What’s Left of the Las Vegas Showgirl?

Showgirls have a knack for attaching their G-strings to fishnet stockings using precisely seven tiny hooks. Too many, and the metal becomes visible through the fabric, ruining the illusion after hours of embellishing oneself with glitter, feathers, sequins, and a kaleidoscope of rhinestones. After all, when all eyes are on your backside, you don’t want any glaring metal distracting the audience. On the contrary, too few hooks, and risk remains—of wardrobe malfunctions or overexposure. The essence of a showgirl lies in her sensual allure and mystery. The key? Keeping some details tantalizingly unclear.

Another classic showgirl trick involves applying nail polish to the back of inexpensive jewelry to prevent skin discoloration and using wig tape for securing pasties, as it is the gentlest adhesive. When it comes to crafting your own pasties, get ready for a personalized adventure; every individual’s body is unique, influencing the coveted tassel spin. “There’s a real science behind it. If your pasties aren’t spinning, you probably need to adjust their weight or length,” explains Hazel Honeysuckle.

Hazel Honeysuckle is a performer with a showgirl flair, gracing the stage of Absinthe, a contemporary circus show by Spiegelworld. I don’t learn her real name because she keeps it a mystery, smiling and fluttering her faux lashes at my inquiries, guiding me to allow the legendary photographer Susan Meiselas, known for her iconic images of strippers and S&M workers, to capture her essence.

As I observe Hazel’s face, it feels oddly familiar. That face appears on billboards near Route 15 and graces the tops of taxis along the famous Strip. It’s the visage of “The Green Fairy,” a character noted for her flawless hair, dramatic beauty mark, and a sparkling green push-up bra. But as I sit in her trailer outside Caesars Palace ahead of her performance, another side of Hazel emerges. Her natural beauty, framed by softly balayaged hair, contrasts sharply with the extravagant persona. She is clad in a black robe, green sweatpants, and black Crocs adorned with a strawberry charm.

During the next half hour, she focuses intently on her compact mirror, meticulously applying contour powder, winged eyeliner, and a vibrant magenta lipstick from Maybelline. Moving on, she adds a shimmering golden eyeshadow. “What’s this called?” I ask, ready with my notepad.

“Nefertitty,” she responds.

“Nefertiti?”

She holds up the palette for confirmation. Nefertitty.

With each brushstroke, Hazel’s true visage metamorphoses, revealing a vintage siren persona. Gradually, her sweatpants disappear, and in their place appear shimmering fishnets and her sparkling G-string. Finally, she takes a deep breath, her smile beaming with anticipation.

Inside a bustling circus tent, an eclectic crowd sits on mismatched metal chairs, ordering flamboyant cocktails like the Fairy Drip and a “No Pants” burger as the volume of the music rises. Following an opening act featuring a man stacking a pile of chairs (trust me, it’s cooler than it sounds), the emcee, “the Gazillionaire,” in his suspenders, invites the audience to welcome The Green Fairy.

In a dazzling entrance, she descends from above, landing gracefully on a table where she begins to shimmy.

“Now that the gloves are off, how do you feel about the rest?” Hazel quips, and the crowd erupts, cheering as she begins to disrobe.

Despite Las Vegas tourism taking a hit, down 11% this year, the focus on its female performers shines brightly. Following an October 3 release, Taylor Swift’s 12th album, The Life of a Showgirl, features an album cover where Swift dons a rhinestone costume originally designed by Bob Mackie for the iconic Jubilee! revue at Bally’s Las Vegas.

The image of a showgirl resonates with many Americans, having been depicted in films like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and the cult classic Showgirls; celebrities like Cher and Kylie Jenner have made statements in glamorous interpretations of their headpieces on red carpets. The real deal, they brought excitement and grace to casino stages with their lengthy legs, vibrant smiles, and show-stopping figures.

In 1931, amidst the Great Depression, Nevada took a chance with the legalization of casinos while the Hoover Dam was under construction. This led to a flood of male workers into the Mojave Desert, quickly turning Las Vegas into a hotspot for indulgence

Years later, mobster Bugsy Siegel revolutionized the gambling scene by opening the Flamingo—a lavish hotel and casino meant to transform Las Vegas into a luxurious getaway, though he would not live to see it succeed, being shot dead in 1947. Following his footsteps, other glamorous, extravagant resorts emerged, including the $15 million Tropicana, which opened in 1957, boasting elegant features like a prominent pool and a lavish tulip fountain. To enhance casino revenues, a vital element was live entertainment imported directly from France. The Stardust Resort and Casino debuted the first Las Vegas showgirl show, Lido de Paris, in 1958, closely followed by the illustrious Folies Bergere at the Tropicana a year later.

By the 1960s, the showgirl had reached a pinnacle, transforming into a genre all her own. Unlike burlesque, which focused on extended erotic stripteases, showgirls embraced elaborate costumes and theatricality, often liberally showcasing their bodies amid high production values. Performance norms were strict; height requirements mandated that artists be at least 5’8”, limited breast sizes dictated a fit for Champagne coupes, and their footwear had to consist solely of high heels. The general demeanor was one of enchanting beauty and inviting mystery. The lavish productions graced venues like the Flamingo, the Tropicana, the Stardust, alongside Minsky’s Follies at the Dunes Hotel, and Hallelujah Hollywood! at the MGM Grand. Many of these spectacular acts were choreographed by the legendary Donn Arden, who defined the showgirl’s signature look with sequins, feathers, headpieces, and eventually, less clothing. When Jubilee! opened at Bally’s in 1981, legends say the incredible costumes—and their Swarovski crystals—caused a global shortage. Their glamorous presence soon infiltrated pop culture, finding their way into films like Diamonds Are Forever and The Godfather Part II.

