LIQUID VINYL OUT ON THE TOWN: Fashion blogger Mallory Gutierrez shows you how to wear the Kelly Maglia moto jacket

Liquid Vinyl is a statement in its own right; but when Kelly Maglia gets her hands on it she creates the essence of edgy style. After recently releasing her latest collection Get A Grip, which was initially for pole dancers and performers alike, she aims to expand her designs to streetwear.

One of my many favorite pieces out of the collection is the Liquid Vinyl Cropped Moto Jacket. I have styled the moto jacket with three different streetwear looks. Kelly’s Rock ‘n Roll Couture is for the creative and bold; someone just like you!

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In this first look I went with a pair of bold patterned shorts and a message crop tee. This outfit is perfect for a fun day out and about. The moto jacket’s material is super comfortable and stretchy, which means you can still be comfortable AND stylish while rocking it.

Flirt with danger and wear a flouncy skater skirt with the moto jacket. Being a slightly dressed up outfit, this is perfect for when you want to look extra good without any effort. I paired a cap sleeve crop top that has sheer stripes under the bust with a bat packed skater skirt. With the impeccable fit of the moto jacket, the sheer stripes revealing slivers of skin, and the cute bats adorning the skirt it says, “I’m sexy yet dangerous”.

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What’s more daring in fashion than combining two extremes? A maxi dress and cropped jacket will definitely turn heads! One of the things I really love about this jacket is that it adds just enough shine to any ensemble. Wearing this super casual maxi dress with the Liquid Vinyl Moto Jacket creates an effortlessly chic look. Add tons of bracelets and rings for an even more stand out appeal.

Just as an added bonus, I’ve included a sneak peek of Kelly’s piece which will make an appearance in a really cool super secret music video so make sure you keep an eye out for the video’s release!The great thing about the jacket is it’s versatility; so you can wear it however you like! How would you rock the Liquid Vinyl Moto?

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Mallory Gutierrez is a dancer, model, and fashion guru. You can follow her here:
Instagram: @intestinebuffet
Twitter: @intestinebuffet

The Stripper and the Ballerina: A Tale of Two Shoes

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One is the stuff of little girls’ dreams. The other, forbidden fruit. One whispers of the sylph, the swan, the dying innocent. The other, the stripper, the slut, the vibrant temptress who never dies – especially not in the minds and groins of men…

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I dreamed of satin slippers and eventually danced in them. Later, I was a good university student where any card-carrying feminist – myself included – learned that the ballet shoe AND the stripper shoe were classic symbols of female subjugation. One was a male fantasy of female other-worldliness and weakness. The other, a sexual construct by men, for men, and created to elicit the most base of pleasures.

Now, fast-forward some years. I’m a woman with a career – a thriving costume business, a hard rock/metal album, and, more than Virginia Woolf’s prescription for a “room of one’s own,” I have a whole place! I might even be the poster child for the modern woman who does what she wants, when she wants, and needs not one penny from a man.

AND I dance on a pole. AND I wear stripper heels. Proudly. My 8” platforms sit in my dance bag, next to my satin pointe shoes. And never once do I feel like a disempowered male fantasy. Quite the contrary, in fact. Because even as a baby pole dancer taking her very class, I saw the pole and these shoes as a path to my liberation – a way to discover my own physical strength and sexuality at the same time.

So I beg the question: in an age when women have taken pole dancing back and are doing it for themselves, can we really see the stripper shoe in the same way we once did? Furthermore, can we not compare it more favorably to the pointe shoe – which despite some feminist objections – still elicits praise and respect from most communities? Are not both tools of athleticism and art? Not to mention female strength and prowess?

In fact, let’s compare these two shoes. First the similarities: Both are, for the most part, uniquely worn by women. Both test one’s balance and require skill to manipulate. And both are said to enhance – or create – a certain feminine mystique.

And now the differences: Pointe shoes can cause damage to the foot, resulting in bloody toes, bunions, and other maladies. Pointe shoes require extensive training and mirco-manipulation of the muscles of the foot for stamina and balance; stripper heels, not so much. Pointe shoes were born in the 19th century, while stripper shoes are a late 20th century invention. Pointe shoes and the ballerinas who wear them are considered artists. Stripper heels and the painted ladies that spin and saunter in them, are “sluts.”

