A MUSE MONDAYS: Kensie Vicious

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Photo cred. John Reed

Today’s muse is one of my first and closest friend, true friend, in Toronto’s burlesque scene. She has tattoos. She designs undies. She’s a nerd. Everybody knows that. She brings me country style butter tarts, even though she’s vegan. I think she enjoys thinking of me getting so much pleasure from something she gave me. She can giggle with a flicker of the devil, but she’s the sweetest schemer I’ve ever met. This pussy-du-jour has been around since my very first day of burlesque. She tackles me with puppy love. And even though she is strong competition for title of ultimate Klutz, her tenacity is one of her signatures. I am proud to fight the good fight with this lady, even though she says it’s not a fight. Ladies and gentlemen, and those who are neither; Kensie Vicious!

Gracie: Thank you for taking time to answer a few of my questions. First off,  how did you get your name?

Kensie: Y’know those games where you find your pornstar name based on your first street name and first place throwing up in public or whatever? Kinda like that, except I chose it based on living in Kensington Market four of the five years I’ve lived in the city, and being a fan of the Sex Pistols (Sid Vicious). Boom. Kensie Vicious.

Gracie: How long have you been on the scene?

Kensie: On the life scene? 25 years. On the burlesque scene? A year. But hell, do I feel like I’ve been building up to this forever.

Gracie: Signature colour?
Naked.

Gracie: What was your burlesque ah-ha moment?

Kensie: I allowed myself to decline gigs and take a step back a few months ago. I said yes to everything and I was pumping out acts that I wasn’t PASSIONATE about. I’ve just returned to performing, debuting some new acts for Belle’s Boudoir….a “make-or-break” show, if you will….these were acts that I REALLY gave a shit about. I felt them, and the audience felt them. It was an incredible moment of understanding my alter ego and my own sense of awareness in front of an audience.

Gracie:  Does your audience have a favorite body part?

Kensie: My mind. The audience loves me for my mind………….kidding. My butt and my tattoos, probably.

Gracie:  What is your favorite part of a new act?

Kensie: The costuming! Oh god, do I love costuming. I’m a fashion design drop out, my brain goes into overdrive when I design new pieces. So many fabrics and rhinestones and…..messes. *cue glitter bomb explosion sound*

Gracie:  If you weren’t a showgirl, what would you be?

Kensie: I would probably be back in university by now! (Not for fashion, that über stylish ship has sailed). The last year of actively performing has gone by so quickly! Granted, it’s a much-needed creative outlet, but I’m sure my fellow show ponies can attest to it being a VERY time-consuming hobby.

Gracie: Do you think you’ll ever retire?

Kensie:  *.*

Gracie: And our end cap. Loaded question, do you have any words for budding showgirls?

Kensie: I cannot emphasize this enough… Find your style. Allow your humor/sweetness/mega vixen/whatever your “thing” is, to come out. Play on things that come naturally and work your ass off (but not actually off) on things that don’t. And if it ever stops being fun, take a step back and reassess.

Gracie: Kensie, thank you so very much for taking the time to answer a few of my questions. If you want to follow Kensie’s antics, see the links below. I will see you next week, same Gracie, same Gracie channel ❤

Facebook: Kensie Vicious

Instagram: @KensieVicious

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This Is Not A Drill

Last night my fire alarm went off. Not in the, “I was busy over baking chicken fingers” kinda way, more of a “The Toronto fire services have discovered a fire on level P3” fashion. So, Hubby, forced me out from under my sewing machine and into the cold dark night, with dog baby in tow. (We left the Puss, cuz I think she’d prefer to stay and roast than have to deal with society…I know how she feels) So, we took to the stairs with our neighbours, who are also strangers. I hrumphed the whole time, wearing two sets of gloves. We stood outside watching the firemen, who know it’s a faulty alarm in a new building, mill around, until someone turns off the alarm. I was day dreaming about how beautiful and dangerous fire is, and what it would look like dancing. When suddenly it dawned on me: I hadn’t grabbed anything. My house is on hypothetical fire and I was more upset to lose the time working on my costume. I seriously didn’t grab anything but my keys. Keys to a house that is potentially on fire. I guess the point of this antidote is that when the mythical fire was burning my condo to the ground, it was all just stuff. And if I’m really honest, I could use the insurance money.

But all was safe and sound. I am blogging from underneath the sewing machine again. And I am on fire.