Concert Review: Sex Workers' Art Show at Victoria Theatre; "Anal Beads Made of Money"

Annie Oakley, founder of the Sex Workers’ Art Show, introduced Sunday evening at the Victoria Theatre by welcoming all the “sex nerds,” which was a good way of letting me know what this SF stop of the two-month tour of sexy entertainment would entail.

See, nerds are a delightfully passionate bunch -- the kind of people who give a damn about who shot first between Greedo and Han. So as I sat in my chair not knowing what the night would offer, I was assured of one thing: these performers are really going to be into it. No nerd is just a halfway Star Wars fan--you’re either full-tilt or not. In this case however, Star Wars was replaced with butt cheeks that can hold things. To some people, that’s just as cool as lightsabers.

Indeed it was a night for sex nerds, as every performance involved some sort of nudity or kinkiness. But the sex was accompanied by another theme -- work. The performers successfully took some of the glamour out of their trade by pointing out that it’s just another way to make that dollar dollar bill, y’all.

The first performer, Dirty Martini, summed it up with the first act. Her dance routine set to the patriotic tune of “Proud to Be an American” featured her in a star-spangled dress as she stripped down only to have money symbolically pour out her underwear. The piece de resistance came when she revealed her (surprise) butt cheeks with money hanging out, as she tugged along a magnificently long string of anal beads made of money. We’re all whores for the paper.

More performances dealt with the theme of work in effective fashion.

Porn performer Lorelei Lee read a piece of “fiction” she wrote, detailing the life of a porn star dealing with sleazy men at convention booth signings and staving off a staph infection near her labia. The World Famous *BOB*’s autobiographical recount bordered on stand-up, describing her first job as an exotic dancer: “We would sit on benches like chickens hanging under heat lamps in Chinatown.” Dominatrix Keva I. Lee’s portrayal of her job revealed the nature of customer service as an Asian sex worker. In her native tongue, she yelled phrases that are sure to sound kinky to American men, but in reality are grocery reminders and wishes of a happy new year.

Other acts that followed took on more of an artistic aspect. Kirk Read came off as a gay Demetri Martin, sharing an amusing outdoor experience with nature and some ecstasy tabs while another man played harmonicas, banjos, and recorders for ambience. This would be outdone with the final act, Krylon Superstar. In what could be considered on par with Luke blowing up the Death Star, Superstar took the stage looking like a svelte redhead, with an American Psycho knife in one hand and a bouquet of roses clenched by the sheer might of Superstar’s (what else) butt cheeks. After throwing out each rose to the sea of nerds, Superstar showed off more muscle strength by clinching the knife-handle, and then ripped off a patch of tape to reveal one serious tuck job. Krylon’s a man, baby!

The night turned out to be solidly entertaining to most, mainly the sex nerds. I admit I almost felt like a varsity starting quarterback trying to watch Battlestar Galactica at times, but being the traditional nerd I am, I did my best to relate. As the audience made its way out, an old man picked up one of Superstar’s roses and put it to his nose in a reverent manner.

Instead of being disgusted, I realized that rose was his version of a Blade Runner gun replica. It was his copy of the Watchmen Absolute Edition.

Or maybe it was just an assflower. —Oscar Pascual