Singapore Sling

Well, as ever I'm procrastinating on a bit of rehearsal. Performing is exhilarating and exciting, but rehearsals... rehearsals can be very tedious. Sometimes the idea of having to put on the costume and take it off, put it on, take it off 20 times in a row makes me want to run screaming for a nice normal job.


So rehearsals will have to wait for this evening I think, and for now I will tell you about my travels which were FAB thanks for asking!


Singapore holds a dear place in my heart, as do quite a lot of places, but Singapore has dibs on a bit of my family history so whenever I'm heading to the Southern Hemisphere I like to squeeze in a few days in the hot and sweaty little island.


This time through I was on the hunt for a Saree so I made my way into Little India. If only I had longer to explore, the place was absolutely buzzing with life. If you're a magpie like me and cannot pass anything sparkly or colourful without being completely transfixed then you would understand how I felt when I explored row upon row of Saree stores with their exquisite materials, the bangle stores, henna artists and spice vendors.


I eventually found the Saree I was after, sparkly of course and black which is quite unusual for Saree's and it went down an absolute treat at the party I wore it to. I of course justified the cost to myself by thinking it may come in handy for a show in the future! After explaining to the sales lady that I had never worn one before she smilingly assured me I would have no trouble and put a leaflet into my bag on the art of Saree wearing, and I tell you, it most certainly is an art.


Because of the way it drapes in such a feminine way, the wearer of a Saree glides like a serene princess. Crossing paths with a group of Indian women dressed up for a special event brings to mind a cloud of demi-goddesses. It is just so exceptionally beautiful.

Next stop, Chinatown. Now countries around the equator generally are the same temperature the year round. Generally.


Singapore starts to get even hotter than usual around April and Chinatown is like a satay pit. It radiates heat. Since moving to the UK I have acclimatised quickly to the 'English Rose' temperament, so when the heat began to make me feel like I was about to take a Jane Austinesque turn I found a shady spot under a fan at the juice stall. Declining to try the avocado cream drink on offer I had the first of many mango juices to sustain my retail therapy. I have yet to find a decent mango in the UK, and for a girl who's ultimate pleasure was the summer season when Mango's would be in abundance in Queensland this was such a treat.


I also find Singaporean architecture fascinating. I don't have any picture of the Black and White's which are typical of older houses on the island, but if you are ever have a chance try to see a few.


What you may start to notice about me is that I love food. I LOVE food. The hazards of growing up in a foodie family, although I have to say I think my attitude towards it is very healthy. Except my lack of self-control!


One of the fabulous discoveries I made this time round in Singapore is that Thai Salmon cakes are fantastic. I am the girl who previously decried fish pies and fish cakes. 'Disgusting!' I cried, 'My fish shall remain whole and untainted!'. That and I hated the smelly, fishiness of English fish pies and fish cakes. So imagine my surprise when I found I absolutely loved these little pink patties of joy! Highly recommended with tamarind soy sauce, Asian greens and white rice. MMmmmm......


So a little more shopping and a lot of fabulous food and my whirlwind trip to Singers was over in a flash. Next stop Australia and my hometown of Brisbane which I hadn't been to for 2 years. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait till tommorow for the next installment. For now I've worked up an appetite with my foodie memories and need to get myself a little dinner before I get stuck into that rehearsal!


Have a lovely bank holiday England.



xx Bella

To everything there is a season...

Hi Folks,

This is it! My new website and this - my new blog, where I will be sharing all the secret details of backstage in the life of a burlesque performer. The grit, the grime, the glory and heartache, and a healthy dose of glitter. Forgive the grammar however, my mother in particular would be underlining large sections of this to send back to me corrected, but you'll just have to put up with it! My thoughts are neither spell corrected or grammar perfected.

The beginning of this website is rather poignant in a way. It heralds a new phase of my life and career. Reflecting on the past year or so I have much to be grateful for and proud of. 

The first of these points was a fortuitous introduction to the Pulp Press people in Brighton, deftly handled by Peter Von Sleaze to whom I am forever grateful. Danny who was preparing for the launch of his latest book Killer Tease was so impressed by my my performance at the launch, along with his bosses that they took me on as official Burlesque dancer for the Pulp Press publishing house! Being part of the Pulp family is an honour and a pleasure.

The upshot is that with the Pulp fiction inspiring me I created a new performance, a rip-roaring go-go dance to Miserlou by Dick Dale. Pulp does give me licence to use more aggressive, fun, 50s and 60s inspirations which balances the more elegant glamour of the 30s & 40s inspired teases I've created on so far. It's important to have balance and I like using music that makes the audience want to get up and shimmy with me.

Second important part of last year. BW bought me a sewing machine and an MP3 player for my birthday. What a man! Burlesque can be expensive work if you're not smart about it and making part of your own costumes is essential to save the pennies. 

I'll be honest, I was crap at home ec. I think we made a pair of shorts and I ended up getting the girl next to me to sew most of mine, and I've heard some horror stories about students putting sewing needles straight through their fingers, eugh. But I've discovered that I'm actually a dab hand at whipping up a costume and now one corner of the living room looks like a craft store exploded in a nasty accident involving many, many sequins. 

But the most important part of the gift was the meaning behind it. Who would have thought a bit of domestic hardware could mean so much. Burlesque widows are aplenty in our industry. They are the supportive rocks of our private lives who feign interest at endless soliloquies on the merits of lilac hotfix crystals, accept the chaos and dry our tears when highly anticipated bookings fall through, and they do on occasion, and it stings. But BW makes it that little bit easier to brush myself off and focus on the next fabulous performance.

Last big (and I mean big!) moment of the year was London Burlesque Festival 2009, Battle Royale. I will elaborate another time but suffice to say it was a fantastic night and I was beside myself with excitement when I won 2nd place Best UK Newcomer. As much as you have to be thick skinned and full of self confidence in this industry, it feels incredible to have the blood, sweat and tears acknowledged officially. What a night.

So, I look to the next phase. I have much more to share with you but I have a large pile of vintage clothes sitting on the sofa waiting to be sorted, my bedroom is a state and I'm still in my nightgown so I suppose I should get on with the day before it slips from under me. Hope you will come back for a peek now and then on my ridiculous life.

xx Bella de Jac