My Life in Paris: Because She Cancan

By now I know the drill. After presenting my press credentials, the security bouncers spin me down the Moulin Rouge’s red-carpeted ramp. At the bottom, I spot my guide and PR maven, Aurélia. I’m on a mission.

Anticipating the New Year, I’ve decided to make the leap all Daedalus-like, not only raising some spirits on my favourite stage, but also swooping through its in-house feather studio, nestled up in the attic. Since 1929, the Maison Février has been crafting tails and headdresses for all the dance hall movers and shakers in the city. According to Aurélia, the Moulin Rouge has its own costume atelier because, “Cock feathers hate the rain, especially the pink ones!”. It’s better to keep everything under one roof.

Photography is strictly forbidden here, especially backstage where the props are kept. “No self-portraits, please,” she tells me. I promise. How could I not? Then, suddenly, I hear the rumble of prancing feet down the spiral staircase. I’m thunderstruck as the entire dance troupe makes its way to rehearsal in layers of frothy petticoats. My own posture immediately straightens as my attitude makes a snap adjustment, revelling in the beauty of self-adornment and apparel. Under a thousand pink feather boas, I can’t help but press a reality pause and linger. Gazing at the dancers as they power push past all those rows of headdresses, I too feel empowered.