Dames Aflame
Paris on Ponce

Text and photos by Frederick Noble

I hadn't been to the full-on Dames Aflame show in a while. Though the tickets are steep ($40, or $75 for VIP seating), I always come away thinking it's worth every penny. This time was no exception. Though there were a couple of acts I'd seen before, most of the show was new and it did not fail to impress for an instant.

There were four shows in two days to choose from, so I picked the closer on Saturday (fortunately, after the glacier that invaded Atlanta on Friday!)

After lurking in a waiting area for the previous show to empty out, the auditorium opened for a general admission sprint. Degenerate CD and I got lucky, hooking up with some VIP's who had empty seats up front.

Things got going with a very funny MC (Buttercup? What the hell was his/her name?), along with random guest appearances, from Cupid to Carol Channing.

I didn't want to use a flash or distract myself fiddling with camera settings so what you see is what you get. Hey, you should'a been there.
As if hilarious transvestites, midgets and hot nearly-naked women weren't enough, they had some comedy/magic stuff in the vein of Andy Kaufman and Neil Hamburger. Cute, ridiculous, funny, and well presented. But aren't reading this review for that any more than I went to the show for it. Bring on the ladies!

There were acts that included dancing, singing, contortionism, more midgets, more comedy, and amazing costumes throughout. I didn't get decent photos of everything, so here's a Whitman's Sampler box of images, appropriate for the season.

Why, yes, that is a giant Scarlett O'Hara singing Dixie while ladies in blue and gray battle it out on stage. Why do you ask?

Then it's out into the snow. Degenerate CD and I asked around about an after-party and got directed to The Clermont but as soon as we walked in the door we knew the cast and crew wouldn't make it. The joint was packed wall to wall for DJ Romeo Cologne's Saturday night funk fest. We had a drink and split, landing at 97 Estoria instead. It was half-empty and the small crowd was not the usual late Saturday gang. I haven't been accosted because of my moustache so many times in half an hour since I grew the thing.

In the morning everything was bright and comparatively warm. Off to Dunch at The Earl for Jeffrey Butzer, pancakes and bacon and a few female friends.

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