that if they're unusable as is, there was no harm in experimenting, so having cut one down to a skirt, I left some of the scraps in a mug of stewed tea (sans milk!)overnight. It took nicely, and resisted all attempts the following morning to rinse out the colour. That may count as undyeable in some people's books, being as I didn't give it a boil wash with sulphuric acid (or however they test it), but it works for me.

Thus there is currently a bucket full of Lady Grey tea (husband would have killed me if I'd used his precious builders tea bags) and nightdresses steeping merrily in my kitchen, ready for decanting tomorrow morning.

Occasionally the dog sticks his nose in for a taste- apparently Irish setters like tea?

Burlesque Drama, and not all of the fun sort

In the list of things you want to happen to you on the way to a dance class, having the driver in front of you hit a motorcyclist and then drive off, is probably pretty low on most people's lists. Guess what happened to me this morning when I set off to a burlesque event in another city?

The biker got off with bruises and some cosmetic damage to his bike. He was pretty sanguine about it, just thanked us for stopping to help him, and taking down our details in case he needed witness statements. I think I was more shaken up than he was (having lost a friend to a similar accident); by the time I reached my first workshop ( an hour late and after three trips round the city ring road, bloody SatNav), I was apparently looking worse than I felt, because the organiser immediately offered to sit me down and fetch me a cup of tea!

Fortunately, the day took a more positive swing from then on. Although I'd missed half the workshop, I was in time to get to grips with the choreography we were learning. This was a full strip of gloves, dress, knickers and bra, and was the perfect medicine for my emo state. It's hard to feel down and depressed when you've just highkicked your knickers across the hall!

The workshop was followed by a very ladylike afternoon tea of sandwiches, scones, cakes and the promised cup of tea. Matters then got considerably less ladylike as we embarked on a pastie-making lesson. You can see my first attempts above. They're fiddly to make, but great fun, and the gratification is a lot more instant than beading a belly dance costume!  I have plans for a set to match my peacock costume...

Last class of the day was a makeup master class, beginning with a retro day look, at which I failed miserably because I don't own a single neutral eyeshadow. Fortunately we moved swiftly on to stage makeup, and got to layer on endless colours, glosses, glitters and liners under the watchful eye of our teacher, Fulya. We learnt loads of tips, like highlighting the brow bone, contouring the cheeks with blusher, how to stick eyelashes to your face not the table...

I went for what Fulya called the absinthe and alcohol look, very heavy, very dark eye makeup (it's actually royal purple, the camera lies! and adds 20lb), pale cheeks and deep red lips (which wore off on the way home). Then the whole lot got sprinkled with glitter!

Fabulous!

Hair Today

So after seeing this photo of me (taken at Cirque 2011 by viclaurence), I am torn between being very pleased by the way my tribal costume turned out, and fed up with having boring hair.

Recently I've noticed a trend for beginner dancers (well, mainly beginners. I can think of at least two who should know better!) to be dressed like Dina from the neck down, and Tesco cashiers from the neck up. No disrespect to the checkout ladies, but is that really the look you want to be rocking with your sequinned butterfly tops and chiffon harems?

Fake hair is another local obsession. I'm all for adding to what nature gave you, but some people take it to extremes, and nothing looks more daft than three foot of ash blonde ringlets attached to a dark blonde head.

Me, I abide by a rough rule of 'up' for tribal/fusion and 'down' for cabaret, and sprinkle over accessories as appropriate (no fake hair though, red hair is a nightmare to match), but recently I've been feeling like my hair is distinctly blah, and blah hair on dancers is a bad, bad thing.

Problem is, I spend half my life wearing a ponytail, and scraped back hair is just not a good look on someone with a moon face like mine. And too short hair means no khaleegy style tossing or dancefloor moshing.

Why it took me 28 years to come to the conclusion of getting layers cut into my hair beats me, because it's blatantly the best solution. Long enough to pull back, but with dainty floaty bits around the face. Thus yesterday i went to a dingy little salon near me, and spent £20 on a haircut, which if i say so myself, looks awesome.

Or rather it did. A day of gardening, dog walking, sick husband tending and housework means it now looks like a rats nest that's been dropped in a deep fat fryer.

But it has possibilities! (And is a great excuse to buy more hair bling. Claire's Accessories have a 3 for 2 on hair flowers right now)

Body Image

I came home from class on Wednesday night feeling fat, uncoordinated and hopeless. I'd fucked up every move in class, even the simple ones (one leg shimmy, where are you?), eaten everything that stayed still long enough, and generally convinced myself that I was doomed to grow so fat and hopeless that they'd need to break down a wall of my house to remove my bloated corpse when i finally died of malnutrition caused by living on cookies and bacon crisps.

This evening, I signed up for a burlesque workshop that will teach the classic strip, from dress to drawers. 20 other women are going to watch me cavorting around in unflattering clothes with knickers worn over the top (which is slightly scarier, IMO, than being just in knickers. Underwear is sexy. Only superman could pull off the underwear as outerwear look).

I guess what I'm aiming at here are two things. One is that even the ugliest, fattest, spottiest heifer in the county looks and feels better after a cuddle and a good night's sleep. The second is that this is the only body you get, and waiting until it fits into some personal ideal of perfection is a good way to waste your life.

