Burlesque for Beginners, Richmond Magazine, July 2026

Bumping, grinding, shimmying, framing: Deana Luchia is making all the right moves for beginners bigger or more exciting I’m 56, heavier than I’d like to be, and And whilst I’m not the only one dressed for comfort, several all the right moves

I’m not sure what to expect when I join a burlesque class in Staines. What little I think I know about burlesque involves nipple tassels, feather boas, nudity and an image of celebrity performer Dita Von Teese dancing seductively in a giant martini glass.

I’m 56, heavier than I’d like to be, and wearing thick black leggings and a large grey T-shirt that covers my bottom. I dance like a teenage boy in a mosh pit and do not possess any sexy moves. I wait in the car park for a while, reminding myself that, as I’m here for work, it doesn’t really matter if everyone in the class is slinking sexily round the room whilst I’m wobbling, red faced in the corner. Does it?

My inner critic quietens down when I meet the teacher, award-winning burlesque performer Miss Petit Pois (real name Shayla Ash). Tiny, kind and uber positive, she reassures me that everyone starts out feeling nervous.

“But by the end they are radiating happy confi dence and a new way of holding themselves. They forge new friendships too. It’s a bonding exercise,” she says.

And as for burlesque being all about sexy moves?

“That’s just one very small part of it,” she tells me. “It’s also about being playful, silly and funny.”

The class I’m joining tonight is week one of a nine-week course for beginners, at the end of which there’s the chance to perform to a live audience. And whilst that’s not something I would ever want to do, those who did the course last time can’t wait to get on stage again.

In fact, five of the 15 women who have signed up are eager returnees. There’s a wide age range – from early 20s to 70s – and a variety of shapes and sizes. And whilst I’m not the only one dressed for comfort, several women are in high heels and one wears a tiny mini skirt. Everyone is welcoming.

Petit Pois, who has a day job as a manager with the Post Office, set up Surrey Burlesque School in February to “bring burlesque to the suburbs”. She begins by asking us to sit in a circle and say why we are here. There’s talk of trauma, low confidence, illness and weight gain, of needing something beyond work and childrearing. But equally, people are here for fun, to do something different and because they’re curious about burlesque.

For our first move we strut around the room as if on a red carpet and make ‘Look at me!’ diva poses, arms raised, hips out. It’s a playful way of asking us to behave as though we believe we’re fabulous. I decide to do this at home next time I’m feeling a bit low.

Next we pretend to drop something, before bending down with bottom out, legs straight, to pick it up. We also practise hip bumping and grinding, shimmying our cleavages and framing. I struggle to shimmy but I enjoy framing, which means drawing attention to a particular body part with the hands, making it appear bigger or more exciting than it is.

At a party later in the week, I tell my friends how to frame a cleavage: position both hands under your boobs, palms up, and wiggle your fi ngers, all whilst smiling knowingly. Petit Pois is a great instructor, adroitly controlling the room, giving clear instructions as well as praise and encouragement. As she teaches us to perform a sequence of moves to music, she reminds us that burlesque is not the same as stripping – even though, to my alarm, we’re dancing to The Stripper, the jazz track by David Rose forever associated with striptease.

“It’s more the illusion of nudity,” says Petit Pois. “You’re really performing for you. It’s ultimately about having confi dence for yourself. A burlesque performer doesn’t owe the audience anything.”

On my way home, I find that – The Stripper shock aside – I’m surprised by how much fun I’ve had and by how kind and supportive everyone was. But most unexpected for me is how – after just one 90-minute session – I can feel myself starting to believe that my body might not, after all, be something to hide, but something to celebrate instead.

■ surreyburlesqueschool.com essentialsurrey.co.uk 

This article originally appeared in the July 2026 issue of Richmond Magazine.