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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 10-20-2010 at 08:05 PM
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Dressing Rooms / Rehearsal Studio  Post [1] »




D R E S S I N G
R O O M S


Don't share eyeliner.
That's just shnasty.




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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 10-20-2010 at 08:38 PM
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Dressing Rooms / Rehearsal Studio  Post [2] »




R E H E A R S A L
STUDIO


The Rouge performer's torture chamber.





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Old 11-27-2010 at 04:21 PM
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OOC: I had a rather difficult time with this image, so I just uploaded it as an attatchment. Sorry that it couldn't be prettier!

Verity and Myron. BIC:

Verity Ravensdale

Verity sat in front of a dressing room mirror, applying black eyeliner as part of her costume. She found that it was sexy, but certainly not tasteless; after all, this was the Moulin Rouge. And if anyone doubted that she was happy to be there, she would have set them straight. She loved working at the opera house, but where better to let loose than the Rouge?

Myron Bolitar had been very good to give her this job; of course, she knew he hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart. What kind of employer would do that? But, still, Verity would be lying if she said she wasn't thankful. Their chance meeting at the Populaire's Halloween gala had been a blessing. Verity and Myron had clicked in a way, thanks to both of their wit. The interview had gone well, too. She hadn't glided through it without nervousness (as Mr. Bolitar held the keys to something that she was greatly interested in), but in the end, everything had turned out quite splendidly. She had been given a part in the ensemble, knowing that she would have to work her way up. Status doesn't come for free, after all.

Setting down her eyeliner pencil, Verity examined her make-up. It was glamorous, but still had a bit of an edge to it. Finally, she picked up a tube of red lipstick, sliding it along her lips. There. Perfect. Standing up, she took in her full appearance in the mirror, turning to see herself from various angles. She thought she looked rather smashing, but it was really the opinion of her boss that mattered most.
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I had everything, opportunities for eternity, and I could belong to the night.

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Old 12-12-2010 at 09:20 PM
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OOC: Ashton/Mad BIC:

Madeleine de Chandon

Costumes. Sometimes, Madeleine thought that was what she missed most about being a Rouge girl. As a choreographer, she still got to dance. As a gorgeous woman, she still got hungry glances. But if she ran around in a corset and fishnet tights, people assumed she was a hooker and treated her as such. But as a Rouge girl, that kind of costume was empowering. You made money without lowering your standards. People desired you. But it was classy by what was left to the imagination. Classy by the barriers. Being a Rouge girl was sexy and self-reliant. And it was the costume that made it so. In her arms, Madeleine carried a sequined dress she’d worn once upon a time here. It was fresh from the dry-cleaner’s and tailor’s. Now, a little bit modified, it would be passed on to another girl. Think of it as the passing of the Olympic torch. Or something really cool like that. Because that’s how Madeleine saw it. An honor that one of the Rouge’s greatest was handing over a magically empowering garment to a newbie. The red and white fabric shimmered like some Vegas-styled-candy-cane. It was never something you could get away with outside the Rouge, but from the stage, it glittered and caught the eye. The slitted hemline, too, was eye catching. And the neckline dipped just low enough to entice. Granted, that was the first thing she had to have modified. Madeleine was… chesty. This new girl was, from the measurement chart, not nearly as endowed, poor thing.

Ashton Greene, her name was. And Madeleine had—at first—thought that to be a boy’s name. Ashton. Shouldn’t it be Ashley or Ashlynn? No. She double checked the file. And was, admittedly, a little disappointed that Myron hadn’t hired a drag queen. That would have been fun. Nice little crowd pleaser. But… No. Ashton Greene was a girl, British national. Blonde, hazel eyes… Yeah. Madeleine took her file and studied it. Not really a crime, but… Anyways. Ashton was apparently a girl’s name. And, apparently, this girl was doing a holiday-inspired number Madeleine was familiar with. Hell, Madeleine had choreographed it.

This really was a momentous, torch-passing moment. Where on earth were the cameras and journalists?

Reaching the dressing room, Madeleine pushed open the door without knocking.
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Old 12-13-2010 at 02:06 AM
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Ashton Greene

The dressing rooms were roomy, definitely better than previous dressing rooms at various venues she performed at. She took her beige high heels off to get comfortable.

So many costumes from so many shows. She was in fabric heaven. She stripped off her pink dress, pulling off the hanger a rather fun number all eqipped with hooks and fishnets. It looked like fun. She put it on.

Three or four costumes later, the dressing room was a mess. Corsets and pointe boots lay higgeldy-piggledy across the carpeted floor. Quickly, in her bra and matching underwear, she scrambled to put everything where it belonged. The sound of footsteps sped up this process.

Finally, just as the last hnager was placed, the door opened to reveal a woman carrying a costume. Ashton wasn't embarrassed. She had spend and dedicated her life to performance. Seeing women and women seeing you undress was a way of life. Ashton simply stood up straighter. "Oh! Hello! Are you Miss de Chandon?"

She looked to the costume in her hands. Her hazel eyes lit up with excitement. "What's that?"


If I can't hear the music, and the audience is gone,

I'll dance here on my own.


