Topaz (Miss Mew to me)

In a few days, I will be going to an ecdysiast (look it up) reunion that will probably be the last one. It will be attended by women who were in the industry in the late 70s and early 80s. As far as I can tell I am one of four men who are invited.

Reunion - August 2025 - Little Mary Arnold in centre

I went to the reunion last year and I took a group photograph of all the participants. I was thanked for having rustled up an ailing Little Mary Arnold. She died earlier this year.

When my Rosemary, our two daughters and I arrived in Vancouver from Mexico City in 1975 my desire to become a photographer was delayed. My first real job was at the French and English CBC. It was in the latter where one of the dancers in the massive variety shows was part of Jim Hibbard’s dance group. Her name was Jackie Colman. She was fantastic. From there she started dancing at the Number 5 club and coincidentally Hibbard was the DJ.

Littlle Mary Arnold

I have many memories of my long involvement with these dancers and how, thanks to their patience, I became a good glamour photographer and from there to being a portrait photographern, much in demand in magazines and newspapers.

I feel I owe lots to these women so I will be delighted to attend the reunion. I will be given the chance to talk about some of my funnier involvements with them.

Miss Mew playing at the Commodore with her band Two Lovely Children

But here for some facts that to me are most important. When I used to go to the Number 5 (those of us who knew called it The Five) there was one dancer who was barely five feet tall. She was perfectly proportioned. She was a fave because she often danced to that special tune by the Police called Message in a Bottle. One of the times I photographed Sting, he laughed when I told him the story of Little Mary.

Little Mary liked to drink. Leon Brandolini, the original owner of The 5, had to stock extra bottles of Grand Manier.

A little known story about Little Mary is that she was a superb seamstress. Once she had retired she was hired by one of the best modern dancers of our city. Her name was (she now teaches dance) Cori Caulfield. She was damned in having large breasts. Little Mary designed outfits for her that kept them tight to her body and did not move.

I often went with Little Mary to her fave restaurant, La Bodega on Main.

Gary Taylor's

She came to my house 8 years before she died because she wanted me to take a portrait of her which she was going to use to get a city backing of her sewing business. I was most pleasantly surprised how she hit it off with my wife Rosemary.

I want to write about another dancer that was special in my life who like Little Mary is also gone. Her real name was one I will never find out. It started as Kathleen, it became Fleen and then she dance by the name Topaz and I called her Mis Mew. I photographed her many times. She had the loveliest white complexion. But that was not so. One day she attended one of our Thursday lunches at the Railway Club. She came with no makeup and I was surprised at how many freckles she had. I particularly liked that she dance to Lou Reed songs and always made eye contact with the men around the stage.

Gary Taylor's

She, a fave dancer Tarren, and another Inga, inspired me to experiment. Some of the photographs I cannot replicate as I have long forgotten how I did them.

I will finish here with a sad but happy note. In those 80s I had a gallery show that was called Homebodies. I would ring the bell at dancers’ homes and be invited for coffee. I would then look around and decide how I was going to photograph them in a domestic setting.

One day I received a call from Fleen who told me, “Alex just because I now live in that fleebag Hotel Niagara , it does not mean that I cannot be part of your series." I showed up at her room and she had a lovely arrangement in the window behind her. And this was the first and last time I photographed Fleen with nothing on.