So You Wanna Be a Burlesque Babe? Let’s Talk.

The unofficial but extremely necessary starter pack.

Every week — no exaggeration — someone drops a comment like:
“This looks so fun!”
“I’ve always wanted to try this!”
“How do I get into burlesque?”

And honestly? I love that for you.

Burlesque is fun. But it’s also a commitment, an art form, and in a lot of ways, a spiritual practice. It’s about showing up, stripping down, and letting people witness a version of you that may not even exist anywhere else. So if you’re serious about wanting in, here’s the real deal from someone who’s been doing this for a minute (and who has seen it all).

Let’s start with the most important truth:

Burlesque is for anyone, but not for attention-seekers.
You can come to this for a thousand reasons — theater kid energy, body empowerment, creative expression, midlife reinvention, even as a new workout — and they’re all valid. But if you're doing this just to get someone’s attention, impress your boyfriend, or prove a point to your ex? You’re gonna have a bad time. This isn’t pick-me culture in pasties. It’s performance art with roots, rituals, and responsibilities.

(photo by Dave Wood)

Here’s how I got in:
I said yes to everything. Workshops. Online classes. YouTube tutorials. I signed up for burlesque intensives, learned from drag queens, studied musicality, character, and costuming. I didn’t wait to be discovered. I built it. At home, in my mirror, before anyone ever saw me.

If you're wondering where to start, here's your guide:

1. Take a damn class.
   Whether it’s local or online, it doesn’t matter. Start learning the language of burlesque — how to pose, walk, peel, and play. Learn the difference between a reveal and a strip. Study the history while you're at it. Burlesque has roots in satire, sex work, and resistance. Don’t erase that.

2. Create your stage name.
   This is your alter ego, your shadow self, your superhero. You don’t need to perform right away — sometimes just naming your persona unlocks the power. Put on a robe, pour a glass of something sparkly, and ask: Who is she?

3. Practice for yourself first.
   Perform in your bedroom. Film it (for your eyes only). Dance in the mirror. Light a candle. Make it a ritual. Before the applause, there has to be intimacy — between you and your body, your music, your story.

4. Figure out your why.
   Seriously. Get clear. Is this about confidence? Creativity? Reclaiming something? Expressing what words can’t? Let that be the reason you come back to the stage — not likes, not followers, not fantasy.

5. Respect the craft.
   Yes, burlesque is sexy. Yes, it's fun. But it's also work. It's timing, costuming, choreography, tech rehearsals, bruises, cancellations, and community. Support shows. Tip performers. Volunteer backstage. Be humble and hungry.

6. You don’t have to suck to start — but don’t skip the work.
   I’ll say it louder: everyone starts somewhere, but not everyone should start on stage. Hone your act. Find your rhythm. Ask for feedback from people who know. The stage will wait for you — but you need to be ready for it.

And finally…

Burlesque is storytelling through striptease.
It’s joy, satire, rage, lust, grief, weirdness — all filtered through sequins and lashes. It’s drag, it's theater, it's ritual, it’s rebellion. It’s not about being sexy. It’s about becoming your version of sexy — whatever that means.

So yes, babe. You can do this.
But not just for the attention.
Do it for the power.

—
xo, Pennie Please

P.S. Got questions? Want more behind-the-scenes tea or performer tips? Hit subscribe and stay tuned. The glitter is just getting started.