The Costume Pile

This is my local crack den, also known as Pat's Sewing Basket, a stall in the (in)famous Birmingham Rag Market. Fortunately for the parlous state of my wallet, I no longer work fifteen minutes away from the myriad temptations hidden in all those boxes.

Less fortunately for my overflowing stash of half-finished and not-yet-started costumes, it means I can't just pop out in my lunch hour and come back with ten quids worth of beads, sequins and random sparkly trim that I didn't really need but couldn't leave behind.

Fortunately, I stocked up before moving to a new office, and my craft room overflowing with haberdashery in all the colours of the rainbow.

Good job too. I have two costumes of my own on the go and am currently incubating plans for a tartan corset belt and a nebulous vintage concept involving pearls and chiffon. I also volunteered to make bedlah for my troupe, in a probably futile attempt to wean them over to the sparkly side (cabaret costumes are fun!).

And somewhere in between all that I'm trying to squeeze in 30 minutes of practice a day. Life is rather full right now!

Of Solos and What Not to Do

 

So Saturday saw me making my debut solo appearance, albeit under my real name rather than this one, and announced by a compère who sounded as though she'd just found a large turd in her costume bag. Enthusiasm, folks, it ain't just for Turkish dancers!

All in all it went surprisingly well! I hadn't realised how much improv technique i've imbibed over the past two years; there were several sections where I just dumped the choreo and went for something that felt better. I didn't stand on the veil (much), and despite the photo I did not whip it around at warp speed. My head band fell off during the last chorus, and had to be elegantly tossed off stage, and my necklace fell off while I was bowing, but considering some of the costume malfunctions I've had in the past, (stockings falling down, belt falling down, knickers falling down... gravity is not my friend) this was no big deal. And I remembered to smile occasionally- my troupe mates were in the corner, and they had threatened to do the 'hip hop gorilla move' if I didn't keep looking up and out at the audience.

Which reminds me. When did teachers stop telling their students to smile and make eye contact? I was in a troupe Turkish piece as well, and my teacher's last words as we went on stage were 'tits and teeth!'. As you can see, we did at least try to take her advice!

Cheesy, perhaps, but a good reminder, especially for those who default to a look of fierce concentration when dancing. I've seen some lovely soloists perform recently, but what really stood out about their performances was the way they stared fixedly at the floor with a look of utter misery on their faces while the rest of their body performed. Is that really the lasting impression you want to give your audience?

Note to Self

When designing a fabulous new skirt to wear for a Turkish piece, and bearing in mind your teacher's advice to 'split it up to here', it might be advisable to put said split over the leg without the giant purple scars.

Just saying.

Fortunately, being blessed with junk in my trunk and in my, um, hood? (by which I mean I got a double helping in the stomach department) most of my costumes react well to being turned back to front!

Space!

No, i'm not dead, although recently I've wished i was. Norovirus+IBS=a very unwell Lilith.

This week I was finally back to normal and was back in work (boo) and back in class (yay). My awesome teacher has been working us hard on a new piece in the 'Turkish Cheesecake' style. It's incredibly naff, all coy little level changes and flirtatious smiles, and I love it very hard indeed. It also begins with a very short and sweet veil piece, which makes a vital refresher for me because...

Not only did I bite the bullet and sign up for a solo spot at the next hafla, I decided to go all out and do a veil piece, seeing as i now have a stupendous new orange veil (the dye worked, but it needs an iron before I photograph it).

Unfortunately in order to perform with a veil you need to practise with a veil, and that's where's I've hit a snag, literally. My house is currently being renovated, and every room is full of dust and displaced furniture in roughly equal proportions. Couple that with a dog who thinks all forms of moving draperies are a new chew toy, and my practice opportunities have been seriouly limited.

I've resorted to turning up to class early, and running through the whole thing in the empty hall before the rest of the class arrive, but on Wednesday my teacher caught me and made me do it over again so she could see. Naturally, it was on that run through that I got my foot stuck in my veil and had to hop around ungracefully trying to free it. Of such moments is bellydance comedy made. That aside, it got a good reception and I was pleased with how it felt to be able to use the veil fully and put in the travelling moves I have to leave out at home.

