As a dancer, Hayek knew from personal experience how the lack of communication between clubs and agencies can result in a dancer not getting paid, as well as other problems such as a dancer not knowing whether a club is nude or topless until she arrives.
Photo by Ann Marie Hayek
The students practice moves taught by a professional
choreographer.
Starting out in a revue show she booked and managed called the Dream Girl Centerfolds, Hayek has traveled from “Portland, Maine, to Portland, Oregon, and everywhere in between.” So when Hayek speaks, the students listen.
After we head to the dance studio, C.C. Sin tells me she’s been dancing for eight years and has no plans to tell anyone back home she attended this class. But why?
“Jealousy,” she says. “The business itself is cutthroat. They want to see other girls fail.”
This was not the feeling I got as I watched the girls zip, strap and Velcro their costumes on. I sense these girls have formed a close bond in the five days they’ve practiced, sweated and revealed nearly all to each other. It is one thing to dance in a dark club with men who are appreciative no matter what you do, but it is quite another to dance topless in a well-lit studio in front of your peers.
I hear C.C. Sin lean over and ask Natalie Ocean, “Do you find yourself turning into a different person when you put your costumes on?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Me too; I would never walk outside of a club looking like this,” she says, laughing.
It is almost like five girls playing dress up, each with their own glittery costume, full makeup and high heels. I see clasped hands in laps and nervous toe tapping.
Five chairs are positioned in a half-circle, spaced out several feet to form the makeshift audience. Each dancer will perform to three songs, and I am witnessing what Hayek tells me is the “final product” from the five days of class.
Today Hayek is playing the role of DJ, and Wells tells her to turn up the music “loud enough so that [she] can’t hear her heels.” Wells is performing her burlesque show for the class because Hayek wants them to see what this kind of show looks like. Most feature entertainers have the standard costumes in their set, but most never do a burlesque performance.
I myself have never seen a feature entertainer’s show much less one with a burlesque repertoire. Hayek tells the girls that men in their fifties and sixties love the burlesque, and their tips prove it, often shelling out $20, $50 and $100.
Before Wells starts her set, Hayek tells the girls a feature show is usually four songs long with the last two songs used to collect tips.
“Only an amateur comes out and starts grabbing money,” Hayek says. “A pro never does that.”
Hayek then starts the music, and Wells transforms into another person. In a bright blue feathered hat with matching boa, five-inch silver heels, blue ballroom gloves and a sparkling corset-looking piece, Wells shimmies and sways to the beat in “Big Spender.” Feature entertainers use their arms a lot more in their performances, which is even more apparent when Wells picks up blue feathered fans more than 3 feet in length and uses them in her next song.
Meanwhile, Hayek is making her way around the room with a camera, taking pictures of Wells and the “audience.” She even comes over and snaps a picture of me, for what reason I don’t know.
Hayek also wants the girls to see what a cape looks like when used correctly in a show. Wells dances to “Bailamos” in nothing but a white cape that “looks really good under a black light,” and as she turns around and around in one spot, the constant spiral movement makes her look like a stripper fairy. When the music stops, Wells fans herself and walks over to the pile of clothes to get dressed.
“That wore me out,” she said.
It was then time for the pupils to strut their stuff and show their mentors what they learned in five days of exotic dancing school. The costumes belong to Hayek, but she says she has some to sell that were given or sold to her from other feature entertainers. Costumes do not make or break the show, however.
“We have an old saying in the industry, ‘It’s not what you take off, it’s how you take it off,’” says Hayek.
C.C. Sin goes first in a lime-green sequined racecar driver jacket and matching hot pants. She dances to Van Halen’s “I Can’t Drive 55,” followed by Heart’s “Barracuda” and then ends her set with floor work to “Covered Me in Oil” by AC/DC. Floor work is generally just like the name suggests—when a dancer lays out a blanket and sensually writhes on the floor to a song of her choice.
Come to find out, C.C. Sin does not spend a minute in the gym. She gets her buff body just by dancing, but she hesitates to tell other dancers that because she said they get jealous and roll their eyes. She also adds that she just started watching what she ate because she’s older now.
Although dancing is a great workout, she says it can be dangerous as well. Sin has broken her foot and fallen on her head trying a new trick on a pole. But there are more than physical hazards accompanying exotic dancing.
“It’s very addictive as far as the attention goes,” she says. “It has to be treated with respect, and if you approach it on a level head you’ll succeed very well.”