On Friday in Vegas, I spent all our money in the Bettie Page Store at Caesar's Palace. One of the dresses was a little big but I really wanted it, so I went ahead and bought it. Saturday morning, we had a little time to kill so I drug Mr. Breakdown to the second Bettie Page Store by Planet Hollywood to exchange for the right size.
Photos of the new dresses to come!
However, I spotted this sign throughout the mall as we were leaving. I started squealing. For real. And for a really long time.
If you don't know who Tempest Storm is, Google her. My original derby name was Temper Storm as an homage to this burlesque star. She's a fascinating self-made woman. Of course I wanted to meet her!
It was $20 to get my photo taken with Ms. Storm, but I couldn't pass it up. I wanted to tell her that I thought she was amazing, and that my roller derby name was supposed to be about her. I wanted to ask her for tips on getting into pinup modeling. I wanted to ask her about her supposed affairs with JFK and Elvis.
Instead I babbled and giggled like an idiot, mostly unable to look her in the eye. What a dork I am.
Even at 80+, Tempest Storm is in fantastic physical shape and exceptionally beautiful. I think her biceps are smaller than my wrists. It only took my forearm to get around her waist. If I weren't strangely starstruck, I would have felt like a hippo.
I'm glad I had decided to dress retro/rockabilly/pinup for my last day in Vegas so I could be wearing a cute dress when I met Tempest Storm. She was incredibly sweet and seemed genuinely thankful that my husband and I were there to meet her.
Sadly, no one else showed up in the 45 minutes or so we were there. In Las Vegas of all places, no one else beelined to met a burlesque superstar. At least she made my freakin' week.