I Dreamed I was in New Orleans

Maiden form bra ad

I dreamed I was in New Orleans in my Maidenform bra.  And so, on that promising note, we begin... 

Much like the bartenders who sling drinks at Maison Bourbon, after people live in New Orleans long enough they tend to get a little tired of hearing 'When the Saints Go Marching In.'  Wherever you live, you probably don't here this song as often as New Orleanians do.  

I'm not saying it's a bad song.  It's a great song.  That's why everyone who comes to New Orleans wants to hear it.  It's just that, after awhile, some people, after day after day of listening to 'When the Saints Go Marching In,'  just throw up their hands and say, "Enough already!"  

And then again, there's the Louis Armstrong & Danny Kaye version.  It's hard to get tired of that version.


I, too, dig Rachmaninoff on and off.

She did drive them wild

What got me thinking about the old Maidenform ad campaign (which ran for 20 years) was that I was walking our dog in the French Quarter the other day, and I was looking up at the balconies while the dog was sniffing the ground, which is how our walks together usually tend to proceed.  Looking up at a balcony on St. Ann Street, what to my wandering eyes should appear but a shirtless man drinking coffee while wearing a bra. 

Maybe he dreamed he was a knockout.  I don't know.  I'm the type who likes to mind his own business, so I quickly looked in the other direction and tried to forget the whole thing.  Naturally, I haven't forgotten it.

Now that's a knockout

All this thinking about brassieres got me to thinking about Dagmar, which, I admit, is something I sometimes do more than I should.  I've provided a link to Dagmar's biography because I know you have no idea who I'm talking about.  

Besides being an early television star, Dagmar starred in a long-running Broadway show called Burlesque.  Her co-star was Burt Lahr, who you know better as the Cowardly Lion.  They were both very good in it, each complimenting the other's talents.

Which leads us to the subject of burlesque in New Orleans, something which I rarely discuss in this format or any other.  New Orleans has a long history of burlesque culture.  It's a culture that is still alive today.  So why don't I ever address this in our blog?  A:  Because it doesn't really interest me and you're captive to the caprices of your humble narrator.  Now, thanks to a guy sitting on a balcony while wearing a bra, I'm going to write a bit about burlesque in New Orleans.

This one's my favorite

Actually, I'm not.  Sorry, it's the old bait-and-switch again.  At least I'm not turning the conversation to travelers' constipation this time.

I'll give you a link to the "official" list of burlesque clubs in the city.  This is it.  Click this text.  I can't make it any clearer: HERE.  

Why am I punting this topic over to neworleansonline.com?  It's because just thinking about these places depresses me and saps out my will to write about any of them.  Given the choice, I would go to see Chris Owens.  And, truth be told, Frau Schmitt and I should go see Chris Owens.  She sponsors an Easter parade every year and Frau Schmitt and I met her once.  She is lovely, inside and out, and she is the embodiment of one facet of what makes New Orleans a great city.  

My second choice, The Swizzle Stick, isn't even listed, and I'm not even that keen on The Swizzle Stick.  It's just that if someone asks me where to see burlesque, the first thing that pops into my mind is The Swizzle Stick.  They occasionally have shows around about midnight.  At least they used to.

I can talk about the other places on the list.  We've been to them and so have our guests, but I'd rather not commit my opinions, or what our guests tell us, to print.  I'll tell you over breakfast if you're interested, though, to tell the truth, nobody has ever asked about New Orleans' burlesque culture.  I'm fine with that.  

Now, for those of you who were too lazy to click on the link to learn who Dagmar was.  Here's a picture:

Va-voom

I find it surprising that no burlesque performer goes by the name of "Dagmar Bumpers."  More probably, someone does and it's only that I don't know about it.  As I say, I'm not really hip to the burlesque "scene."  (See how I used those quotation marks?)  Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who is hip to the burlesque scene that I can ask.  Rest assured, Frau Schmitt and I are real hepcats, but we aren't big fans of fan-dancing or bump-and-grind acts. 

We can tell you about a lot of other things, though.  A lot of other things.

And so it goes

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.