Banners by Rose, my sister, and me.
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Old 12-13-2010 at 02:43 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Once upon a time, the dressing rooms had been Madeleine’s home base. She’d had one of those vanity mirrors, decked out with business cards and photographs and post-it notes. She’d spent ages gazing at her reflection and dolling her face up for the night. But now, Madeleine ruled the Rouge. Or, at least, ruled it to an extent. It was still Myron’s kingdom, but she was as close to a queen as he was gonna get.

Well, that was if they were still an item. And right now, it was hard to say what their deal was.

But! That didn’t change the fact that the Rouge girls scuttled about to please their boss aka Madeleine. Madeleine had to answer to Myron, yeah, but the performers had to answer to her. It was a fun little food chain, for the most part. Complexities with Myron aside—and since this was about passing her performance torch, not her love life, Myron was so-totally aside—it was fun.

She smiled at the half-dressed blonde in front of her. She could see why this girl was hired. She wasn’t a curvaceous bombshell, but she had rock-it potential. She could tell. Some of the newbies blushed and flipped out the first time Madeleine shot an appraising glance their ways. She wasn’t coming onto the blonde in front of her, but Madeleine let her gaze linger over the sweet-spots: the indent where hip met waist, the curve of the girl’s chest. Her pink mouth. Oh, yeah. She could be a Rouge girl. Madeleine approved. And in Madeleineland, that was enough.

"Oh! Hello! Are you Miss de Chandon?"

Miss. Once, she’d loved the sound of that word. Made her sound really young. But the thing was, after a proposal-fail and half-break-up with Myron… “Miss” just reminded Madeleine that Myron had liked it enough to put a ring on it… And she’d screwed him over. Still, she faked a smile and nodded. No need to be all Debbie Downer on a new recruit. Especially as Ashton’s hazel eyes lit up and fell on the costume.

"What's that?"

“A little Christmas present from me to one Miss Ashton Greene,” Madeleine said with a grin. She extended the dress to her. “I wore it for my first holiday-show here. Figured it might bring you some luck.”

Okay, so that was almost total BS. Yes, it had been Madeleine’s costume. But she wasn’t giving it to the girl our of the goodness of her heart per se so much as a need to clear out the costume closet and repurpose stuff. Yay, world-wide recession!

Madeleine launched herself on top of one of the vanity tables to sit.

“Go ahead. Try it on. And while you’re at it, tell me about yourself.”

Other goal? Be super friendly to the Rouge Girls so they all loved her. If they all loved her, Myron couldn’t fire her for personal reasons. He would have to keep her. Machiavelli had nothing on Madeleine de Chandon as far as interpersonal politics went.
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Old 12-13-2010 at 03:51 AM
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Ashton Greene

“A little Christmas present from me to one Miss Ashton Greene. I wore it for my first holiday-show here. Figured it might bring you some luck.”


Almost hesitantly, Ashton accepted the dress. Ashton hadn’t had a mother for seven years. But if she had, she supposed it would be her mother standing there, giving her an heirloom and not Madeleine de Chandon. But Ashton was grateful for the dress, feeling flattered and even honoured to have it passed to her. In all honesty, it was probably just the only costume that fit her, and Miss de Chandon felt like making it a bigger deal than it really was. She was wearing used costume. There was nothing really special about that.
But for the sake of feeling welcome, Ashton accepted it as a familial gesture, a greeting card with sequins.

“Go ahead. Try it on. And while you’re at it, tell me about yourself.” Madeleine said from the vanity counters.

Excitedly, Ashton assembled herself in it. “Well, what do you want to know other than what’s on my resume? That should tell you quite a bit about what kind of performer you’re getting. But tell me about yourself. I need to know what kind of an employer I’m getting,” she said with a smile. “Can you do me up in the back?” Ashton approached the vanity Madeleine perched herself upon. “You said this costume belonged to you, right? So that means you worked here. Which means you obviously know what it’s like. Could you maybe tell me about it? Just looking around, I bet Nicole Kidman didn’t do this place justice.”


If I can't hear the music, and the audience is gone,

I'll dance here on my own.


Banners by Rose, my sister, and me.
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Old 12-13-2010 at 09:04 PM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine was surprisingly good at this letting-go thing. At least, where the costume was concerned. As Ashton clambered into it, Madeleine didn’t for even a second get all weepy or nostalgic. Instead, she batted away memories of her in that dress. Y’know, that one memory of Myron and her making out backstage while she was wearing that sexy little number and Madeleine almost missing her cue…

Not nostalgic what-so-ever. Uh-huh. If that was true, Madeleine wouldn’t have had to focus so intently on her ornament-red nails. When she looked up, Ashton was already slipped into the dress.

“Well, what do you want to know other than what’s on my resume? That should tell you quite a bit about what kind of performer you’re getting. But tell me about yourself. I need to know what kind of an employer I’m getting,” the British blonde said.

That would be Myron, not Mad. Though they had once been practically inseparable, they were apart now. Madeleine hoped it wasn’t forever, but she couldn’t be sure. She looked back at her nails. Tell her about herself? Or about Myron? Or about MadeleineandMyron?

