Rendezvous
12 December 06 : 02.16 AM
Danii brought me to watch Crazy Horse cabaret on Saturday, picking the 10pm showtime. The women on stage were beautiful, but in a generic sorta way so you could never remember their faces or their bodies. Perfect, poised, pink-nippled, taut stomachs, glossy unbroken skin and provocative outfits. It's like you want to be them or to touch them, so maybe some of their twirling magic rubs off you. But you know it's always just the lighting. Without it, they're just ordinary women, dancers trained.
I began to wonder what was their life away from the stage. Where they walked without tipping their heels, and they didn't go about with bare breasts and chalked thick makeup. I wanted to see them behind the stage when they peel off their makeup in front of the mirror and don jeans and teeshirts.
I imagined they'd have voices too; they didn't come muted or lip-synching. They have voices, and they say, bonjour to you in the morning, pardonne moi when they haven't heard what you just said, or if you saw that they didn't really hold the same magic offstage as they do on it.