Acts of Violet(37)
Considering the first few minutes in her company, it’s clear my work is cut out for me.
Though this bar is known for its boozy milkshakes, Violet orders a club soda and pulls out a slender flask from her back pocket.
“My grandfather made a vodka from peas and passed on the recipe. It’s the only alcohol I drink, and nothing is better,” she says, sipping from the pewter flask. “Even the top-shelf stuff tastes like nail polish remover by comparison.”
Before I suggest she mass-market her grandfather’s recipe, she tells me Volk Vodka will hit retail shelves in time for Christmas. No doubt the packaging will be spectacular.
I’m not sure whether to mention the photo shoot from earlier in the week, but Violet is quick to apologize for her outburst.
“I didn’t mean to be unprofessional, and I regret losing my patience like that. I hope you got some usable photos.”
As a matter of fact, the pictures taken after Violet’s self-imposed makeover turned out to be miles better than anything shot before; these were dynamic, lively, and filled with attitude. When I tell her as much, her nod is half modest, half knowing.
It’s puzzling, considering the way Violet is able to command a room, that this is her first real interview since 1995.
“You make it sound like I’m a monk coming out of hiding. There are talkers and doers and I’m one of those people who would rather show you what I’m capable of instead of talking myself up. Naturally, press is part of the game I’m expected to play, but I’ve found it a better use of my time not to bother with all that and work on being the best damn magician I can be. Of course, when you don’t play, the media tells whatever story they want to tell. Anybody can make shit up about me, pass themselves off as ‘a close source,’ and it’ll be printed.”
And plenty has been printed about the semireclusive illusionist, from rumors of a threesome-gone-bad being the cause of Jackson Cleo’s divorce (“he and I hung out, like, three times total, nothing happened, and I never even met his wife”), to whispers of an affair with mentor Ace Morgan when she was underage (“don’t be gross, he’s like an uncle to me”), to her possessing actual telekinetic abilities (“I fucking wish. I wouldn’t be so lazy about brushing my teeth before bed”).
Given the tabloids’ penchant for misinformation, one might think Violet is looking to set the record straight on other issues, but she’s blunt about her desire to promote her upcoming residency at the Kintana Resort and Hotel in Las Vegas.
“I’ve gotta keep the people in suits who make money off me happy. They built the theater special for my show, so we need to get the hype machine going.”
It was Violet’s decision to go with Foxxy; she cites it as her favorite magazine without a hint of obsequiousness.
“I appreciate the way it doesn’t kowtow to celebrities but shows them more as real, flawed people. Like, I’m sure you’ll write about my little Holly Golightly meltdown, and that’ll make some people see me as a spoiled diva.” Though she would prefer they see her “as someone who doesn’t put up with derivative crap. I commit myself a hundred percent to being original and creative and putting my personality into everything I do.”
Some might argue Volk has capitalized on existing trends to find her own place in the alternative movement. She’s following recent successful acts like the Jim Rose Circus’s edgy sideshow, pop goth movies like The Crow and The Craft, and bold music personalities like Courtney Love and Marilyn Manson.
When I point this out, she bristles at the word “trendy.”
“I can’t help it if what I’m doing fits into a greater pattern of what people happen to like.”
Volk has gone from being unknown, performing in a downtown burlesque club, to a multimillion-dollar contract with the Kintana in the span of a couple of short years. But she is not one to sugarcoat her whirlwind success.
“Okay, first of all, it wasn’t a couple of short years. I’ve been working at this since I was a kid—I was probably doing coin manip before I could walk. Second of all, I know you’re looking for a cute sound bite about what a fucking fairy tale my life is. Like, golly gee, it’s so awesome to have your dreams come true after working so hard, yada yada yada. But it’s more like waiting in line at an amusement park, not knowing if it’ll ever be your turn to go on the ride. And if you’re lucky enough to get on it, like I was, it’s thrilling but also faster and scarier than you ever expected. Sometimes you enjoy it and wanna go even higher and faster. Sometimes, it makes you kinda sick, and you wish it would slow down. On top of that, you’re always kinda terrified it’s gonna end, so you just try to hold on for dear life.”
It’s far from the sunny gratitude-laden epithets you’d typically hear a newly minted starlet utter, but Volk is not your typical celebrity.
“The truth is, it’s actually like being in a hamster wheel whose speed is being remote controlled by a sadistic bastard. On top of that, you have to deal with all these mixed messages. ‘Your show is perfect and you’re perfect but let’s add some new tricks and also, could you make it sexier and do something about your nose?’ ‘We love your feminist vibe and how teenage girls look up to you, now can you endorse these diet pills, which most of the time don’t cause heart failure?’ ‘It’s cute how you’re dating your choreographer, but could you pause that to have a fling with this actor so he gets extra press before his opening weekend, and also could you keep the bi thing hush-hush?’”