As the sultry jazz standard Harlem Nocturne opens, 10 scantily clad petite to plus-sized women sway their hips side-to-side and coyly cover their chests with giant hot-rouge feather fans. When the saxophone kicks in with the song’s haunting theme, the performers swoop the fans in a half circle over their heads, still covering their breasts with their free hands and forearms. After further teasing the crowd of 400 with partial nudity (their breasts, after all, are covered with adhesive “pasties”), they form a kickline and kick, shimmy and strut.

By day, the Capital City Burlesque performers are ordinary women, but when they take to the nightclub stage, they embody over-the-top flamboyance and sassiness. A popular belief of burlesque is that it’s smut. It’s glamorized soft-pornography. 

A moral ineptitude. But if that were true, why would the neo-burlesque movement attract “average” Canadian women? For Donna Ball, a 28-year-old costume-designer who moonlights as Lily Von Doon and daylights as a receptionist, it is all about donning the glamourous feathers, rhinestones and sequins, then getting on stage and commanding attention.

Ball was originally involved with Wild Rose Revue, one of Edmonton’s first neo-burlesque troupes, as a costume designer. When she was asked by one of the troupe’s dancers, Kim Rackel, to participate as a dancer for a show, she agreed, never guessing that the performer’s thrill would inspire her and Rackel to forge their own troupe. “Donna is a forced co-founder,” jokes Rackel.

“I knew she could dance and was reliable.”

Founded in 2003, Capital City Burlesque was the only troupe in town for a few years, after Wild Rose “moved to Germany.” But with the proliferation of burlesque influence in popular culture — as exemplified by the revival of the pin-up girl look, and ultra-glitzy performers Dita Von Teese and the Pussycat Dolls — the neo-burlesque movement in Edmonton is alive and kicking.

Today, there are several Edmonton-based troupes that perform at local nightclubs such as Pawn Shop and The Starlite Room, including Lascivious Burlesque, Sinfully Sweet and the newly formed The Keyhole Kittens Burlesque Revue.

Burlesque is a form of musical theatre that is a send-up of higher culture. Although the neo-burlesque movement certainly pays homage to the likes of Betty Page and Lili St. Cyr, the acts often mock traditional attitudes toward women, and historical and contemporary expectations of gender roles.

“I think when we put old music on stage and do a burlesque number to it, the humour element is important. We’re making fun of everything,” says Pam Cruise, a PhD student in ethnomusicology at the University of Alberta, who is doing a fieldwork project on the local neo-burlesque scene. Her method involves attending Capital City and Lascivious performances and rehearsals, and learning the dances.

“We think of striptease as exploitation of women, whereas nice girls getting involved with burlesque is permissible. The neo-burlesque move-ment is connected with the sex-positive wave of feminism,” explains Cruise. “So women just have a lot more options. What they’re doing is empowering.”

Some women also feel empowered because the neo-burlesque movement celebrates all shapes and sizes. “[It is] broadening the definition of beauty to be inclusive,” says Cruise. “You might have someone who has a retro-gothic look with the pale skin — not necessarily the tanned blonde.”

A performer isn’t just acting a part or being a dancer onstage; she’s also acting out a variant of herself. “That’s why people have a burlesque name,” says Cruise, who is yet to discover a burlesque name for herself.

For example, Kim Rackel gets in tune with her masculine side and becomes Delilah Mahnhandler. One of her favourite numbers involves plenty of hip thrusts and “over-the-top manly” moves to the tune of AC/DC’s Jailbreak. She even has a moustache for her man numbers and says she feels naked performing without it.

Over the past six years, Capital City Burlesque has transformed itself from a poorly organized group that knew little about choreography and stage production to a professional troupe known for its lavish shows, elaborate custom-made costumes, stage props and rock-show lights.

Sarah Meyer, a.k.a. Bixi Bite, is the founder of Lascivious, but also recently created The Keyhole Kittens. Meyer says it’s hard for women to join an existing troupe. “They come in and they’re not sure about it and there are always inside jokes going on. I find when I start a new group, we’re all on the same page.” New troupes offer other benefits, too. “Every time there’s a new dancer, she tells her friends and family about it. And they start coming to our shows,” Meyer explains. “Every new dancer brings about 20 new people to the show.”

She says that Edmonton’s neo-burlesque movement is growing, but it’s not quite where Meyer would like it to be. Her ideal scene would have at least eight troupes, an annual burlesque festival each year, and an audience of 1,000 per show that keeps coming back so the “girls actually get paid for their art.” To get there, she says, social values need to be more tolerant of burlesque.

“I got fed up with begging charities to take our money. They don’t want to be associated with anything adult in nature,” says the 23-year-old, who originally viewed burlesque as an exciting performance art that could raise money for charities.

Despite its popularity, it may be a while before the mainstream accepts burlesque as a respected art. But these feathered and rhinestone-covered women continue to diligently hack at its pornographic reputation.