April 9, 2006: My Underwear Revolution gets the bum's rush in militaristic melody

"Lily, I'm really not sure if it's a good idea for you to be parading lingerie models around in public here in Mainland China," Amy Sacco tells me backstage a few moments before my Cultural Revolution ballet, "The Red Women's Lingerie Detachment", is set to begin on an outdoor stage in front of Shanghai's Pearl of the Orient Tower. Amy is helping me with some last minute changes to Comrade Lulu's outfit.

"What do you think, Comrade Amy - Bali, Le Mystere, Barely There, or Puma?" I ask, ignoring her comment as I hold up various sets of red bras and panties. Today I am wearing a smart Mao suit, which has been customized by a local tailor to look like a Mao suit designed by Coco Chanel.

"But Lily, I went to see the Rolling Stones here last night and the Western media had widely reported that the Communist Party's Ministry of Culture demanded that the Stones cut five of their racier songs from their set," Amy continues. "This ballet of yours seems a lot more risque than 'Honky Tonk Woman'!"

"Don't be silly, darling! Haven't your heard? I am now in the Communist Party! My dear friend, Comrade Zhou Enlai-Manchu III, had me presented to the Party during a cocktail reception at a delightful French Colonial mansion just the other night," I inform her proudly as I gesture toward Comrade Zhou. When Amy turns in his direction, the maverick Party member is caught taking a long drag from his opium pipe.

"Lily, I can barely breathe in this push-up bra!" Lulu moans. "It's not my size!"

"Bon courage, comrade," I tell her. "Your breasts look magnificent. After all, you're the star of the show--you must have presence!" Over a dozen Chinese female ballet dancers, clad in skimpy red bras and panties and holding rifles, are standing in line by the stage's entrance waiting to begin their unconventional performance.

"Okay, Comrade Lulu, you're ready to go," I say as I thrust a prop gun into her reluctant hands. "I'm going out there now to announce the revolution to the audience."

I step out from behind the red velvet curtain and onto the stage, surveying the crowd gathered before me: Chinese pop stars Faye Wong, Aaron Kwok, and Nicholas Tse; fashion writers from around the world, including Suzy Menkes and Hilary Alexander; Jack Beat sitting next to Diane Pernet; Bruce LaBruce sitting next to Nicky Hilton (Paris is a no-show); the editors-in-chiefs of Chinese Vogue, Cosmo, Elle and Vice; the managing editor of Outer Mongolian Teen Vogue; the underwear editor for Republic of Congo Cargo (which, alas, is folding after the June issue); Dana Dickey from Conde Nast Traveler, who is having a rather animated conversation on her cell phone.

"My dear comrades of the media and pop star worlds," I say grandly. "There is an underwear revolution stirring....and I'm not talking bra burnings. Underwear is the great equalizer, the garment of the Proletariat....So, today I present to you my version of a classic Cultural Revolution ballet: The Red Women's Lingerie Detachment!"

As the theme song of the ballet begins pumping through the sound system, the lingerie-clad revolutionaries bound across the stage, twirling their rifles and gyrating in a way that would make Madonna blush. The lyrics, sung in Mandarin and English, have been re-written by me:

"Communism is the only path....Underwear is Truth!"

"I can't believe you've actually talked me into this," Lulu whimpers, as I tighten her bra another notch before shoving her out into the middle of the stage. A young Chinese man wearing nothing but a Ching Dynasty cap, complete with braided ponytail, and pair of 2xist black low-rise briefs--an "Evil Landlord"--dances toward Lulu as the music swells. Lulu performs her mock execution of the counter-revolutionary villain and then, just as we rehearsed one-hundred times, gets down on her hands and knees doggy-style and prepares to deliver Madame Mao's infamous line. But the words seem to be stuck in her throat.

"I am Mao's dog!" I hiss at her from the wings. "Say the bloody line!" Lulu's face suddenly drains of all color and the dancers freeze, dropping their rifles. A few start running off the stage toward me. "What in Lenin's name...?" I begin, and then look out into the audience and see a large tank rolling toward the seated guests.

Panic erupts as fashion writers and celebrities begin screaming and running in all directions. The tank rolls to a stop and the tip of its gun barrel rests against Dana Dickey's shoulder blades--but the editor is still too engrossed in her cell phone coversation to take notice. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a phalanx of riot gear-clad soldiers from China's People's Liberation Army advances toward the crowd and the stage. One of the soldiers takes a swing at Hilary Alexander with his billy club and then grabs her by the arm and twists it behind her back. "Get your hands off me!" the feisty fashionista yells. "I'm a British fashion journalist!!" The PLA soldiers rush backstage and begin rounding up the dancers and putting them in handcuffs.

"Comrade Zhou, where are you?!" I scream. "Tell them I'm a member of the Party! Tell them to release the prisoners!" I spy Comrade Zhou slumped in the corner near a pile of panties, out cold in an opium nod. I hear a loud scream and spin around just in time to see one of the soldiers grab Lulu and shackle her wrists behind her back. "Now, see here!" I shout at the soldiers. "I am a New York fashion publicist and a member of the Communist Party, and you cannot treat my models and guests this way! I'm going to call the American Embassy and the Party chairman!" As I reach for my cell phone, a soldier surprises me from behind, grabs my phone and slaps a pair of handcuffs on me.

"I'm afraid the American Embassy cannot help you, madame," one of the soldiers informs me. "Everyone here is in severe violation of Chinese Law. We received calls about this from the Ministry of Culture, the Ministry of Fashion, and President Hu Jintao himself only an hour ago. Your embassy has been notified of your fate--we are taking you to a Maoist Re-Education Camp in the Chinese countryside."

Lulu wails like a banshee as we are all dragged away and packed into paddy wagons.

Comments

[filep motwary]

i love your blog

[ytorlando]

Omigod-I am howling! Did Suzy Menkes get away? I wouldn't think she or Ms. Pernet could run fast or far-

Good luck with the Re-Education Camp, and try to look on the bright side, it's cheaper than NYU or Columbia.

[FrankaPoto]

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