There I was. Onstage, my ass out, a tall slender, possibly transsexual MC standing to one side cat-calling into a mic, and a drop dead sexy dominatrix (actual woman, I promise) behind me, cracking me with a whip. Before we deconstruct this scenario any further, let me just say that it was a drastically delicious way to get free drinks for the night… but my cheeks still hurt.
This scene is a typical one when you attend Miss Kitty’s Parlour, L.A.’s notorious “circus disco dance party and electronic cabaret event.” Since it began, Miss Kitty’s Parlour has been described as an underground electro party, goth party, fetish party, gay party, burlesque party, even a strip club. But although it can admittedly get kinda gay, and there’s fetish sights and sounds all around, and yes, there’s even frequent stripping (by performers and patrons alike), it’s none of the above, or maybe all of the above… I’m horrible at math. I’d call it a kinky-chic, burlesquey, fetish-friendly freakfest in Hollywierd, CA. If you’ve been there, you probably have the marks to prove it.
Since its inception, the party was helmed by a dark and lovely, if quite full-figured, Mexican-American mistress named Miss Kitty. She formed The Filthy Family, which is made up of male, female, and combo male-slash-female performance artists, go-go dancers, DJs, and promoters affiliated with the party. After seven hardcore years of catering to Hollywood’s insatiable appetite for a frisky electro party—that really doesn’t get enough credit for it’s fine taste in electronic, industrial, even old school bootie hip-hop music—the event often attracts the likes of Mickey Avalon (who first performed here), Dita Von Teese, and Marilyn Manson. Miss Kitty founded the freaky fiesta with The Boulet Brothers, event promoters and the ringleaders/choreographers of one of the exotic erotic performance art troupes that take Miss Kitty’s stage every Friday night at the Dragonfly on Santa Monica Blvd. "We are sort of fine with and ready to accept any label (after bucking the system for years) but I guess I would call it a pansexual dance party and cabaret," Jaime Nine, one of the Boulet Brothers tells me.
The night I was there, a drop dead gorgeous fetish model named Masuimi Max performed.
I noticed that the crowd was composed of 20 percent trannies, transvestites, and drag queens… yes, I’ve been told there’s a difference. Another 20 percent are wacky, off-the-wall club kids decked in ridiculous outfits. Another 20 percent is, for some reason or another, really fat Chicanas in lingerie and their Mexabilly boyfriends (it’s L.A., homes). Then, another 20 percent are those sexy as hell, Suicide Girl-types, the kind I’m there to see. The last 20 percent are douchebag guys, dressed to the nines in jeans and t-shirts, who are there for those Suicide Girl-types (although some end up going home with trannies). And finally 20 percent are voyeuristic normal people who just want to check all this out. Does that add up to 100 percent? Oh, well. I do notice a lot of “street jizz,” which is what I call the kinda lowdowners who will blow someone in an alley. But there’s a lot of respectable trash, too.
So where were we? Oh yeah, I’m getting my ass spanked in the middle of nightclub in front of 200 freaks and a handful of normal people who like to watch freaks cheering loudly. I used to consider myself part of the latter, but it appears I have freakish tendencies and my scruple is nearly non-existent when I’m plastered (like, even more than yours).
The way I end up on stage is pretty mundane. I was rapping to some tatted-up beauty with a ring through her nose, fishnets and seven-inch heels (and genuine female from what I can tell). She had been on stage earlier doing some sort of routine that involved spanking a girl who looked just like her. It was extremely hot and bothersome.
On the dancefloor, after her number, I cozy up to her. I figured on approaching Tim Burton’s wet dream like I would any other girl at a bar: I offer her a drink. She doesn’t want one. Now, with a normal girl you’d think I struck out. But most normal girls take the drink even if they have no intention of giving you the time of day (or night). This is not a normal girl. The hoop nose ring and neck-to-toe tattoos express that from a mile away. Her (stage) name. It was Danna Darling.
“I don’t drink alcohol. But if you find a joint we can go smoke it,” she says in a sly way.
What coinkidink, I have one. So we’re puffing and who comes to stand in between us but some little pink-haired gremlin of a chick. Apparently they’re girlfriends or some shit, but I was into this Darling, so I ask her if I can give a kiss. I know these types so I came up with a good reason, because she’s a “goddess” and I’m “worshipping” her. That made Darling’s pale, inked complexion blush. “Sure,” she says.
But little gremlin had to have a say. “Okay, fine, you’re okay with that right? He’s respectful? Right? Okay,” She tells Darling, who isn’t listening to a word her girlfriend is saying.
As I kiss Darling, the little pink haired gremlin tells me, “She’s my girlfriend. She does whatever I say.” Yeah right.
At one point in the night we were joined by this crazy girl who had one eyebrow completely waxed and bejeweled, and Johnny Rocket, one of the Filthy Family’s cast members. Johnny Rocket dresses like a trampy whore, in heels and spandex, but talks like a pretty normal dude, which throws me off. But this whole place throws me off, especially the tranny and/or transsexual who butted into my conversation with Darling to show off her heels. I ask her if she was Alexis Arquette. Johnny Rocket nudges me, “Don’t say that. How mean.” So I ask Johnny if he’s friends with Arquette, “cause if anyone is being insulted, it’s her.”
After a number of shots, I ask Darling if there’s anything else I can do. That’s when she tells me it’d be “really cool” if I got up on stage. So I did. And that’s how I found myself onstage getting spanked publicly for the first time in my life. Now, the dom chick must have smacked my ass as hard as she possibly could. I mean, I know she did! I didn’t hear as thunderous a clap when she smacked others.
“You hit me hardest, didn’t you?” I ask her on the way down.
Her response? In the cutest little voice you’ll ever hear she says, “No, I hit everyone that hard…,” and then she did a curtsey. I thought I’d be embarrassed when I got off stage but every person dressed as a female in the club was just smiling at me, including Darling, and her lil gremlin girlfriend. I knew then that when I got home from Miss Kitty’s, I’d need a shower… the kind that washes away sin.
I can see you… but not like, in a stalker way or anything like that.