But could it be that the symbol of the stripper shoe has no more inherent meaning than any company logo – the Apple apple, for instance, or the Nike swirl? Both of these companies have worked hard to make us connect the iconography with the brand, but separated, each is truly an orphan, with no known heritage to speak of. So why do we imbue a simple, platform shoe with so much fascination and disgust?

I believe it is because we are uncomfortable with women who display overt sexuality. Whether as women, we are threatened by the “man-stealers” who wear these shoes, or we are simply uncomfortable with our own sexual nature; whether as men, we are fascinated by and yet disrespect the object of our desire because we feel more powerful that way… Whatever the reason to hate or disrespect, the shoe itself is neither the alpha nor omega of it. Rather, it is a symbol that only carries as much meaning as we assign to it – and only ever represents an unexamined part of ourselves.

Now, for many pole dancers reading this, I sound like a lunatic. We don’t wear stripper heels to make some sort of point about our sexuality! It’s not a rebellion or social statement. We wear stripper heels because they make our legs look AWESOME, and they grip the pole like a beast. Plus, who doesn’t want to be a male fantasy from time to time – and isn’t it fun to flirt with the underworld? But whether are conscious of it or not, our shoe and our sport do ask us to walk the razor’s edge of respectability.

Indeed, we must admit than when we step out of our cozy pole dance world, we may find that others react less favorably to our cherished shoe and attire. WE – not they – have assigned different, positive values to the stripper shoe because after all, many of us started our training with little or no upper body strength, and now look at us! For us, the stripper shoe was a path to liberation – not the opposite.

I wonder if ballerinas can say the same. As much as I love ballet, and I have been its devoted practitioner for years, the pointe shoe is not – or is no longer – as loaded a symbol, and therefore it is neither something to overcome, nor necessarily a vehicle for deep personal exploration. Not because pointe shoes aren’t a beast to master, and not because ballerinas are not skilled beyond the layperson’s ability to comprehend. Rather, it is because ballerinas have not been asked to take on a beast that dare not be named – one that I would argue lives inside all of us – the Painted Lady who, until just recently, walked the world alone and in disgrace. Today, we are legion – whether we are or have been an exotic dancer, or whether we simply study the pole for art and sport. Today, Independent Women and Painted Ladies can be one, liberated under one shoe – one rogue, but cherished, symbol of ill-repute.

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For another wonderful point of view, see Nina Reed’s comparison between pole dancers and body builders and how the world reacts differently here.

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Follow @kellymaglia on Spotify and find my debut EP “Just Enough Rough” on iTunes !


A Machete Path to the New

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A new you often begins with throwing something out. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to lay out today’s gourmet meal on the table if yesterday’s fast food is still sitting there gathering flies. And yet, I seemed to have made a career out of piling shiny new stuff on top of detritus. That is, until I took a machete to my house this past weekend and carved out spaces I never knew existed. Including space for me to inhabit an alter-ego that has been in the process of becoming for so long – like a slow cross-fade. Namely, I made space to be a rock star.

Why we hang on to things that no longer serve us is the grand question of modern psychology. For me, it was always the excuse: “I might use this one day, and if I don’t have it, what on earth will I do?” As if keeping that top from the late 90s or that yard of fabric was going to save me from bankruptcy or cancer someday! But in my mind, it often felt that severe to throw something out. “I might need this! And besides, I love this thing I created or bought and it seems to define me, so if I throw it out, who am I?”

But throw it out, I did. And slowly, my place began to feel like it was living and breathing again.

And yet, when I found myself losing it over throwing out my old, beat-up kitchen table, I knew something was up. Could all this emotion really be just about THAT table? After all, it was nothing special, being a mousy brown, and having developed wobbly legs. But this little table, so nondescript, had been purchased by me and me alone as a young girl moving into her first adult place. My parents had helped me carry it upstairs. And it had supported years not just of meals, but bill-paying and journaling – and with me being a designer – many, many hours of costume creation (of which the number of crusty dollops of glue that had become a permanent part of the table’s surface were proof). It had even caught spilled tears over a boyfriend or two… Yes, THAT table had served me well, and I didn’t want it to go – wobbly legs and all. But could it be that I REALLY needed to say goodbye to that young girl who bought the table in the first place – the girl who was now grown up and embarking on a new journey? That thought occurred to me as I brought the table out onto the sidewalk, where my neighbors and I have developed the habit of putting our un-want-ables in the hopes that they may be of use to someone else.