So come the eleventh of June, me and my fat will be slinking around in my little black dress, saucy stockings, sexy lingerie and, er, Primark leggings and vest. Because I might lose my fat in a few months, or it might still be dogging me until the day I die. Either way, I sure as hell don't want to be on my deathbed wishing I'd taken Fulya's workshop!

Popping the Improv Cherry

Yesterday evening saw me performing my first ever improvised solo. Only problem was... it was meant to be choreographed.

I was almost the last dancer on, so I had the entire show to fret myself up good and proper whilst watching an array of unspeakably talented people strutting their stuff.

Then I got onstage and my carefully polished choreo flew out of my head, leaving me 'hedgehog in headlights' in front of a hundred people, doing endless camels and almost at the point of tears. I have never before had such paralysing stagefright, and I never want to experience it again!Then I dropped my veil, which is something I haven't done in years, and something in my head went 'ping!'

I twirled around until I was in a position to casually scoop up the misbehaving prop, and spent the rest of the song just dancing. Don't ask me what, I can't remember. The photo evidence suggests there were a lot of spins. I recall barrel turns, cones, veil changes, champagne flutes, half-flipped turns, and a few more camels. There appears to have been some floorwork, and there's a 'beautiful' photo of me being eaten by my veil, which I guess is just an occcupational hazard when you combine silk and sweat.

I have no idea whether it was any good or not. It felt good, in a sort of 'zaar trance' cathartic sort of way. I smiled occasionally, but it's a sad song, so I get a free pass for the pensive/petrified expression. I got a good audience response, but there had been a lot of beer drunk by then!

All in all, quite the learning experience. Harsher lessons include the discovery that I look really, really silly doing what my teacher refers to as a 'teabag' (see picture). On her, it looks sassy and slightly cheeky. On me, it looks like Caspar the Friendly Ghost.

I also had a costume malfunction that involved my left boob making a slow but determined break for freedom out from under my bra, which a couple of people commented on. (Let it be known, dancers, you should always, always warn each other of such things, even if it's after the show. Costumes get reused, and you can;t fix a fault if you don't know it's there). And after five hours in my bag, my carefully ironed veil looked like a dishrag.

On the plus side I'm delighted to know that I can just 'get up there and dance', and that my natural response to forgetting the moves is to default to a core vocabulary until my brain starts talking to my hips again. I'm really happy that the hours and hours of freedance practice have paid off, and I'm particularly glad that I took the oft repeated advice to KNOW YOUR MUSIC.

Glamming Up and Catching Up

Since I have recently had the good fortune to be pimped by not one but two fabulous fellow bloggers (the The Belly Whisperer and Foxy Roxy), I imagine it really does behove me to put down the sewing for a moment and update, in the hope that the flocks of adoring fans that rush over here (hahaha) will have something to read.

I'm typing very cautiously today, as I've just painted my nails. I'm also leaving a trail of brown dust wherever I go, as my talented troupe mate Ruth practised her henna skills on me last night. The jury is out as to whether mehndi is authentic for dancers (FWIW, I am a huge fan), but given the hafla we're performing at is called Henna and Spice, it seemed appropriate.

As usual, it wouldn't be the day of a hafla if i wasn't still mucking around with my costumes as the hours count down. I particularly wanted to revamp my tribal bra, as the original design (purple ruching to an inch below the nipple line, accentuated with a row of crystal fringe) looked both home made and unflattering. F cup boobs don't need any assistance in looking droopy!

The updated version is below. I added an extra swoop of the purple material to bring the interest back up to the cleavage, and cannibalised a charity shop necklace made of dull metal chain and haematite beads to add interest and movement to the top of the bra and as a belly dangle. Total sewing time, about an hour!

To do list for pre hafla preparation is roughly as follows:

Go to town and check Primark for spandex vests (I have a new purple skirt i want to wear, but no belly cover. I am the queen of last minute costuming!)
Wash previously dyed hair and do thorough check for dye splodges
Put on eyelashes (this is a battle I usually lose)
Eat something (the nerves are not improved by hunger)
Pack each costume separately, ticking off each item as I go
Iron veil
Put batteries in camera
Party!

Busy Bee

I've had no time for blogging recently as I've been far too busy sewing. I've been working away on cabaret belts for my troupe, in an attempt to tempt them over to the sparkly side, and i've also restarted my long-abandoned peacock bedlah by abandoning all the laboriously sewn appliques i made and doing new ones. They look so much better that it's worth the extra effort!

I picked up a copy of Bead & Sequin Embroidery, and have been learning and applying loads of new techniques. I'm also having a torrid love affair with sew on crystals!

This morning I went out for my usual trawl around the local charity shops while my husband was doing something tedious involving banking. My usual approach is to just home in on whatever looks pretty. If it fits, it joins the wardrobe. If it doesn't, it gets examined for costuming potential. You may imagine my delight when I found this dress, which ticked both boxes!

 It's ankle-length gold glitterdot, and fits to a T, and has a drape at the neck (not seen in the pic) that has 'headband' written all over it. Best of all, it was only £5! I'm not sure quite what to do with it yet- finding baladi dresses in my size is a struggle, so I'll definitely keep it as a dress, but I want to add slits up the side, and either lower the neckline or turn it into an underbust.

Thoughts?