However, by the late 1970s and early 1980s, Vegas began to change. The RICO Act targeted organized crime, leading to the imprisonment of mob bosses, thus paving the way for corporate entities. Luxury retailers, celebrity chefs, and regulations made their milieu the new norm. Just as Bugsy Siegel had previously done, the ‘in’ entertainment became Quebec’s Cirque du Soleil in the 1990s, which overshadowed the once iconic showgirls and their daring acts.

“They’ve Cirqued us to death,” Lisa Malouf Medford, a former Folies Bergere showgirl, remarked in 2018 to The Washington Post. “I loved the mob. They protected you.” Productions like Hallelujah Hollywood! came to a close in 1981, followed by Lido de Paris in 1991, and the beloved Folies Bergere in 2009. The final curtain fell on Jubilee! in 2016.

In contemporary Las Vegas, the classic showgirl has become essentially extinct. Although street performers dressed in rented costumes still populate the Strip, posing for photos with tourists, the true essence of a Las Vegas showgirl faded when Jubilee! closed its doors. “The genuine Las Vegas showgirl basically went extinct with the closure of Jubilee!,” Dita Von Teese told Vogue, despite still acknowledging their influence in her performances at the Venetian.

Yet, Gypsy Wood shines as a performer at The Party at Superfrico, a unique dining experience that described itself as “Las Vegas’s Las Vegiest Place.” Her legacy is striking; her grandmother was a showgirl, and her mother entertained as a go-go dancer at Kings Cross Sydney and a nightclub in New Zealand called Coconut Jungle, where dancers performed in cages while bouncers metaphorically hosed away unruly patrons. After eloping with an actor, she christened her daughter Gypsy Rose, inspired by the burlesque star Gypsy Rose Lee.

From her earliest memories, Gypsy’s mother would inspire her, insisting, “Get out there and perform!” As traditional Vegas showgirls vacated the limelight, Gypsy crafted her reinvention. Pursuing dance studies at the Victorian College of Arts in Melbourne, she created an engaging standup striptease that debuted at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2017, catching the attention of a Spiegelworld scout who brought her to Las Vegas.

Now, here she is, enjoying a plate of spaghetti in her Cosmopolitan dressing room while applying makeup. Her eyeshadow palette is so caked with glue from fake eyelashes that the brand label has faded away. Nearby, trained acrobat Pawel Walczewski reads a book titled The Millionaire Fastlane. Further down the room, Alec Batton, who performs in drag as a sultry cow named MooNaysha, jokes about being a “dairy queen” while styling his eyebrows with Elmer’s glue. Meanwhile, fellow performer Penny Wren applies her eyeliner with military precision, and tonight’s emcee Laurie Hagen, having worked at Paris’ famous Crazy Horse, studies the seating chart keenly.

A few hours later, I catch Gypsy in action on stage before an audience of 50, each having paid $150 for a ticket. It’s an experience that must be witnessed firsthand, but I’ll attempt to paint the picture: Gypsy, clad in lingerie, a fur coat, and a daringly short red dress, attempts (and intentionally fails) to juggle spinning plates. When they inevitably crash, she breaks into a dance routine, ending with a hysterically hairy merkin reveal.

After the performance, we retreat to an empty dressing room where she applies ice to her nose—an injury from the performance plate that left her bleeding. Her vibrant red hair cascades over her shoulders as she expresses her hope that it isn’t broken.

Gypsy fascinates more than just me; her home has been featured in The New York Times, and she recently landed a role in Gia Coppola’s film The Last Showgirl. Vogue showcased her portraits in an article published this week. Our conversations span everything from Taylor Swift to ex-boyfriends, and even the topic of pubic hair emerges—“Don’t laser it! You’ll appreciate it more as you age!” We swap musings about facial beauty standards and how self-absorbed we know we sound, yet we genuinely care. We also discuss her mother’s past, noting the extraordinary costumes of the past. But she also candidly reflects on the misogyny her mother faced, prompting a resigned gesture from Gypsy.

As she now enters her 40s, Gypsy continues to captivate audiences, receiving applause and cheers for every seductive move. “Showgirls? We aren’t girls,” she asserts confidently. “You can be a showgirl well into your 100s as it’s no longer solely for the male gaze. It’s about becoming an entertainer.”

There’s undeniable truth in her words. The harsh world outside can be unkind, yet within this space, everything is vibrant and joyful, brimming with sensual women, strong men, and amusingly cheeky drag cows. So why not indulge, unwind, and enjoy life together… even if that means spending a bit more?

I finally make my way back to my room at Caesars Palace, my phone buzzing madly with work emails and messages from unexpected exes, as well as jarring headlines about censorship and violence striking at the core of free speech—if it even remains intact. Standing in a meticulously designed monument to democracy’s birthplace, I toss my device into my tote bag and wander off to a blackjack table, hoping for a lucky hand in a game I barely understand.