How did you get your stage name?
The Italian refers to my Calabrian origins. Santa Stiletto expresses my paradoxical background. “Santa” because I often wear cross-shaped pendants and even though as an adult I’ve sorted out my beliefs, I’m still a believer. “Stiletto” refers to the other part of me, the one that seduces in high heels. Santa stiletto is a bit like a modern Mary Magdalene!
How did you get into dance?
I was born in Switzerland to an Italian father and a mother from Bern. When I was ten, I saw a Crazy Horse Paris archive video with Rosa Fumetto. It was a strange moment: I was surrounded by my Italian grandparents, who were very conservative. But I was totally captivated by these images. They imprinted themselves on my retina, and I grew up holding them hidden inside me like a precious treasure.
As a teenager, this memory became persistent and insistent. At fifteen, I dropped out of school. All I could think about was moving to Paris to fulfill my secret dream of becoming a Crazy Girl! My family insisted that I go to school. I started an apprenticeship as a medical assistant. The year I turned eighteen, I graduated in July and arrived in Paris in August! I started training at the Académie Internationale de la Danse while working in strip clubs without telling anyone. I knew nothing about this world, but I had youth and beauty on my side. I just had to find my “siren energy” as I like to call it: how to reach the height of my sensuality on stage. During these years in Paris, of course I tried my luck at Crazy Horse Paris.
How did your audition go?
I auditioned four times. Every time it was incredibly stressful to be competing against professional dancers. But I was in a very special frame of mind that went beyond determination. Despite my atypical background, I knew, deep down, that I belonged here. For me, Crazy Horse Paris wasn’t a career option, it was my destiny. Period. I also knew that I’d have to work fifteen times harder than the others to catch up in dance. I may not have had their experience, but my energy, my look, my faith… Those are what would get me over the line. Despite carrying this conviction deep in my heart, I was turned down several times.
One day, by chance – or not… – Andrée Deissenberg, the artistic director of Crazy Horse Paris, saw me performing as a stripper at a famous Paris event. That was when she finally decided to give me a chance. Despite my outsider background, I was warmly welcomed by the other dancers. In the end, what unites us is this “crazy” energy we all share.
How would you define your relationship with dance?
I discovered dance late in life, but it’s imprinted on my body and my soul. When I dance, I seek the “indirect effect” evoked by the great choreographer Martha Graham. This is when a dancer feels so intensely what he or she is doing on stage that the sensation is transmitted to the audience. That’s what I’m trying to convey to the audience today: a physical, bodily, sensual sensation.
If you had to describe a Crazy Girl in three words?
Loving, heartbroken and indestructible. Personally, I’ve had my heart broken all my life, but I don’t think that this is either a weakness or a flaw. Quite the contrary!
Has becoming a Crazy Girl changed your vision of femininity?
Crazy Horse Paris is the House where choreographic vocabulary is worked on as if in a laboratory. Here we achieve the cutting edge of sensuality, femininity and seduction. As a dancer in this House, I believe we are inevitably impacted by this process. Our vision of femininity is enriched, refined and strengthened over time.
What would you say to the little girl you were when you were watching Rosa Fumetto?
I’d tell her something my father used to say: “When you’re touched by passion, you’re touched by God’s grace.” Passion is a gift of life. But not everyone feels that way. So I’d tell her to keep pursuing her dream, because she’s lucky to be so passionate.
Which act of the Totally Crazy! show do you think is most mesmerizing?
Lay Laser Lay. I’m completely blown away by the dancers who perform it. It’s a number where I feel like I’m entering the dancer’s intimacy. I also recognize myself in this woman who seems to be a desired but hunted creature. I feel she belongs to the “belli e maledetti” of southern Italy, which means the “beautiful and cursed”. This character particularly appeals to me.
Photos: Léon Prost