So I'm feeling a little under-rehearsed, but otherwise quite excited. It's been a while since i set foot on stage, and I miss the buzz!

The Orange Peril

I have an orange addiction, I acknowledge this. The 'You've been Tangoed' monstrosity seen in my last post is just the latest manifestation of a habit that began with a couple of t-shirts, progressed through a new winter coat and a pair of glasses, and wound up with a 25 yard skirt, a tribal bra and an as yet unfinished cabaret set.

It's got to the stage now where i'm not allowed to suggest costuming themes to my troupe mates, because they're sick of looking like adverts for Easyjet. And yet I still can't stop.

I'm not even sure why I like it so much. Maybe it's because it's a compromise? It's extrovert and eye-catching, but it doesn't have the immediate connotations that red has (and besides, no one who blushes as much as i do can get away with wearing red near their face). It's a warm, feminine colour, but not as stereotypical as pink. I've never been a girly girl, and the only pink I wear is hot, spiced with pvc and leather and worn with dreadlocks. Orange can be deep and grounded, or bright and eye-catching. I can blend it with earthy naturals, or make it pop with vibrant greens and deep blues. The one thing I can't do, though, is buy an orange veil.

So I had to make one.

It started with this ravishing silk veil from one of my favourite sellers, Kookie Kaftan, which was intended to go with my gold/bronze bedlah. Unfortunately the gold turned out to be too yellow for my costume, but having spent fifteen quid on it, I was less than inclined to send it back, especially as it's a dream to dance with, light and airy, and forgiving of my rough handling.

So I dyed it. I used Dylon's 'Goldfish' orange, and spent a happy evening stirring a witches brew of dye, salt, water, veil and and a charity shop top that desperately needed a revamp (white clothes never stay that way for long around me).

I hoicked it out of its mix about half an hour ago, and strung it out over the shower rail to dry. By the way, isn't wet silk a bitch to handle? I thought I was going to rip it to shreds trying to get it to unstick from itself and lie flat.

And now I wait, to see whether I have a new fix for my addiction or new fuel for the rag bag!

New Year, New Solo?

We're well launched into 2011 now, and already the hafla invitations are coming in, and the year is beginning to fill up
I've been dancing with my troupe for over three years now, and in that period I have attempted a solo precisely once. It was a feather fan fusion piece to a Fall Out Boy song (don't judge me) and was wholly choreographed by my good self, on the basis of two years of belly dancing and, um, viewing some fan videos on Youtube.

It wasn't the exercise in pain and misery that it could have been, and the select and supportive audience were very enthusiastic, however having seen the footage of it (which has mysteriously disappeared off my camera, harddrive and memory stick, Strange...) it's clear that I was by no means ready to go out there on my own. Since then, I think I have quashed the demons of chicken wing arms, mouthing along to the song (do not do this ladies, it looks very very stupid), and forgetting the moves halfway through and spending an eternity on Turkish step until the brain reboots. But I guess I won't really know until I go back out there.

So tell me, when did you start soloing, and when did you actually feel ready to start soloing. And if you aren't ready yet, when will you be? What was your first solo like?

Most importantly, what did you wear? I wore a home-made bedlah that would not be out of place on What Were They Thinking?, which featured, besides the uncovered bra with droopy fabric fringe seen below, a matching

lace-up belt, also covered in sad fringe, a mesh knit tunic with a very conspicuous seam down the front of the belly, a pair of black work trousers and a silver overskirt. Seen at a distance, it's not as bad as it sounds- I even use a (small) picture of it as an avatar, but it looks what it is; home-made. I still love it though- my first foray into tribal!

Happy New Year!

I hope your year is full of sparkles, shimmies and sequins, or cowries, camels and coins according to taste.

