Sex Ed

Annie A-Bomb teaches Philly how to tease.

by Holly Otterbein

jim mundie

Anna Frangiosa, a svelte 33-year-old who is pretty like a classic, doe-eyed '20s film star, was the kid whose parents wouldn't let her watch The Simpsons.

She was relegated to viewing mostly black-and-white films, which, coincidentally, is how she was first seduced by burlesque. "I saw those pretty cabaret girls up on the screen, and I wanted to learn to sing and dance like them," she says.

The rest, of course, is so-much-for-strict-parenting history — she now calls herself Annie A-Bomb, takes off her clothes slowly and carefully for the Red Light Cabaret and Revival Burlesque troupes, and recently opened the Burlesque School of Philadelphia, in the tiny Walking Fish Theatre.

She based the idea for the school on New York's School of Burlesque, but — on the very first day of class, of which there are four each "semester" — it was clear she was a long way from NYC's program. Only three girls showed up, all of whom were petrified of performing in a final, public show, which Frangiosa originally saw as the school's raison d'être.

Still, she was passionate. Frangiosa excitedly showed off her burlesque costumes, passing around peacock feather headdresses, emerald boas, goofy white wigs and bedazzled pasties. The rest of the first class was spent discussing how to sew fringe onto old dresses, what songs to dance to ("Big Spender" is cheesy; your friend's band is better), and if Frangiosa has always been comfortable naked. (She has been, more or less.)

In the second class, students learned 10 different ways to remove their knee-highs, and crafted their own pasties. Frangiosa also tried to impress upon the girls how avant-garde burlesque can be. "If you love Tastykakes, do a show about them," she said. "A girl in a giant Tastykake costume can be sexy and funny while she's taking off her clothes."

When the students finally rehearsed their acts in the third class, it was clear they had absorbed at least one of Frangiosa's lessons: Be comfortable in your own skin. A fortysomething mom from the suburbs smiled big as she stripped down to her pasties, and a former teacher shook like a go-go dancer in her costume made of flower petals. However, on May 5, the last day of the class, the girls didn't perform for anyone but themselves. Though Frangiosa was admittedly disappointed ("I want people to be as excited about burlesque as I am! Hopefully my next class is"), she thinks the students got the point in the long run.

"It's all about knowing how sexy you are. That's why burlesque is such a feminist statement," says Frangiosa. "You're smiling when you're taking your clothes off ... and fulfilling your own fantasy as much as you are the audience's."

(holly.otterbein@citypaper.net)

Burlesque School of Philadelphia | Register now for the next four-week class, starting Tue., May 19, 8 p.m., $80, Walking Fish Theatre, 2509 Frankford Ave., 215-427-9255, walkingfishtheatre.com