Choosing To Be Seen — Meeting Kily Shakley

“I question what’s considered normal and choose to live in my own style.” Arriving at that point and allowing yourself to step beyond society’s expectations placed on you is a liberating act. Of course it doesn’t mean a social consensus isn’t important to keep society functioning — but in many areas the best thing you can do is to question them.

Meeting Kily Shakley feels a little like stepping into another world, where reality softens and character, memory and imagination start to blur. There is something cinematic about the way she speaks about burlesque: not as spectacle, but as a place of refuge, a language, almost a personal mythology she keeps expanding with every appearance. Photographed by Anouk Brouwer in Tokyo, they manage to capture exactly that — intimacy and distance, softness and control. The images feel less like documentation, and they capture Kily’s incredible strength in her presence; you can feel the love and passion for what she does. That’s why we were happy to talk with her about rebellion, alter egos, Japanese aesthetics and why choosing to be seen can sometimes be the most private act of all.

Do you remember the first moment you felt drawn to the stage?

I wandered into a cabaret in New York by myself and saw a burlesque show without knowing much about it. At that time, my life felt boring, lonely, and empty.

The moment the show began, I was pulled into an unreal, almost cinematic world. Even as someone sitting in the audience, I felt like I had become a character inside a film. I could forget reality completely.

That cabaret world saved me in a way. And after being saved by it, I decided to pursue this path seriously myself.

Your looks feel like entire characters and not only just outfits. When you create a costume, are you already imagining the story it will tell under the lights?

I’m inspired by the fairy tales I loved as a kid and by old movies. When I make a costume, I’m already imagining a story — almost like what happens after the original story ends. I daydream about that future and design the costume while picturing how it will come alive under the lights.

Burlesque has such a long, layered history. What does being a showgirl mean to you in 2026 — rebellion, fantasy, freedom, or something completely different?

For me, being a showgirl is a way of life — and a kind of rebellion. It’s about resisting reality, claiming my own freedom, and constantly searching for beauty. I question what’s considered “normal” and choose to live in my own style.

Choosing to be seen, choosing to seduce, all on my own terms — not as something shameful, but as a space where I’m allowed to truly be myself. That’s the world I’m creating as a showgirl today.

“Being a showgirl is a way of life — and a kind of rebellion.”

What was it like working with Anouk Brouwer? The images carry a darker, more intimate tone — where do you think that feeling came from?

Working with Anouk feels like sharing the moment we’re living in. In front of her delicate, honest lens, I can’t lie — and the idea of a “right answer” disappears. Instead, I offer my real, current self, almost like giving a quiet update on where I am in life. I think that’s where the darker, more intimate tone comes from.

On stage you radiate confidence, but what is Kily like five minutes before the curtain opens?

I’ll leave that up to your imagination.

You’ve performed in different countries, including Japan. Did those experiences change the way you think about sensuality and performance?

Working internationally made me re-study Japanese aesthetics and values. It also deepened my respect for being Japanese and for my own culture, and shifted my focus more toward subtlety and sensitivity.

At the same time, it pushed me to reflect on who I am — to look back at my past and understand what shaped the person I am today. That kind of self-dialogue has become an important part of how I think about my shows now.

“Choosing to be seen, choosing to seduce, all on my own terms — that’s where I’m allowed to truly be myself.”

Is there a character you created that felt almost like an alter ego — someone who allowed you to express parts of yourself you usually hide?

I’ve dated all kinds of people, and sometimes things didn’t work out. So every now and then, I’ll create a character that ironically plays the exact type of woman an ex used to like.

It’s a little sarcastic, a little cathartic — and honestly, a lot of fun.

And finally: if you could leave one message stitched inside every costume you create, what would it say?

“Is that all there is?” It’s the title of the song I love the most in this world.