Bernell DorroughMany know the childish glee accompanied with visiting the City Museum, the hearty fulfillment of cheese fries and bowling at Tropicana lanes, or the nostalgic anxiety of trying to roller skate or ice skate. For those seeking greater thrills and less physical exertion, though, one place offers a risqu‚ kind of entertainment for an off-campus weekend outing. Boxers ‘n Briefs is not just a strip club. In Boxers ‘n Briefs, you can leave your troubles outside. So, life is disappointing? Forget it. In here, life is beautiful. The men are beautiful. Even the deejay is beautiful. Beyond the sterile entry room, where a larger than average forty-year-old man bids you a happy viewing, lies a room full of men vying to arouse you, or at least arouse some sort of reaction in you. The following events took place on an unspecified night with a small group of Washington University students.
Upon entering the performance room we immediately noticed a dancer performing a special pole dance off to the right, while his member also swayed to the music. After that expected but still spontaneous moment of shock, the realization soon hit that the music the dancer so erotically moved to was none other than that of Femme Fatale (one of the evening’s karaoke entertainers) snapping and clapping to “Mambo Italiano.” The drag queens came out for a special night at B ‘n B to demonstrate their amazing karaoke skills and their self-important flare for fashion otherwise relegated to the dark corners of Wet Seal and Delia’s.
After quickly seating ourselves a safe distance from the stage, the group watched as the night’s host entered the stage. This sparkling beauty, decked out in a one piece jumpsuit, strutted out with a microphone in hand to speak her first great insight of the evening: “Let me tell you, I’m so uncomfortable with this nine inch dick taped back and sticking into my ass.” Such words are rarely spoken when introducing oneself to an audience, but considering the surroundings, the Mistress of Ceremonies, Taylor DeMornee, did so with a certain grace. On stage Mistress DeMornee quipped about the intricacies of her costume and the delightfulness of the male physique, while having as great of a penchant for the word “bitch” as many Wash U students have for “sketchy.”
The attention of the group soon wandered elsewhere to survey the other guests. At the table nearest to the stage, with a vodka tonic and a pack of Marlboro Reds in hand, sat a middle-aged man sporting an orange, ribbed sweater courtesy of the Gap. He would have appeared to be an average man, save for his somewhat disturbing lazy eyes, $1 bills in hefty supply, and a fondness for a bald B ‘n B employee in hot pants with a likeness very similar to Gollum. Behind the sitting area near the bar strutted Dancers #2 and #3. During the course of the evening Dancer #3 managed to slither side to side while hanging from a horizontal pole like an asp waiting to attack its prey.
After a few more minutes of indiscernible banter, Mistress DeMornee hailed the next act in a roll of thunder as Cleopatra Rain stormed the stage. When it rains, it pours. When Cleopatra Rain (breaking the first rule of open-toed shoes by wearing them with nylons) danced, the crowd tumbled to the ground in utter amazement. Despite her fashion faux pas, the Queen of the Nile reaped the benefits of a flood of $1 bills, many coming from a current day carbon copy of Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Violet dressed in costume as an innocent angel with a tin pail of which no one could quite understand the purpose. The night was full of other interesting people competing in the costume contest: a Warlock no more evil than a professor at Hogwarts, a vampiress with what can safely be assumed as actual blood streaming down her chin, and an employee (who had the night off and no better place to go) dressed as white trash with a mullet wig.
The next performer, one Alana DeMornee, broke out on the stage with great zest and decisively one of the worst prom dresses ever made. But from the perspective of someone who overindulges in Bear Mart M&Ms on a nearly daily basis, I must say that slip of periwinkle and rhinestone was quite becoming on Alana. Of all the queens that night, Alana shined the brightest, owing both to her choice of apparel and her intensity put forth in mouthing the words to remarkable song stylings of Mariah Carey. After a few more rounds from each performer, the night wound to an end. Mistress DeMornee ended a splendid evening by passing out as many free passes to the club as possible, varying between one and six months based on how much she liked you as an audience member.
Once the group had collected enough passes, we left the world of cigarette fog and men in briefs for the sterile entryway with the forty-year-old host. Perhaps the most shocking event of the night occurred when we had the great privilege of seeing the performers, refreshingly exhausted, as they pulled off their wigs and flipped off their heels to reveal their everyday appearance. They bid their customary farewells to the other workers with indifference, for they would not be gone from B ‘n B for very long, and our group embarked on its return to campus. Boxers ‘N Briefs proved to be everything I hoped it to be: the pole dancing, the bitching of Mistress DeMornee, the somewhat disturbing fellow audience members, the angel with the mysterious tin pail, and all the others who ventured to B ‘n B that night. I only have one valid complaint about my experience in that I saw many men in briefs that night, but the boxers were nowhere to be seen. Although Boxers ‘N Briefs lives up to its reputation, it certainly does not live up to its name. To see Mistress DeMornee in action, see her every Sunday night for her variety show starting at 10:30 p.m. Otherwise, go on any other night of the week to experience the entertainment, the trauma, and absolute lack of eroticism that is Boxers ‘n Briefs.
Boxers ‘N Briefs open every day of the week except for Monday and is located in East St. Louis at 55 Four Corners Lane at Routes 13 & 157. For more information, visit the website at boxersnbriefs.com.