Since I live in Paris’ red light district, everyday I walk by a slew of sex shops and strip clubs with names like “Pussy,” “Glamour,” “Two Asses” (as in the animal), and (my personal favorite) “Sexodrome.” But since I was in the mood for a glitzy highbrow version of all that synthetic lingerie, I went straight to the home of burlesque, the Moulin Rouge.

It was an internationally appealing and well-choreographed spectacular. There was even a sultry blonde woman who dove into a glass tank while wielding multiple snakes. The costumes were minimalist, and tended to involve pink feathers and reflective beads. I came out of the theatre in a daze, having seen more firm female bare butts than in all my life. And unless I plan on taking up a job in hip-hop video production or the porn industry, I don’t think I ever will again. Conclusion: the real Moulin Rouge is much better than the Nicole Kidman version.

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