“We’re weird enough and lucky enough to be open about our bodies and sexuality. I’m not saying we’re perfect, but it’s better to be queer here than in many places,” says Margrét Dórothea Jónsdóttir, explaining why the alternative art scene is thriving in Reykjavík. Balancing her office job with a passion for burlesque, Margrét — known on stage as Margo — performs either solo or with her troupe, Dömur og herra (Ladies and a Gentleman).
Margrét Dórothea Jónsdóttir, 34, sales agent
I’ve worked in sales pretty much my entire career. Currently, I work in the sales department for Keahotels — just a plain office job. But my side hustle is burlesque and cabaret.
Seven years ago, I went to a burlesque class in Kramhúsið. There was a group of us that met in that class, most of us didn’t know each other before then. We took another class and then another; eventually we put on a show because it just clicked and was really fun. That group became my burlesque troupe, Ladies and a Gentleman. We’ve been putting on shows semi-regularly since. It sort of just happened.
As a millennial woman, this is one of my ways of trying to not hate my body. I like weird and alternative performances, like drag and burlesque, and I’m into the heavy metal scene here as well. It made more sense than, I don’t know, karaoke.
Post-Covid groove and glitter
We used to do monthly shows with my troupe. We’d meet at Kramhúsið once a week to workshop shows or discuss things, especially when we were starting out and feeling nervous. Then Covid ruined everything. My troupe hasn’t really gotten in the groove again since then.
Now, I try to join Kjallarakabarett at the National Theatre. They do weekly shows from November through February. When I can, I try to join once or twice a month, either as a performer or helping in stage management.
I’m not making [enough] money off it so I can’t skip any hours at work. I do have friends who make enough to cut down on work or turn it into their entire job. But it’s pretty tricky to do that here. There aren’t that many venues and the market isn’t huge. I think it works for them because they’re way better hustlers than I am.
When I did it more, I used to put more money back into buying costumes. At one point, our troupe saved up and travelled to New York together. We saw a burlesque show there and took a class. Now, it’s more about having a bit of extra money for fun things — maybe to go see another show.
Embracing the quirky
The idea behind the name of the troupe is very simple — when we started this class, there were several ladies and only one gentleman. He has remained our token gentleman, even though he’s a drag queen, so he’s usually not dressed as a gentleman.
Our continuous shows have been Halloween and Christmas shows. We’ve also usually done one around Valentine’s Day and Þorri. We try to do them a little bit themed around those holidays, but often they’re very loosely themed. Sometimes I just want to do something silly. Does it make sense in the theme? No, but we’ll make it work.
I’m more into neo-burlesque. I’m not huge on taking my clothes off, I prefer to do something a little more weird. I had one act based on the weird selection of advertisements we all get at Christmas time — everything you should eat and drink: more candy and more heavy cream. But also, you need to fit into that perfect dress and look amazing. Then in January, you should be ashamed of how fat you are. In this act, I just put on a lot of compression clothing — more and more until I try to fit into the dress and then I pass out. But I also have a very classic show with a feather fan dance.
Playground for adults
A lot of people don’t know what burlesque is. If you say the word, most people will think — Dita Von Teese. Just that very classical beauty — white, cis, able-bodied beauty standards. Some people just think of a strip club. I know burlesque performers who are also strippers. It’s a different type of performance, but they are very closely related and cannot be fully separated.
Burlesque is such a playground for grownups. You could do pretty much anything — you can be super sexy, sultry, smooth and classic, and just control people with the palm of your hand. Or you can walk on stage and just do something weird. My friend had an act where she dressed up in a dress made of fish heads. It was terrible backstage because they were actual dried fish heads and it smelled disgusting. But people loved it. Then our other friend came on and did a very classical, beautiful seduction and both sort of worked in the same show. People think it’s a lot more about being sexy and stripping, but it is an alternative type of theatre — often very political or very silly.
Behind the curtain
My favourite moments have been just how this sort of integrated into my normal life. In summer of 2018, I was getting married and my good friend, Margrét Maack — who is sort of our burlesque mother in Reykjavík — was the host of the evening. She invited a performer from New York who was here for a show to join my wedding. All of a sudden, there were acrobats at our wedding! My family was like, “Why are there people in a Batman and Robin costume doing acrobatics? This is weird.” But it was wonderful.
My mother was the one who gave me the gift certificate for the burlesque class. She’s an actress and supports doing weird things. I didn’t think she would love me stripping on stage, but she gets what I’m doing, I think. My husband has been super supportive, too. He likes to help me with the music and backing tracks. If I need stuff for costumes or something, he is always there for that. In the past, my colleagues have been like, “I don’t get it, but it’s apparently fun for you, so yay.” But currently, in my new job, the girl who sits next to me is a drag queen. We trade stories about shows.
Big dreams
My dream is to open a performance space or a club, where I and everyone I love in the scene could perform. Reykjavík is lacking performance spaces like that — venues for burlesque, drag and alternative art. Accessibility is a really difficult thing here for some reason. Anytime I’ve thought, “Oh, could I open up a place here?,” the place wasn’t big enough, or had too low ceilings, or wasn’t accessible. Finding a place with those three things is really tough. But that would be the dream.
This autumn, I’m going to college to study creative arts management; hopefully that gives me more of a sense of how I could do this sensibly.
Follow Margo’s troupe on Instagram to stay updated on upcoming gigs: @domurogherra
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