Moulin Rouge || Paris, France

In light of recent news (as of this posting) it felt fitting to write about the very famous Moulin Rouge in Paris, France. Most American Gen X’ers and Millennials are acutely aware of the film that dominated our lives in 2001. I, Dior, was a teenage WASPy kid with conflicting feelings between being mesmerized and sexually awe struck by the beauty and confidence of the performers and the shame around being interested in a movie about “prostitution and strippers”. Upon a 2024 rewatch, the male filmmakers were equally as confused about how to portray a confident, consenting sex worker and instead proceeded to demean and monogomize (my word) her to ease everyone’s comfort around female sexuality.

But, I digress.

This article is not about the discourse around the film, but instead a personal account of the infamous Moulin Rouge spectacular spectacular (okay, last reference the movie, I promise). Prominently situated in the Parisienne neighborhood of Pigalle, just southwest of Montmartre (my absolute favorite neighborhood of Paris, if this was a vanilla travel blog I’d write an entire series on the art and culture of Montmartre. But since this is a sexy adventure blog I’ll just casually drop that I slept with two different men ((of different nationalities)) in Montmartre within two days and was propositioned by another to accompany him to his villa in the country for the weekend -of which I declined because I was having too much fun in Paris. Montmartre is magical). Pigalle is a notorious neighborhood of Paris famous for its boulevard of sex shops, adult shows, brothels, and, you guessed it, Moulin Rouge. Even today, Pigalle has a very bohemian, 1920s artist-down-on-their-luck vibe that’s poetic, sultry, and inimitable. We stayed at the Le Pigalle hotel, which is very boutique with an interior design that commemorates the diverse sex workers and musicians who imbued life into this area. I’d highly recommend the hotel if you love character, small but inviting spaces, an in-room record player with dozens of bespoke vinyls at your disposal, and a clawfoot tub in the middle of the room. 

Bien allons-y, Le Moulin Rouge… We were outlining our two week long trip from Paris to Barcelona and mentioned to lifestyle friends that we were planning to go to a show at Moulin Rouge. They immediately groaned and said how it was the biggest waste of money and not worth it. We contemplated their advice, but decided to go anyway because it felt like one of those things that you just need to do regardless of the outcome. Long story short, they were right but I absolutely do not regret going. It’s campy, it’s cringeworthy, and I absolutely am happy to say that I saw it and won’t have a “but what if?” regret in life.

Jetlagged and contending with the hottest summer on record, we dolled ourselves up the night of the performance. Me in a very tight and very very short little black dress and sexy lace choker. Dax in a sexy fitted button-down and slacks. When we arrived it was very glitzy like any big theater show. The literal red windmill (le moulin rouge) was commanding, inviting, and honestly sexy atop the building. There were notices everywhere that filming was strictly forbidden and you would be ejected from the show without a refund if caught. And boy was that no joke. We bought our tickets weeks in advance and when we arrived we were escorted to our seats. It was a fairly large but in-cred-i-bly packed theatre with rows of tables and chairs. We went pre-covid, so the amount of people they squish in there may be different these days, but at the time we had 6 people at our table and you were literally touching elbows and thighs with the people next to and across from you. We got a bottle of champagne for the two of us and I remember having t-rex arms as I maneuvered to grasp my glass and sip throughout the night. 

Quick story about security and the threat of ejection. They have ushers/security literally in every corner of the theater. We, very unfortunately, had a woman seated at our table who had zero regard for anyone else in the theater. As soon as the lights went down she pulled out her phone and started filming with her hand straight out in front of her with the phone light in our faces. People behind us were more assertive than I was at the time and hush-yelled at her to put her phone away to which she clearly heard and ignored. Then an usher came over and very sternly told her to put her phone away, to which she half-did until he turned and she took it right back out. The whole charade happened again, more people are hush-yelling at her about how rude she’s being, she would shimmy her shoulders and ignore them. Finally, the usher in no uncertain terms told her that next time she’s being kicked out and he wasn’t joking. Fortunately, that was the last we saw of her phone. Unfortunately, then she proceeded to complain in not-hushed-yelling to her husband about how rude everyone was to her, for the remainder of the show.

All that being said, though our experience was clearly distracting, we still saw all of the performances. The songs and sets felt incredibly dated to the 80s and 90s. Lots of pastels, flowing lyrical dresses, white columns for pillars, and everything (costumes and sets) looked faded and weathered. I think if I have one serious complaint, I just wish that the dance numbers and sets were updated. Aside from that, the dancers were incredibly talented. There were a few very French numbers with bold reds, blues, and white and the legendary Cancan with the crinoline skirts held high above their heads, laced up Belle Epoque boots stomping on the floor, and layered lace panties for all the theater to enjoy. Also, I’d be remiss to forget to mention the dancers who would jump in the air and land into splits which was jaw dropping (YouTube it!).

To top off all the frivolity and campiness, there were many numbers where several of the dancers were topless, which I honestly didn’t realize was part of Moulin Rouge until that moment. Many of the numbers would have all the dancers in full costumes and then some would remove their tops mid-number. Others had full costumed dancers and then topless ones would appear or walk out from the curtains. It was quite an unexpected treat to see so many topless professional dancers on stage in front of a fully vanilla-seeming audience. This may just be the American in me, and even though I know the Moulin Rouge was originally a cabaret performance by courtesans, I didn’t expect in 2019 with a very generic audience that they would have live topless dancers on stage. It definitely added a very French, spicey, coquettishness to the evening. 

Would I pay to experience this again, no. Do I regret going, also emphatically no. Although the music may be dated, the sets weathered, and the seating uncomfortable-as-fuck, it’s a great story to tell and I love that I can say that I have seen the infamous and legendary Moulin Rouge in Paris, including all of the dancers’ nipples.