So, the table now deposited safely on the sidewalk, I went back upstairs to position my new table – a black faux leather beauty given to me by one of my best friends (Sienna Spalding). Now THIS is a rock star table if I ever saw one, and I knew she would look magnificent in her new spot…

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This morning I went out to grab a coffee as usual, and I ventured near the spot where I had left my light brown table, bought so many years ago. It was gone. Just like that. And now, someone else who needs it, has it. And that is good. And still the tears come, just a little, as I write this…

Perhaps I don’t need to say goodbye to that young girl, but rather embrace her – and the wonder that she held as she ventured to live in Los Angeles for the first time. Perhaps the table represented that hope and glory of youth – a time in life before you start getting predictable. And perhaps it is she who still dares to be heard, and cried a little when the table left…

And yet, I am learning that I don’t need to keep piles of crap to keep all parts of myself – young and naive or not. In fact, the piles of crap may be the very things keeping us stuck in yesterday and blind to the glories of tomorrow.

It is fitting that I should ponder all of this on the eve of my first EP launch. And as I have made space to become a rock star woman, I can feel my younger self smiling. And perhaps someone who is now eating or paying bills on my brown table will feel me smiling at them from somewhere else in LA, wishing them their new beginning, too.

Cinderella In The Desert

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Putting on a ball gown is hard. In the Cinderella story, it’s easy. The Fairy Godmother appears, and poof! Cinderella is off to the ball.

In real life, that transition can take years. Or it never happens at all. Most of us stay content with sweeping cinders and crouching in corners because going to the ball is infinitely more scary. Somehow we have learned that our deepest desires are wrong, and to follow them means sure ruin.

Growing up in Orange County, California, I was always told not to want too much or dream too big. Because money is hard to come by and artists are crazy. So forget your silly artistic dreams, get yourself a good, safe job and stash your money away. And you’ll be happy someday.

So, I tried that. I tried to behave and follow the rules of whitewashed suburbia. Because I was an A+ student, my father encouraged me to be what every middle class parent wants for their child: “Be a doctor or lawyer!” he said. But the artist I was born to be could not be contained. And yet, I wasn’t ready to defy everything I’d ever been raised to believe.

So I thought: “Ok, if I’m not going to be ‘crazy’ and run off with some figurative circus, what can I do with my life that is creative and yet will make money?” For a while, I was stumped. Until one day my sister – who was a professional dancer and for whom I had designed many costumes – said, “Let’s start a dance costume business.”

And we did. Suddenly, we were off to the races – and it was a success! It wasn’t long before we had a thriving business, and we were costuming dancers all over the world. My designs also began appearing on television. So You Think You Can Dance, Dance Moms, Raising Asia, and Ex-Wives of Rock all came a-calling.

 I was happy. My parents were happy. Life was good, and I had achieved a balance of art and commerce that seemed to be the golden ticket to happiness.

And yet, why did I still feel like I was sweeping up ashes and forgoing the ball?

Well, because there was this little pesky dream of being a rock star that had haunted me since I was a child. Haunted me because I’d always refused to let it see the light of day. Given my upbringing, there was no letting this ugly monster out of the closet. Instead, I let it roam the far recesses of my mind like an angry demon in the attic.

And when the rumbling and wailing upstairs became too loud, I finally had to listen.

And so, here we are. I’m about to launch my first EP, and I just shot the music video for my first single, “Just Enough Rough.” Am I excited? Beyond a doubt! But the monster I released from the attic is now roaming free, and I’m scared…

Days before filming the “Just Enough Rough” video, I stood in front of a mirror in a half-finished ball gown – a Cinderella dress I designed and was having made for the shoot – and I thought: “Who do you think you are? Your seamstress is on the floor cutting your hem and you are standing there like some entitled princess! You should get on the floor and cut your own hem (as if this were physically possible). Or better yet, get out of the gown. The gown is scary. Just go back to cutting other people’s hems, and give up this rock star nonsense.”

When we finished the fitting, I took the dress off – and felt safe again.

Later that night, I felt even safer as I put the dress on my mannequin and began applying appliqué and rhinestones, while I listened to Eddie Trunk interview my favorite band, Skid Row. How familiar! How many hours have I spent doing this? Making costumes for other people, while I listened on the sidelines to my favorite rock stars talk about living their dream.

