Mitzi Fitz (aka Posey Mehta)
A cabaret artist too deliriously hot and too naturally sweaty to handle. She explains what really goes into making a chaotic icon and an unforgettable show.
My day usually starts sandwiched between at least two men, but preferably five; one for each hole, you know? Here’s the thing about being a cabaret performer: it makes you a real hot commodity. People can’t keep their paws off me. I actually have to take a shower when I get home because I have so many grubby little handprints on me after a set. A lot of men with small hands are very interested in me.
Then I have to shower because I get very sweaty. I’ll let you into a little secret. People think my dewy sheen is the product of an excellent make-up artist, but it’s not. It’s all me, baby, and it’s all natural. After that, I spend the afternoon doing something relaxing, like reading something saucy or catching up on my shows (I’m a die-hard Real Housewives of New Jersey fan). This gives me time to get a heady cocktail of caffeine, amphetamines and green juice pumped into my body via an IV drip. By 6pm, I’m properly awake and ready to go for the next 2 to 4 working days.
In terms of rituals I have, I wouldn’t call it a ritual per se, but I do try to sacrifice at least one white rabbit every month. Obviously, ideally, you’d want to do it on the full moon, but what can I say? I’m a busy lady. The ex and I used to go to this swingers thing every full moon, and let me tell ya: it was tough to squeeze in the sacrifice without killing the mood. Some people like that, of course, but a lot of people don’t. A lot of people. Not all of them, but a lot of them. Other than that, I don’t know. I’m not a very superstitious person and I don’t like to be too much of diva, you know? As long as the venue has read my rider properly and made sure I’ve got 14 small sterling silver paper knives and half a gram of cocaine in my dressing room, I’m all good.
In terms of getting to the venue, honestly, it depends. Sometimes, I’ll actually sleep at the venue. Never intentionally, of course, but I’m just that committed to my craft. And when Larry and I were going through the divorce, it felt rude to bring other guys home, you know? There’s a certain je ne sais quoi about fucking in a dressing room, as well. I just love giving the stars of tomorrow a bit of a backstage tour. A real behind-the-scenes sneak peek at how the magic gets made.
I’m honestly terrible at time management, though, so sometimes I don’t get there until half an hour or so into the show. My tech is a wonderful emcee and moderately good prop comedian, so we just pass it off as him doing a warm-up act for me.
The way I’m feeling before I go on stage… usually with my hands! No, I jest, I jest. I don’t know. That’s a tough one. Normally the drugs have kicked in by that point, so it’s all a bit of a blur. I’m one of those people who gets so into performing, they sort of black out.
When I come to, I’m naked on stage (both literally and metaphorically), tears streaming down my face, and the audience are on their feet. Sometimes because they’re leaving but most of the time because they’re applauding. I’d say my audience walkout to standing ovation ratio is maybe 1:7. We’re not machines, you know? I think one dud show a week isn’t too bad.
Honestly, though, I used to get real bad stage fright. I’d get the shits something terrible before shows. And on bad days, I mean it was coming out both ends. Stagehands fucking hated me. And then, I discovered Dr Jacoby. And let me tell ya: he sorted my nerves out lickity split.
So here’s my advice to all those kids out there who suffer from stage fright too: I know how it feels. I’ve been there. And I can’t recommend enough that you get yourself on a medical trial for ketamine as anxiety medication as soon as you can. It’s life changing.
Look. There’s nothing quite like the high you get from performing. From knowing that everyone in that room is there to see you. And occasionally, they’ve paid money for that privilege. Nothing quite gets my engine going more than when people like me. Not the real me, of course, but that version of me they see up on stage: Mitzi the goddess, Mitzi the icon. It’s a real turn-on. If I could live my whole life on stage, I would.
Let me tell ya. Real Mitzi is pretty fucking good at sex, but the Mitzi you see up on stage? God. She’d need a license to kill before anyone let her fuck. She’d be absolutely fucking lethal.
So how do I feel on-stage? Like I could smother someone to death with my flaps and they’d thank me for it. Like a goddess. An absolute fucking goddess.
Whatever happens the first rule of show business is that the show must go on. And I adhere to that. I mean, I’m a fucking professional. But let me tell ya. That’s not always easy. I remember this one show, a one-woman production of Antony and Cleopatra at the National Theatre, where everything that could go wrong, did. For starters, our producer had forgotten to book the venue. This would have been back in the 90s, so he was probably on meth. After palming $50 to the parking valet, we’d reframed the production as a site-specific thing in the parking lot.
Now, unfortunately, the show used of a lot of bread. My director had a real thing for bread, you know? Thought there was nothing more phallic than a baguette. Costume designer too. He loved the idea of a bodice made out of pita. Now, you know who else has a thing for bread? Birds. They fucking love it.
So all these people who’d come to watch this show at the National, we’ve got them all sitting on the hoods of the posh folks’ cars. It was kinda cute actually, almost like a drive-in movie theatre. Then the birds came. I could see the look of sheer panic on my director’s face as all these birds flocked to the baguette I was trying to deep throat. But you know the magical thing was the audience thought the birds were part of the show.
Honestly, it was fucking profound. I’ve never seen such a perfect encapsulation of the theatrical sublime as Cleopatra crying out, “Give me my robe, put on my crown,” as 80 to 100 pigeons ate bread off her ever more naked body, gifting her, in its stead, a robe of flesh, blood and feathers. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the parking lot.
Rufus Norris himself, artistic director of the National Theatre, came backstage (behind a minivan) after the show to offer his congratulations. He even helped me clean the crumbs and bird shit out of my orifices. Lovely man, with excellent hands. Wonderful long fingers. And surprisingly short, well-manicured nails! And that’s the magic of theatre for you.
I find a good orgasm really calms me down after a busy night. And let me tell ya. I’m not normally one for butt play, but if you stick a thumb up my ass, I will nod straight off. You know how some kids like to suck their thumbs when they go to sleep? I’m like that, but with my ass. On the rare occasions the butt thing fails, I usually find a couple of Valium do the trick.
[Note: Mitzi had to leave to go prepare for her show at this point so her PR manager Posey fielded things from here…]
Mitzi loves all the venues she performs at equally, and any statements, hand gestures or facial expressions that she’s made to the contrary should be interpreted as an ironic joke, which she feels comfortable making because she loves that venue so much.
Personally, I love when Mitzi performs at The Glory, mainly because they give her drink tokens, which allows us to cut down our drinks budget for her. I know Mitzi also enjoys performing at The Glory because, as she’d put it: “The gays love me.”
Recommendations from UAD:
You can catch the sublime enigma of Posey Mehta/Mitzi Fitz next at Good News/Bad News on 7th November and at Troy Club Comedy on 15th December.
The Dusty Knuckle Bakery is a great place to source bread for your site specific performances.
What’s on:
Not Another Drag Competition at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern is running every Monday night until November 28th. The competing drag artists are electric and eclectic and the quality of the judging is stand out.
A Show Called Thursday on 9th November includes UAD favourites Lachlan Werner, Lorna Rose Treen and one of our new must-sees Cabbage the Clown.