Slutty von Wiggle
Tonight it all got a little bit sexy. A few of us went to a dance class with the London Academy of Burlesque.
Regular readers will recall that I am normally incapable of learning a routine. Not so tonight, thanks to our excellent teacher, the wonderfully named Felixy Splits. She was the perfect combination of sexy, cheeky and funny – a bit like Babs Windsor in her Carry On heyday. She put us utterly at ease and coaxed the inner sex kitten out of even the most inhibited participants.
We learned a routine and then got it to smoulder a little. At the start of the class I thought that would be impossible but the dancing brought to the surface something not normally unleashed without a few vodkas and some fairly top-level flirting.
We wiggled and shimmied and teased our way through the final performance and left the studio with a noticeable strut. I even caught myself on the escalator at Oxford Circus with a raised hip and a naughty smile.
They run courses or drop in sessions so you can be as committed as you like. It’s not strenuous – you wear high heels and a dress – but it’s good for the body image, the playfulness of spirit, and probably for whoever is lucky enough to see you get your kit off next.