We celebrated the New Year by letting off sky lanterns and making wishes and resolutions. I'm not usually one for resolutions as they're usually forgotten by the time the hangover's worn off, but I did make a couple of belly dance resolutions:

At least two completed costumes of professional quality in my wardrobe by the end of the year, complete right down to accessories and props. I'm already almost there with my gold bedleh, but I'd like a really cool tribaret costume too.

Learn to play zills to at least beyond the gallop, and be able to dance with them.

Brush up my veil work and start learning sword.

FIRE DANCE :D (palm candles for now, but one day I will do fire fans. One day!)

Convince my troupe to do a cabaret piece. I crave the shiny!

Do my first (decent) solo. I 've danced solo once before, at a very small hafla. It wasn't disastrous, but i definitely wasn't ready for a wider audience. I think I am now, so i just have to work the nerve.

What about you guys? Any resolutions?

A Well-Earned Break?

After a Christmas that was fraught with the anticipation of family dramaz (none of which finally occurred, Alhamdulillah!) I have retreated for a week's break with a group of good friends and enough booze to seriously concern the tesco deliveryman.

Costuming has of necessity taken a backseat, because carting a half finished bra and assorted embellishments to a farmhouse in Wales is what is generally referred to as a bad idea, especially after a couple of vodkas and cokes. Instead I am happily engrossed in various crochet projects, including zill mufflers based on Shira's spiderweb pattern.

This is particularly relevant to my interests as I can endure about ten minutes of the clanging chimes of doom before I need to lie down with a cold wet flannel over my eyes. Given one of my troupemates has expressed an interest in choreographing with the blasted things, I need to learn how to play them without sending myself and the rest of the household demented. 2011 will be the year I progress beyond the Gallop!

2011 is also set to be the year I lose 5 stone... or at least a measurable fraction thereof. It has been forcibly brought to my attention that my dancing can only be improved by the removal of at least some of the layers of insulation that swathe my inner Ariellah. I don't please the eye in the same way as my troupe mates, I don't look as good in troupe costumes, and all my hard-learned undulations and super flexible show off moves are muffled by my extra bulk.

It's not just an aesthetic consideration. I run out of puff well before my classmates, and I'm always the first to drop out of drills. I don't really want to be that chick anymore. And think of the money I'd save if I could buy my bras at the supermarket instead of Bravissimo

Such good intentions are likely to be shot to hell before New Year even arrives, as traditionally this week's break involves obscene amounts of eating, drinking, and eating a bit more. I am, though I says it as shouldn't, a bloody good cook, and am usually in charge of the breakfasts (bacon, sausage, fried eggs, black pudding, fried mushrooms, baked beans, fried bread... it's a heart attack on a plate, seven days in a row!).

But but but! We packed the mountain bikes, so I get to see whether Arabesque balancing skills transfer well to muddy singletrack, and the barn in which we're staying has a gym, which i have already visited today (first time on a cross trainer in about 5 years). And, most exciting of all, and the reason I'm even able to talk to you, is that Mr Noor bought me a spanking new shiny laptop for Xmas which has sound(unlike my old desktop), so I have an internet's worth of music, drills and motivation at my fingertips.

And Facebook.

Cabaret Costuming for Cuddly Ladies

Or in other words, how to look good in glitter when your thighs are bigger around than your troupemate's waist!

I'm pretty sure I've griped on here before about the twin trials of being a plus size dancer with a size zero wallet. Most custom made stuff is out of my price range, and the cheaper costuming gear is almost invariably from the far east, and sized accordingly.

Even if us larger ladies can find  reasonably priced clothes in our size, there's no guarantee it's going to look good. Round my neck of the woods, there are two standard 'base level' cabaret costumes. The first should need little explanation; backless tops and 38F breasts are never a good combination, and I have seen more than one beginning dancer expose more than she intended under one of those damn butterfly tops! The second is certainly more decorous, but teamed with a straight panel skirt it's basically covering all my assets whilst being a large flashing advertisement for a big belly with considerable overhang, and despite the name of the dance, that's not really what I want to draw attention to. Besides, if I'm doing cabaret, I want a proper bedlah, and until people start selling them in sizes over a C cup that's going to entail making my own. 