And isn’t it funny that here I was, about to step into that dream myself, and I was faltering. I couldn’t believe that this beaded blue gown on my mannequin was for me. For ME? And do I really want this gown? Of course I do. But aahhhh!!! Am I about to step into some unknown black abyss that the monster in my attic has lured me into?

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Evening is coming, and I stand in my blue ball gown in the Mojave desert on the day of our shoot. The last embers of the setting sun will flicker on the horizon before giving way to the half moon. My giant tulle skirt, dragging on the ground, has now picked up all manner of desert flora – brambles, twigs, and thorns – as we shoot take after take of me making my way across a barren landscape of yucca trees and cracked earth.

Suddenly, strangely, I know that I have arrived. This dream is meant for me. Unlike a mirage in the desert, this no longer seems like some glittering ephemeron, but rather something more real and lasting than the suburban American Dream I was raised on. This dress feels good – with all its tatters and brambles. And it suddenly feels like home. Made by me, for me. And alas, the monster in my attic seems not to have led me to an abyss, but to real water in the desert – and to what I hope will be a lifetime of going to the ball.

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“Just Enough Rough” music video will launch November 15, 2015. Starring Kelly Maglia, Windu Ben Sayles, Alex Williamson, Jess P. Tzimas, Jason Lobell, and Dave Plesh. Story and concept by Kelly Maglia. Directed by Veronica F. Nichols. Director of Photography: Joseph Hendrickson. Costume design: Kelly Maglia. Editor: Matt Zane. Producer: T Keaton-Woods.






The Democracy Of Pole – and How The West Is Being Won By Pole Sport Organization

PPC Jessica

Jessica Anderson-Gwin – Female Pacific Pole Champion, 2015. Photo courtesy of Alloy Images and Pole Sport Organization.



We’ve all seen the Facebook fights and social media rampages. The pole industry has been all a-twitter in recent years about whether or not we are fair in our competition judging standards, whether we are professional in our presentation to the outside world, whether we should become an Olympic sport, and on and on… The conversations have been friendly and quizzical at best, fiercely heated at worst. And like a raucous, pimply teenager, and (to mix my metaphors) a Wild West gunslinger of old, we have stumbled along, trying to figure out who we are, and in the process, we’ve become notorious.

The shouting on Facebook notwithstanding, our questions are legitimate: Will we go the way of competitive gymnastics and build a rigid-but-universally-accepted scoring system that rewards superhuman feats? Or will we go the way of art and value above all emotion, uniqueness, and story-telling? Or will it become a forked road, one leading toward sport and the other toward theatre? And will there ever be a United States of Pole – or will we continue to duke it out as warring tribes on some never-ending frontier? It remains to be seen, but least no one can accuse us of a lack of enthusiasm 🙂

Or, in fact, of totalitarianism. One thing we’ve really gotten right in the pole industry is democracy – which can be loosely defined as the free and equal right of everyone to participate in decision-making. I have found no other sport where the athlete or artist is in charge of her destiny in quite the same way. Perhaps because our industry is in its early adolescence, the usual gate-keepers who decide who gets to play in the sandbox – for example, sports federations or casting agents – are not yet in place. As of now, anyone who can climb a pole can create a name for him or herself – and if this person is savvy, can develop a fan base without any of the usual help from agents or managers.

This process has been helped along tremendously by the rise of Pole Sport Organization (PSO) and its expanding roster of regional competitions. While most pole competitions these days DO offer an amateur division, such amateurs are usually very advanced – often as skilled as the pros who compete separately – and this can be daunting to the new pole athlete who would like to test her mettle too. But PSO uniquely offers a wide-range of divisions catering to various skill levels, performance styles, and age levels. This means that even a beginner who is 55 years old can compete. And for those performers who are more artistically or theatrically-inclined, there are divisions for them, too – unique events that privilege story-telling and artistic expression over athletic feats.

The only other place I’ve seen this kind of open-ness is in the competition dance or cheerleading worlds. Dance students or cheerleaders of varying skill levels can compete as soloists or on teams with their studios, high schools, or colleges. But these opportunities evaporate the minute a dancer or cheerleader is no longer a student – usually at the ripe-old age of 22. It’s almost as if they are forcibly shoved out of the nest and expected now to “grow up” and get on with making a living. No more time for the “juvenile” pursuit of competition for you, young lady.

