Image courtesy of The Daily Mail. Well, in some ways it is. Although, after doing some research, I did discover that the original Moulin Rouge around the year when the film takes place did have a boxed-in garden with a small, wooden stage and — you guessed it — a life-size hollow elephant that served as an opium den and Arabic nightclub where the filthy rich threw money at belly dancers. Classy stuff. The dress code was surprisingly lax considering our tickets explicitly stated that shabby patrons who turned up in flip-flops or shorts would not be allowed entrance.
Some other rules we were warned about included: no smoking, keep your cellphones on silent and minors under the age of six must be accompanied by an adult. I even glimpsed one lucky little boy oogling the dancers in the V. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll grow up to have a healthy sex life.
The security was so tight that my friends and I had to go through at least four different ticket checkpoints as well as a pat-down before finally crossing the threshold. Inside the Moulin Rouge is, admittedly, rather cramped but still bursting with luxury. On our way in we passed a gift shop selling jewelry, feather headdress and cutlery among other things. A flight of stairs then opened up to the ground floor facing the stage and a balcony over top where my friends and I were guided to sit.
A mess of spindly-legged tables with white tablecloths were sprawled across every inch of the place, leaving the wait staff very little room to deliver buckets of champagne and wine glasses to guests no cocktails. The claustrophobic crowd buzzed with anticipation and a sea of winking lamps crowned every table to help set the sultry mood.
I blinked twice and a flock of radiant, sequined dancers appeared, charging in from all directions in tight formations. Pristinely packaged with manicured movements, they tossed their curls and wore tropical smiles in between bursts of red, orange, pink and purple lipstick. I noticed a fair range of body types too: slender and willowy, curvy and toned — no unhealthy greyhound ribs in sight.
