style council: Wham Bam Thank You, Ma'am!

Yeah, it's strange, but the inspired pairing of Mexican wrestling with burlesque definitely gives the audience more bang for the buck. Produced by the Velvet Hammer's Rita D'Albert (aka Ursulina, pictured here with Karis, the most beautiful hula hooping boy in the world), Lucha Va Voom has become an L.A. institution, selling out two shows this week. Of course, you couldn't ask for a better venue than the Mayan theater, with its kitschy "stone" carvings, sacrificial altar alcoves, and Thunderdome-esque balconies where a general admission ticket gets you a seat on a hard cement step. Thankfully, after considerable finagling, my friend and I finally got ringside, where I could get some decent pictures with my crappy Konica. In the audience, having a rip roaring good time, were none other than L.A. Times fashion critic Booth Moore, and Rose Apodaca from WWD, which just goes to show how fashionable an event Lucha Va Voom is. The other "big" sighting of the night was the members of the Moody Blues, who arrived by limo. As I was making my way to my seat behind them, I read aloud a sign taped to a chair that said "The Moody Blues," and one of the guys shushed me, as if the crowd was going to bum rush those grizzly geezers. "Nights in White Satin" was a hit when?
Adding to the divine weirdness was the show's Halloween theme. The first burlesque act was the always amazing Kitten de Ville, who came out of a coffin with her siamese sister Ming Dynatease. I believe they were hacked apart by Frankenstein. Hot stuff. There was also a crazed pogo-sticker, Count Hopula, who stripped, while pogoing, down to a teeny rhinestone g-string, after landing on his head and then getting back on the stick.
The Lucha Libre itself was utter mayhem. Scripted, but still insane. The guy in the chinos is the Human Tornado, here facing off against Pollo Loco. At one point, Tornado went sailing out of the ring, across several rows of audience members and landed with a loud crash while the spectators scrambled to get the hell out of the way. He may have planned it, but it still had to hurt. Ultimately he was declared the winner of his match, but the scoring remains a complete mystery to me.
Here's Summer Peaches, as a bull who has slain her toreador. The rose is purely accidental. Nice touch, eh?