If the burlesque stripper, with her bawdy spirit and unruly insubordination, has emerged for many as a new 'empowering' model for the sexually aware woman, then she also strikes horror in the heart of second wave feminism. Embodied by high profile artistes such as Dita von Teese and Cat

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Product Description

If the burlesque stripper, with her bawdy spirit and unruly insubordination, has emerged for many as a new 'empowering' model for the sexually aware woman, then she also strikes horror in the heart of second wave feminism. Embodied by high profile artistes such as Dita von Teese and Catherine D'Lish, the explosive revival of striptease, burlesque and overt female sexual performance has proved no less alluring to a new generation of women artists familiar with the provocative work of 70's performance artists such as Hannah Wilke and Carolee Schneeman. Eloquent on 'prettiness' and power, desire and 'knowingness', money, sex and class, and with an extensive knowledge of burlesque's rich tradition, Willson raises long overdue questions about women's erotic expression within a 'postfeminist' condition. The 'new burlesque' demands above all a response - this fresh, brazen, provocative book at last provides it.

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Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #65776 in Books
• Published on: 2007-10-24
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 176 pages

About the Author
Jacki Willson is Visiting Lecturer at Nottingham University and Lecturer at South Nottingham College. She is also a practising artist.

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Customer Reviews

Jacki Willson says
I am a feminist. Once a week, I attend a burlesque dance class.

Jacki Willson insists burlesque is only acceptable to feminists if done in a "subversive" manner. Otherwise, the "burlesque performer is ... admitting that she is still trapped within existing value systems and erotic forms".

Indeed?

I am an amateur. I have performed in public only once. However, burlesque has helped me become more confident. Many other women feel the same. Most of us have hang-ups about our bodies and all of us have plenty going on in our lives outside burlesque.

So, trapped? I feel restricted by many things, including: socio-economic conditions, existential doubts, hang-ups about my body and being ruled by a government that values neither my opinions nor my contributions to society. Hence, my hobbies matter. If someone disparages one of them, I want to know why.

Art "needs to disturb", argues Willson.

Really? I would rather admire a picture of sunflowers than adore a bisected calf or gilded skull. Is Willson seriously advocating a world where radios play nothing but protest songs, all plays are agitprop and every T-shirt bears a slogan? If not, why pick on burlesque artistes rather than pensioners doing apolitical watercolours?

Willson says that indifference or "nonchalance [towards feminism] informs many women inspired by and contributing to the present boom in burlesque".

That may be so, but where is the problem? I feel secure in my own views. I can risk mixing with nonchalant non-feminists. Surely Willson is not accusing me of sharing their simplistic attitudes?

That appears to be her view, although she never formally admits it. She lumps together burlesque with cosmetic surgery, porn and prostitution. Then she implies burlesque enthusiasts are uncritical of all of these. She also misses chances to score easy points. For example, she mentions one Kevin Gibson who claims that "strippers, porn stars and hookers" are "the ones with the power" (page 71). The fact solicitation is illegal in the UK suggests Gibson is wrong about the latter group, yet Willson fails to point this out. She does not examine the pros and cons (pun intended) of these three related but separate categories. I think that a more analytical approach would serve her better, as would spending more time talking to women rather than making assumptions.

For example, I feel conflicted about cosmetic surgery. If a loved one wanted it, I do not know if I would say," Go for it; change your life" or "Don't take the risk; learn to love yourself."

Some of the book seems to be a celebration of burlesque, and there are some genuinely perceptive comments. If I were standing in front of Willson wearing a burqa, she would probably avoid the mistake of trying to tell me I would be more "liberated" in something more Westernised. Yet because I am metaphorically wearing a corset, choker and high heels, she is suspicious of me.

The problem is not the heels: Willson's role model when growing up was the fictitious Alexis Carrington from "Dynasty". The "acerbic but sexy" Mrs Carrington (or Colby, or Dexter, or Rowan, as she later became) "did not have to take her clothes off to gain the upper hand".

I cannot fathom the reasons for Willson's discomfort about nudity, and I am not sure she can either. The one time I took off my clothes in public was not on stage. It was as part of a protest re civil liberties (and many of the protesters were male).

Willson concedes that burlesque performers of the past were intelligent and often politically aware, but insults modern ones, such as Dita Von Teese. They stand accused of naivety, "pure irresponsibility", "playing a dangerous game" and reinforcing the view that only "glamorous" women are listened to.

Von Teese is not my idol, although I don't believe she is as shallow as Willson suggests. Von Teese's idol, Marchesa Luisa Casati sounds appalling - wearing feathers that dripped blood indeed! (My own boa does not contain feathers). Von Teese is rich and surgically enhanced. She is not, however, a politician or a newspaper magnate. She is not responsible for our society alienating large numbers of women: she is a scapegoat in lipstick.

Willson attacks glamorous pin-ups for "distancing, alienating and ultimately disempowering a large percentage of women who could not or did not want to conform." The models "also presumably would have shocked themselves when they got older and could not or would not do this anymore" (page 75).

No doubt, the effects of ageing will come as a great shock to women in their 50s and 60s attending burlesque classes, who should perhaps, chose more sedate pastimes. Seriously, this argument reflects double standards. Being socially inclusive does not mean fetishising the lowest common denominator. It is not intrinsically immoral to pursue goals that some women cannot reach. Some women will never be academically gifted: did Willson alienate them by writing her book? Do female athletes "disempower" women who are disabled or old? Do round-the-world yachtswomen "distance" women who are uninterested in boats?

What of Willson's admiration for Alexis Carrington? Does not idolising a witty, bitchy, apolitical, over-made up (heterosexual, white) oil-tycoon-and-mother risk alienating women who are inarticulate, sensitive, infertile, impoverished, allergic to cosmetics or simply critical of the oil industry?

It is sad that many women hate looking in the mirror. However, I refuse to dress boringly out of solidarity. That would lower my self-confidence. It would make me envy glamorous anti-feminists, who would doubtless sneer at my naïvely pointless gesture of self-sacrifice.

I am pleased that Willson raises issues like race and class and power and social exclusion. As a woman who considers she has suffered from social exclusion, I have much to say on the matter.

However, I prefer to express my views in words and not via dance.

Cold Ice & Baby Oils
I got this book because I needed help with my screenplay that has a London strip club as a major feature.
And to be honest it was quite entertaining - I had been recomended a book called Cold Ice And Baby Oils - but couldnt find a copy anywhere - no-one had heard of it - but never mind as this book paints a picture and gives a powerful insight a sleazy and sad world where women are used by horrible men.
Worth reading - because it tells a nasty story in a decent way.

the happy stripper
this book is a fantastic reference book, enlightening and reliable. a great source for my dissertation.