Kathleen - Fleen - Topaz - Miss Mew

 

A couple of pleasant women are presently embarking on making a documentary on the exotic dancer scene in Vancouver in the late, 70s, in the 80s and until now.

In those times I photographed many if not most of these ecdysiasts. This endeavour coincided with me doing the same with the Vancouver punk bands.

It was one afternoon in the early 80s that I was walking to the Carnegie Centre on Main and Hastings after having had a few soda waters at the Number 5 Orange. Those of us who frequented it simply called it The Five. On my walk I noticed a dancer I had seen minutes before. She went by the name of Topaz. Those who knew her called her Fleen and her real name was Kathleen. 

I asked her where she was going. She was going like me to listen to the punk band D.O.A. From that moment we became friends until she died on November the 17, 2021.

The two documentary women have already interviewed me with a tape recorder. They are returning today Tuesday to film me. For this occasion I decided to get a haircut and I did on Monday at noon.

In my new interview I will further explain how I felt all those dancers had style, grace and intelligence. In this age of 21^st century red-carpet pornography, I can only assert that these women had style. That style is gone.

I called Kathleen Miss Mew because she reminded me of a cat. She had this flawless complexion that looked like Devon Cream. She came a few times to our Railway Club lunch gatherings and I was shocked to find out her face was all freckles! She used good makeup.

The main reason for writing this blog is something that happened between us. In those late 80s I did a gallery show of dancers that I called Homebodies. The procedure was that I would ring the bell and be allowed in. I would be offered coffee and I would look around before I photographed them nude in their home. It was not supposed to be erotic. They were full-length portraits of nude women doing household chores.

When I was just about to finish the project, Miss Mew called me and said, “Alex I want to be in your Homebodies. The fact that I live in that fleabag hotel, The Niagara does not mean that it is not my home. It is." At the time she may have been taking drugs and or drinking. I showed up at her hotel room and my heart was broken when she posed right next to a little display that she had of flowers, high heel shoes and an apple.

I hope nobody will become offended by placing that photograph here. The third one is of her dancing. She always made eye-contact and she liked to dance to Lou Reed.