These nights bring only restless sleep. Theyâ€™re still in my dreams. It shouldnâ€™t be this way, but Iâ€™m not sure anyone could do better; itâ€™s hard to view perfection then adhere to living a normal life. They haunt me as I spend my time at the water cooler during work, conversing with coworkers as if nothing ever happened. Yet I know it, and the girls know it and so does everyone else who ventured into the Crazy Horse Paris that night. If you know whatâ€™s good for you, you will race to become afflicted with this condition as well.
Itâ€™s not that the Crazy Horse Paris is the best burlesque show in town, itâ€™s just that it is the best burlesque show in town. Unlike some of the other shows on the strip the Crazy Horse Paris is steeped in tradition. Carried over from its original form from the true Paris show, developed in 1951, it is one of the wonders of the world, and anything else would be uncivililized.
To claim a strip tease is a must see â€“ when Iâ€™m living in L.A , the skin and sin capital of the world â€“ is akin to asking a whale to leave the Atlantic Ocean for the Gulf of Mexico. Sure it might be a tad warmer, but itâ€™s all water to me. However, in this case the difference is closer to taking the same whale out of the ocean, and placing the aforementioned into your sisterâ€™s kiddie pool. Like it or not, one place is going to be more accommodating and more appropriate than the other. The same holds true for the Crazy Horse Paris at the MGM. It is simply the premiere place to see such an intimate and sensual show.
Looking around the room, you are no longer located in the hustle and bustle of the casino. There are no slot machines chiming, no smoke wafting and most certainly there are no cell phones! What replaces the modern marvels of electricity is the pure, raw power and sexuality of the place these young fawns call the Crazy Horse Paris.
Standard casino dÃ©cor is no longer present. It has since been replaced with the look and feel of Paris in 1951, where the show was originally created by Alain Bernardin. The red motif gives the sense youâ€™re in a district, where a â€œred lightâ€ means more than stop! As I settled in my seat I became keenly aware of the close proximity the audience is to the stage, in this instance there wasnâ€™t a bad seat in the house. As the lights went black, I knew I was in for something amazing.
Crack! The music begins and my ears rang with the first grooves of Princeâ€™s â€œPheremone,â€ a song off the Come album that you hadnâ€™t heard in years. This alone let me know that this is a crazy, beautiful place with amazing taste. The sounds of Princeâ€™s songs deliver more than just time for the ladies, the slight delay in the decay from the snare of Michael B. delivers sexiness!! As the beat pulsates I began to find myself drawn into the living, breathing pulse of the room. This room where before 12 girls move simultaneously to the sound of one drum. A very sexy drum.
This is just the beginning of a night now deeply imbedded in my mind. A dazzling display of womanhood set before me, with a new sensation and display at every turn. As I look before me, I begin to admire the nearly nude figure whose motionless body is being rotated around a center stage. Her skin is poised as if cast in alabaster, but all the while lights and shadows cascade across her pristine figure.
These lights and shadows have significance; they are revealing the symbol of the zodiac she represents. Then as the lights go down and the curtain lifts up each of the females begins her performance. Most of them are solo sexy numbers that left me just on the verge of almost thinking I saw more than I was supposed to.
My mind was awash in a sensory overload of the flesh and illumination. My heart raced with the sublime joy that was viewing a dancerâ€™s body in all itâ€™s perfection. Their shapely and firm, as if God himself took the weekend off to work solely on her form.
Yet in this house, it seems the majestic hands were so thoroughly involved in enjoying the creation, her work didnâ€™t stop there. These machinations manifest not only one sister, but a bevy; all cut in amazingly desirable individual proportions, yet so uniform it is hard to distinguish one from another.
And that is where the true magic of the Crazy Horse lies, in its ability to remind me of the beauty emanating from all women. In this sea of indiscriminate shapes and sizes , I realized it is not important to love the performance of the one, â€œsheâ€ the usher mentioned, but rather the beauty of them all. Women are the divine beings, shown in any light, be they our mothers our sisters our lovers, they are the closest thing we have to heaven on earth.
This fact is well known to the proprietors of the Crazy Horse Paris, and the sooner I become a part of the audience, the quicker I embraced their guiding light. In this case at least, you will see knowledge is power, and to know these young ladies is truly to love them.
Written by Neftalie Williams