A couple of Wednesdays ago we were one of the lucky few to feast our eyes on the very first outing of Forever Crazy in London, aka Paris’ Crazy Horse. We trotted along to the star-studded event to get a good eyeful of scantily clad-to-naked dancers and our mouths around some tasty cupcakes that after having seen said scantily-clad dancers, with their beyond perfect bodies writhing around on stage, didn’t seem so appetising.
We’d heard many a great thing about Paris’ infamous Crazy Horse, dubbed the ‘most avant-garde cabaret in Paris’, which consists of a team of classically trained dancers kitted out in colourful wigs and variations of next to nothing, prancing around on stage in different theatrical scenarios. In the first scene the girls marched out onto stage dressed head to toe (in a more pared down version, we might add) as members of the Queen’s guards, complete with bear skins, and stamping their feet and saluting the audience, in true Brit-style. In another scene dancers gyrated around poles (or were they trees? we were a little distracted by the bodies) in nothing but dental floss thongs and chiffon kaftans, leaving very little to the imagination. There were group scenes (down boys) – the what looked like synchronised swimming was by far one of our favourites, as the dancers made shapes with theirs legs in the air. Then there were the solo scenes, equally erotic. One dancer with afro hair, who looked a little too much like Crazy Spice for our liking, with animal print lighting projected onto her body, raged inside a cage and demonstrated the most ridiculous dance moves that we got quite exhausted just watching her, and another – a Dita von Teese-style dancer, sprawled across a Dali Mae West-esque lips sofa and writhed around in stocking and suspenders. Phew, hot stuff.
As we sat next to our friend sipping on cocktails and no longer cold champagne, we got increasingly hot under the collar, as girl after girl wearing very little except stockings, suspenders (perhaps a bra if they were lucky), then stripped down to next to nothing but a triangle strategically placed on their nether regions and clever lighting projected onto their bodies to preserve their modesty, erotically pranced and danced around the stage. We thought to ourselves, as the crazy horse seduced the audience with their Parisian feminine wiles, if we were ever to be turned by the fairer sex, one of those girls would surely be the one to do it. It was a spectacle to behold, but one that will no doubt be a little marred by the hoards of stag dos making a beeline to the tent to get a good gander at some seriously sexy bodies.
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Words by Marissa Cox.