Saturday, 15 September 2012

Boheme Sauvage Review

A bunch of us gals put on our glad rags & made whoopee at that shindig known as Boheme Sauvage. For one night, the Green Room in Rosa-Luxembourg Platz was the loudest drum in town. Girls outnumbered the guys in our group by about 4 to 1; after all, we're modern, independent birds. Who wants to get stuck with some Sheik who'll put a handcuff on her ring finger?

Our almost all-gal gang included Lola, the heiress to a Tenessee whisky empire. She's on the lam in Berlin while her Dapper works out some misunderstandings with the Mrs. Grundies at U.S. Internal Affairs, something about prohibition thwarting capers. Her daddy-o swears he had no idea those hoods were running moonshine out of his distillery; claims they're just trying to put him in the frame. Lola's been sent on an 'extended vacation' in Europe because she can't afford to have her name dragged through the mud in connection to yet another scandal (not so soon after the Cantloupe incident, anyway). She was simply spifflicated from her reunion with the Hooch and could really cut loose without those muckrakers at the Daily Mirror following her every move.

Then there was Anastasia, the budding artiste who is becoming a fixture in the smoky cabarets of Nollendorfplatz. She whiled her night away by cutting a rug with one drugstore cowboy after another. That Sheba really has It. Rising starlet Lulu vamped it up with me in silent-movie style, sipping complementary Absinthe by the Blackjack tables. We were a bit silly with giggle water by the time we tried to join the struggle on the dance floor. Of course, we all had to thank Elvira, the savvy sappho of slap who dolled us all up like real dames for the hop. Here she is getting the glad rags ready... attagirl!

We all had a ball at Boheme Sauvage and can't wait for the next one!

Need help with the lingo? Check out this nifty Earthlink
guide to Jazz Age slang.

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