Enter the pole industry. In a few short years, competitions have sprung up around the globe, catering almost uniquely to the adult dancer. And I don’t mean “adult” as in X-rated. I mean grown-up women and men, who more often than not have day jobs and who are “contributing” members of society. Nurses, doctors, and lawyers join students, artists, and yes, strippers, on a pole in competitions around the world. Where else does one see this happen? Perhaps only in the world of competitive body building, some circus festivals, and of course, reality television competitions.

For many pole athletes and artists, competitions have been life-changing. Suddenly, they not only have a fantastic hobby, but it is a FOCUSED one in which they push themselves to heights even they never thought possible. And while competition can certainly be stressful, demoralizing, or even catty, most of the competitors I’ve spoken to say that no matter what, pole competitions have made them better athletes and even better people.

Over the years, I have attended many pole competitions and I have also been a judge, but I have to say that PSO competitions do exhibit a degree of fairness rarely seen. I’ve never a judged a PSO event, so I cannot comment on the scoring system that this organization employs (although you can view sample score sheets here:, nor have I any idea how it compares with the judging criteria of other competitions. But no matter what – no matter how rigid and transparent a scoring system is – every athlete is going to feel that she has been judged unfairly at some point. Unfortunately, that is the nature of the competition beast! But the advantage to a PSO competition is that all skill levels, ages, and styles are welcome and rewarded. Anyone may enter, and there is no panel of judges pre-selecting the competitors. And for the performer who has a mind to building herself a following on social media platforms – no matter what her skill level – a PSO competition is a good launching pad for this.

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In contemplating what makes a democracy, one must acknowledge that the ability to invent and re-invent oneself is not necessarily fundamental tenet – but it is implied in spirit. The idea of anything being by and for the people suggests that it is they who call the shots – and not someone from on high. And while I suppose a competition judge could be seen as that Person from on High – the one deciding a dancer’s public value – in reality, this has not really been the case. Just as often happens on, say American Idol, where the over-all winner may not become the next star, while his or her 6th-place finishing co-star storms the music charts, pole stars are created every day, not necessarily because of how they place in competition. Rather, it is how they are able to energize their audiences and utilize the opportunities given them.

Thankfully for such artist-athletes, those opportunities are many. And while this democracy called Pole may be in its bumpy adolescent stages – and we are still in our Wild West phase as we dance and duel our way toward something akin to nationhood – anything by and for the people gets my vote every time. And it will be how the West is won.

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For more info on Pole Sport Organization, please visit

The National Championships are this weekend, August 14-16, 2015


Brandon Grimm – Male Pacific Pole Champion, 2015. Photo courtesy of Alloy Images and Pole Sport Organization.

PPC Brandon

Two Men, One Choice? Not Really!

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I’ve been thinking a lot about security lately. And how it’s over-rated. We’re trained from birth to seek what is safe and familiar, but we are never told that that way, death lies. Not literally, of course. Or maybe yes… All I know is that the  very essence of safety is stagnation, when everything in our being cries out for change – for the next challenge that calls forth the next and the next. When everything is too familiar – i.e. safe and secure – we can lose the wonder that the unknown provides. Safety is, by its very definition, conservative – and it asks that we stay right where we are, with the devil we know, all the while proclaiming that the devils we don’t must be far more wicked…

I used to subscribe to this theory. But not now. Today, I appreciate the unknown, and seek to chase it. The reaching for that thing just beyond the known universe is what life is.

My song, “Two Men, One Choice” is about this. One man taught me about security. And that was nice. Some would say a fundamental human need. But the other man – the one society would deem less acceptable – taught me about the life-giving power of not-easily satisfied desire. Of course, the guy just beyond the pale is NOT the one you bring home to mama. Or so, conventional wisdom would have it. And certainly, your shrink would say your attraction to this man means have Daddy issues. Even your friends will say “You deserve better.” And they mean, “you deserve a sure thing.”

We are taught that the man who provides security is the one we should seek, but I would argue the opposite.  Because first of all, it is really all that wise to rely on someone else for our own well-being and survival? Someone else who could leave or die? But even more than this, I say we should all be so lucky to have a man (or woman) that won’t “cooperate.” Won’t submit to our every whim and demand. Because it is only the untamable one who truly teaches us self-reliance. When he doesn’t do everything we say or wish, we are free. Because it is only then that we do not demand someone else make us happy; it is only then that we know that our happiness – and yes, security –  is up to US.

