After a two month hiatus one is back with naturally a very serious and mature blog about my flaps popping out mid performance, so if you’ve no interest in reading about the adventures of my monster beef curtains and their magician’s escapology act mid-performance then look away now. However, if you’ve always wondered how to style out a wardrobe malfunction, not run off stage in a blind panic and live to tell the tale then read on.
So, cast your minds back to the end of September. Yours truly here was performing at the Hoodlum Fang Total Babes 2.0 showcase down in Portsmouth, UK. I traveled down with one of my best buddies Kat, complete with everything I thought I needed for the showcase. A fucktone of make up? Check. Cans of gin? Check. A fully functioning costume that abides by the shows “no lips, no nips” rule? Well.
As we arrived at the showcase, I noticed a bit of a classic front wedgie going on. A mild panic went through my mind, as I had made the rookie error of not taping myself in, but I hadn’t had a flapcident on stage so far, so just assumed I would be fine. Whilst I consider myself a relatively confident performer, and have performed in an outfit that consisted of tit tape and Bad Kitty Bitsy bottoms before now, I have not got the backbone just yet to perform in anything more revealing. I bloody love and admire the skills and bravery of any dancers who can and I am determined to push the boundaries costume wise one day, but for now I will stick to keeping my pants on, or so I thought.
As the showcase began, the performers were straight fire and it was awesome to be watching such a bunch of badasses owning the stage. The show was pure stripper style goodness and I was fucking living for it. Nervous for having to follow these badass babes, but inspired and excited nonetheless.
After gawping in awe at the freestyle queen Lauren Elise King’s stunning performance (seriously she only picked her song out a few hours before performing! Oh to be that cool, calm and collected) it was time for me to hit the stage. The previously mentioned front wedgie kept re-appearing after being adjusted several times, but I tried to adapt the old “keep calm and carry on” mantra in the hope that all would be alright as I performed.
Well shit the bed no it bloody wasn’t. My outer labias decided to take it upon themselves to give the audience their best rendition of the TV show Prison Break and shoot out from other side of my utterly redundant knickers. Seriously it was as if someone had hollered “RELEASE THE FLAPKRACKEN” 50 miles away and my muff dutifully answered the call. Trick wise up the pole I had a few spreadie moves which threw me off, but in this routine literally every floorwork trick I had planned was a cunting bloody spreadie! ARGH! Thank the holy goddess of Felix herself that I have had a fair few freestyle practices in my time, so managed to sneakily freestyle my floorwork to conceal my lively labia. However I could only achieve so much via freestyling, and there were definitely moments where everything but my vagina herself was proudly on display for the audience to see and giving everyone a round of flapplause in the process.
After bravely bowing and shimmying off stage pronto, I felt a werid sense of both pride and relief. Not relief that my performance had finished, but relief that I survived it all with a smile on my face and gave it my best shot. Yes my vadge swallowed my underwear whole right in front of the audience, but hey, when you really think about it nothing that bad happened. No one booed (in fact, the audience were cheering along as normal), I didn’t fall out of a trick or hurt myself, I didn’t run off stage crying and most importantly, the poonani police didn’t bust the doors down and arrest me. Yes wardrobe malfunctions can throw you off while performing, but trust me on this the best thing you can do is style it out as best as you can. I even had performers afterwards tell me they had no idea my performance was freestyled would you believe! A wardrobe malfunction may seem like the world’s most embarrassing occurrence when it takes place, but believe me, in the grand scheme of things it really isn’t- fuck it, it even makes for a funny as hell story!
Finally, I’m not sure if I’ll get in the legal shit for naming and shaming the brand of underwear that failed me and my Mrs Mimsey when we needed them the most, but I want to be honest with you lovely readers, so feel free to drop me a message and I’ll happily tell you where to avoid shopping for performance outfits!