So I have! This is actually the fourth bedlah I've made (the third finished one), but the basic construction is the same. Nice sturdy bra (usually a daily wear one that has been retired due to tattiness) covered with a gorgeous sari (£5 for a whole bag of them off a fellow dancer), then embellished. The straps have been cut off so it loops and ties at the back like a tribal bra, as I haven't quite got the hang of covering straps yet. The belt is made of 4 layers of interfacing, covered in more sari material, and attached by hooks and eyes. Lots of them. I don't enjoy costume malfunctions.

 

So far so good, but I like a little more coverage than is supplied by the average bedlah. Off the shelf underbust tops are so rare as to be almost non-existent here in the UK, but a brief sojourn on eBay throws up lots and lots of stretchy velvet tops that are just begging to meet my sewing scissors And some of them aren't black- this fluorescent orange monstrosity is actually a pleasant shade of burnt ochre in real life and a perfect match for my beautiful bedlah. 

Even so it's not my best look ever- there's a reason my wardrobe only consists of V-necks and wrap tops. But ten minutes with a seam picker soon gets shot of the dreaded turtleneck. Another twenty minutes with Fritz, my beloved sewing machine, during which I discover that all velvet is not made equal and this stuff is a total PITA to hem, and I have a new addition to my dance wardrobe.

Then there's the skirt. This one is actually home-made, and is a circle and a half of brown chiffon. The material is beautifully tactile and floaty (and utterly transparent- I'm wearing leggings underneath), but it was such an utter ball-ache to make that I have no intentions of doing it again if I can possibly help it. I've since tracked down some good retailers of chiffon skirts on eBay, rather than just the tiny petal skirts beloved of Hong Kong traders. I also made harem pants to go underneath, but these appear to have vanished into the abyss of the fabric pile!

Finally, for added shits and giggles, there's enough velvet left to make two cuffs and a headband, ready to be embellished with left-over flowers, sequins and beads, and (on the cuffs) trimmed with floaty chiffon streamers that will either emphasise my graceful arm movements or disguise my funky chicken impresison, depending on what sort of day it is.

I don't delude myself into thinking this costume is anything close to professional standard, but that's just fine. I'm not a professional, just a hobbyist and occasional fundraiser, with champagne tastes on a cold tea budget. I aim for a hand-made rather than home-made look, and if I've achieved that, I'm happy.

Overall, this costume probably set me back around £60 in materials and 20 hours of labour, I thoroughly enjoy learning new craft techniques, and when I do wear it out I'll have the satisfaction of knowing no one else has a costume quite like it. And I'd need to pay a damn sight more than £60 to ensure that if I bought off the peg!

Weather Stops Play



 The UK has been experiencing some weather recently, which will no doubt reap scorn from hardier souls who are used to measuring their snow fall in feet. As our country is set up to deal with rain and wet leaves rather than the white stuff, life has basically ground to a halt.

I've missed out on a couple of week's classes, and several haflas, and as usual when I have an enforced hiatus from dancing, I start losing my enthusiasm. It's probably not helped by the fact I feel like our last performance fell flat on its arse- under-rehearsed, costume problems, and a polite rather than enthusiastic audience. It's tapped into all my usual insecurities and I don;t fele like I want to go out there and dance.

We have a couple of performances before Christmas, and I'm trying to psych myself up for them. I love the music we're using (Start Wearing Purple by Gogol Bordello), I love the crazy circus feel of the choreography I wrote, and I love the costume.

And yet. I'm not motivated to practise the piece (and by God does it need some polishing), I can't be bothered to finish the costume, I'm not interested in practising with my high heeled boots on to avoid tripping over my trousers again. I can't be arsed to work out my makeup and hair.

I need the BD equivalent of a swift kick up the jacksie. Maybe someone should get the 4am zills brigade to come blockade my house until I cave and start rehearsing.

PS- I should note that the awesome snow-habibti is not of my making- the original is on Tribe