So is it two men, one choice? Not really. The only choice is to follow one’s own irrepressible spirit – and may we all settle for nothing less in ourselves, or in our partners.

What do you think? Show me in the dance! There’s still time to enter the “Kelly Maglia Rocks” contest. The deadline is midnight, Thursday April 30. Details here:

Silky Satin Shadows

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I used to find comfort in shadows. Like one finds pleasure in a silky satin robe. And it was a garment I knew well. I hid in the soft darkness, refusing the light of the stage, and as a costume designer, I preferred instead to fluff and pin and perfect the women I’d outfitted who would enter the light in my place. Of course, I still love that – making beautiful costumes for beautiful women. But not so long ago, I knew it was my turn now.

My desire to be on stage had been long-suppressed, given the comfort of the shadows. Once upon a time, I had scurried to dark corners because the painful spotlight stripped me of the armor I wore. The armor of needing to be perfect in front of everyone. The armor of the acceptable, over-achieving, money-making middle class life I had been trained from birth to lead. The armor of the American Dream that would keep me firmly entrenched in the pale neutral tones of the workaday world.

Yes, backstage was as close as I could bear to get to the light.

And yet the performer who would not be suppressed continued her silent and then not-so-silent roar. And she was a bitch. As much as the Voice of Responsibility told me to stay put, stay safe, and not run away with the circus or a rock band, my inner bitch had other, more pressing urges. And yet, if I were to flee the shadows, I would have to learn that the spotlight did not mean sure ruin – but salvation.

And so here I am, on the precipice – that narrow line that divides dark from light – and I’m ready to run away with my own circus and my own rock band. There are moments when the Voice of Responsibility makes one last ditch-attempt: “What are you DOING? At your age? Are you crazy? Everything will fall apart!” But more and more, my bitch shuts that down. Bills and taxes and emails will always be there. But they are no reason to find comfort in shadows again. The light is calling, and I’ve taken my place in the wings, ready to step across the divide…


Just One Thing


I spent my life hating the way I looked. Growing up, I would have swam the entire Mississippi River just to be a skinny blonde girl with straight hair and no boobs. Wait, WHAT??? Could I have picked something MORE opposite than myself? Did I just want cruel and unusual punishment? Or was it simply that I wanted to be the quintessential California Girl? I don’t know, but I gave up that absurdity long ago, and I’ve never looked back. And while there are days that I still hate my thighs, more and more I understand that beauty is not one thing – i.e. blonde hair or a “perfect” body. It’s the over-all radiance of self-appreciation and respect for just what we are. And yet, that can sound totally crazy when when we really don’t like the way we look. Like some self-help mumbo jumbo written by someone who has never struggled. But surely we can find ONE thing about our bodies that we find beautiful, right? For me, it started with my eyes. I liked my eyes – hands down, no argument. What’s one thing YOU like about you? Go on – brag a little!

One Minute of Unmistakable YOU


What is one minute? Perhaps, it’s twenty breaths. Or a few sips of espresso. Definitely less time than one red light at an intersection. And yet it everything. One moment can say who you are…

The “Kelly Maglia Rocks” video contest is about YOU – and what makes you UNMISTAKABLE (see official contest rules and prizes at Your entry can be only one minute long, or it can take up the whole song. It can be free-styled or choreographed. It can be on any apparatus – or lack thereof. It can be costumed, or performed in sweats. It’s not about tricks or perfection although those things are certainly not discouraged! It is about the way YOU move. Not anyone else. It’s about the way you hear the music. Not anyone else. It is about your inner siren, or diva, or bitch…

I co-wrote each song on my website, and all the lyrics are mine. So of course, each song is very personal to me. But I love sharing my life experiences with other women, and seeing your interpretation is like us having a chat over coffee or cocktails 🙂

Also, I chose our celebrity judges Natasha Wang, Anastasia Skukhtorova, and Nadia Sharif not only because they are women who consistently show their uniqueness, but they are also the some of the most supportive and encouraging teachers on the planet. With each of them, monster talent does not equal a monster attitude! And feedback from them is a true gift.

So go ahead – take one minute to show us YOU in all your unmistakable glory. I can’t wait!