“Can you do me up in the back?” Ashton came to her, exposing her pale back and sweeping blonde curls to the side so Madeleine could reach for the zipper.

“You said this costume belonged to you, right? So that means you worked here. Which means you obviously know what it’s like. Could you maybe tell me about it? Just looking around, I bet Nicole Kidman didn’t do this place justice.”

Madeleine smiled a little. This girl was a real chatterbox. Full of questions. Thank God. It meant Madeleine didn’t have to clarify about the whole boss thing. It meant Madeleine could smile and think of the old days when she was setting the stage on fire with her dancing feet.

“Nicole Kidman couldn’t hold a candle to me,” Madeleine said proudly, pulling the zipper up. “This place is more than just a girlie-show. Dancers, singers, musicians… It’s an artistic Mecca.”

So, God or Muhammad or whoever was in charge of Mecca would probably zap Madeleine with a thunderbolt for daring to compare a holy city with the Moulin Rouge, but basically, for Madeleine, the Rouge was as holy as it got. She was in awe of this ancient building. Dancing was, for her, a religious experience. And the Rouge drew in pilgrims on their own personal journeys. Artists from around the world came to see the beautiful, red windmill. And Madeleine was one of their icons—made for worship and adoration.

Okay. Enough of the spirituality metaphors. Madeleine spun Ashton around.

“Let’s see how that dress looks,” she said with a grin. The grin widened appreciatively. “Beautiful.”
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Old 12-15-2010 at 04:52 AM
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Ashton Greene

“Nicole Kidman couldn’t hold a candle to me,”
Madeleine said, pride emanating from every pore on her face. Ashton smiled. Someone’s proud.

“This place is more than just a girlie-show. Dancers, singers, musicians… It’s an artistic Mecca.”

Huh. Ashton had never heard that one before. She didn’t know much about the Middle East (other than they had oil and camels and that her sister took a weekend there with her husband), but she knew Mecca was a Holy Site, and not a place for scantily clad women with chairs and show tunes. She smiled, acting as if she understood completely. Maybe one day, after working here for a while, Ashton would know what she meant, and would feel the same maternal, ever-glowing pride of calling herself a Rouge Girl. For now, she was just here to pay the rent.

Suddenly, the wall Ashton was staring at moved to the left and became a close up of Madeleine’s face as the older woman spun her around.

“Let’s see how that dress looks.”

Ashton stood, her arms outstretched slightly, palms up. “What do you think?”

Madeleine nodded with a grin. ”Beautiful.”

Ashton smiled, her heart rate lowering, back to normal pace as she turned to look in the mirror.

She checked her front. She checked her back. She checked each side and did a few spins in the frame of the mirror. “Yep!” she said, putting her hands on her hips, feeling the shape of her figure. “I am one sexy lady. I think I’m ready to perform tonight!”

Although she said the words with confidence, she couldn’t help but to get an image of Damien standing behind her in the mirror, indifferent, shrugging, saying ”I’ve seen better.” She saw her father behind him saying, ”Your mother could have pulled that off better.” She saw Natalie behind him, the look on her face reading that Ashton wasn’t worthy of her son, and wasn’t worthy of this outfit. Behind her was Lucian, saying nothing, his face devoid of emotion, save for the ghost of a trace of a smile at the corner of his lips. Ashton understood. Everyone was better.

Ashton forced her frown back.

“I’m really excited to start.” She said, her voice not as enthusiastic, but still, perky enough to uphold a mask of feigned confidence.


If I can't hear the music, and the audience is gone,

I'll dance here on my own.


Banners by Rose, my sister, and me.
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Old 12-15-2010 at 05:12 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Ashton seemed to be chewing on the compliment.

Jesus, girl, Madeleine thought, eyes flicking ceiling-ward for a moment. Take the compliment already. I know what I’m talking about… I do this for a living.

Besides, Madeleine didn’t give undeserved compliments unless they were gonna get her somewhere. And, frankly, there was nothing Ashton Greene could give her that she didn’t have. Unless Ashton could persuade Myron to reconsider Madeleine as wife-potential, and somehow… That seemed highly unlikely. So, yeah. The “beautiful” compliment? Total honesty. Now, if Ashton started giving Madeleine a run for her bombshell money… That’s when lying would factor in. Lying and insults. But, psh. That wasn’t happening right now.

“Yep!” Ashton said, feeling herself up. “I am one sexy lady. I think I’m ready to perform tonight!”

Madeleine let out a throaty chuckle, although in her brain, she distinctly heard Myron’s ‘hold the phone’ catch-phrase. Sexy? Madeleine wasn’t about to get on that. The confidence Ashton was showing in the last five seconds was probably the sexiest thing Madeleine had seen from her, but overall? Beautiful. Pretty. If Ashton was “sexy”, too, Madeleine might have to get jealous.

Eh… Different strokes for different folks. She’ll probably get a few audience members off tonight.

“I’m really excited to start,” Ashton said, with a little less punch.

“You’d better be,” Madeleine said with a swift nod. “Most gals would kill to have your ‘Santa Baby’ solo.”
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