Adria Lang began her life of glamour and intrigue in Merrick, Long Island some twenty-nine years ago. A successful actress and weaver of tales from the very beginning, she was a natural performance artist and captivated family members with her impromptu shows that mostly consisted of running around the house naked with a basket on her head. Not a lot has changed since then. At the age of ten she attended Juilliard while also attempting her first adaptation. Backstage with Victor Hugo, was shot down by her own mother who criticized her spelling with relish to a superfluous extreme. Unable to deal with the rejection, she cloistered herself and began working on her acting, a passion that would consume most of her teenage years. At eighteen she shuffled off America's capitalistic coils and moved to England where she attended Bretton Hall College, a small, incestual, institution of higher learning that in retrospect, she can't really prove ever existed. It was an experimental time for young Lang, lady lovers and illegal narcotics, sojourns to London and other exotic European cities (like Blackpool), only sent her imagination reeling further out onto the fringe. How close she was to visiting Berlin! So close she could taste it, but her student visa ran out sending the lovely little fish back to the biggest pond of all, New York City. Panic set in almost immediately. A stranger in a strange land with the work ethic of a fruit bat, Lang tried to hold a job. The Swing scene was in full Big Band swing and employers soon tired of the lazy receptionist dragging her hung-over self into work twenty minutes late every god-damn morning, reeking of a cheap speakeasy. She worked for a while as a waitress in a house if ill repute ñ ill, mostly for the food, but also because of its scandalous name - La Maison De Sade. Corsets and leashes perhaps did suit her more than tailored suit jackets and phone cords, so she stuck with it getting her first glimpse of the dirty pink underbelly of the city she would forever call her lover. Oh she tried to audition, but the depressing sight of the same girls, in the same calf length floral skirts, with their curling irons, stage mothers and tales of Summer Stock in Idaho nearly sent her off the deep end. Polly Peabody, the globe trotting British slut, was born on a rainy afternoon in a kitchen on thirty-third and third. Her first burlesque show at The Va Va Voom Room was slated for the following night, so over a cold cup of tea and a biography of poet Harry Crosby, she searched and found her alter ego lurking within the pages. How liberating was this thing called Burlesque! How wonderful to damn convention, to shock, amuse and tickle all at the same time. How opposite it was from the pretentious dronings of the floral skirt abusing, bore me to tears, off-off Broadway set! How non-committal, how safe, how easy to play the big fish once more. She now enjoys an illustrious carrer at the hands of her creator and along with her burlesque partner, Crystal Swarovski (Lopsided Productions) the two of them have been tearing up LA with shows and appearances at venues such as Tangier, The Overlook, the Key Club and Cabaret Voltaire. Polly's talents range from sexy songstress to Burlesque Comedy Diva.

A screenwriter and novelist, Adria is located in Los Angeles.

CATEGORIES:
Burlesque Dancer
Showgirl
Dance Troupe
Go-Go Dancer
Singer
Emcee
Walkaround Host
Comedienne (Character)

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