They say the show must go on.

But they never said it wouldn’t involve superglue, panic-laced laughter, and a trail of sequins leading straight to the dressing room floor (and the GP’s office).

I’d love to say this post is fictional.
It is not.

✨ CHAPTER 1: GLITTER WHERE?

Look - I’ve accepted by now that glitter has its own sentience.

It gets everywhere. I mean that in the spiritual, emotional, and unfortunately, anatomical sense.

Once, during a particularly glamorous (and heavily glittered) show week, I had many a routine involving an especially sparkly, glitter-covered costume.

Great routine.

Fantastic audiences.

All was well.

Until I went for a very routine gynaecology appointment a few days later.

And I quote the gynaecologist: “Oh! Well that’s … festive!”

I couldn’t even deny it. I just nodded, dead inside, and said: “I work in burlesque.”
She said: “Ah. OK.”

No further questions were asked.

👒 CHAPTER 2: The Wig Incident

The routine was beautiful. I was powerful. I was serving glamour, skill, choreography and confidence.
It was working. The audience was right there with me.

And then … the finale.

I reached out with flourish, one arm sweeping across dramatically - and my bracelet caught the edge of my hat’s veil.

In one glorious, slow-motion betrayal, my hat was ripped clean off ... bringing my wig with it.

Five minutes of elegance.
Five seconds of total, public, head-covered-in-a-wig-cap-only humiliation.

The crowd whooped. (Some in laughter, some possibly in horror.)

I bowed. Wigless. Dignified. Possibly a little sweaty.

The number was never quite the same again.

🔥 CHAPTER 3: Hot Glue, Cold Sweat

Burlesque is 50% performance, 50% knowing how to fix a rhinestoned costume crisis with a glue gun, a safety-pin, a zip-tie, and three minutes to curtain.

I’ve burnt off the ends of false nails. I’ve glued lashes to props. I’ve fused myself to a feather fan in a flat panic.

I’ve met every deadline with caffeine, chaos, and the faint smell of melting plastic.

And you know what?
The audience never knows.

Unless, of course, my jewelled bra unclips mid-routine and flies into the second row like a glitter grenade.

Which has also happened.

🎭 CHAPTER 4: If You Know, You Know

If you’ve ever had to pin your dignity back into place before going onstage – you’re welcome.

If you’ve ever removed a costume to find glitter, rhinestones, or loose eyelashes in unholy locations - you’re one of us.

If you've ever prayed that your 'safety thong' doesn't creep any further up your foof - I HEAR YOU!

Burlesque isn’t just about looking effortless.
It’s about recovering from a wardrobe disaster with so much confidence, the audience thinks it was part of the act.

And most importantly - it’s about laughing. Loudly. (And probably doing so alongside the audience!)

Glitter-covered-chaos, and probably all duct-taped back together.
Because in this world, the mess is part of the magic.

⬇️Tell me your best costume disaster in the comment box below.

I’ll be over here, supergluing my dignity back together ...

Boss Lady - Lara Gothique

Founder, Curator, Choreographer, Swamp-Witch, and Slightly Feral Producer of The Velvet Burlesque™

© Lara Gothique - Velvet Burlesque™
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