If you run into this week’s profile on the street, don’t call out, “Hey, Miss Thing!” — because after weeks of intense competition, Tiel Guarino has earned the title of Miss Everything.
Miss Everything is a 10-week contest produced by Josh Schonewolf, whom you may know from Josh Can’t Cook, Miss Fish, Songbird, Bearlesque, Weird Beard Revue, Philadelphia’s Burlesque Battle Royale and his profile in this very column. He’s also producing a new show with Guarino showcasing the best and baddest of unique talent in the city.
We spoke to Guarino about her title and the upcoming show.
PGN: So what makes a person Miss Everything?
TG: Oh man, that is a multifaceted answer. I was lucky enough to have an insight into it because one of my very good friends is Timaree, aka Honeytree Evil Eye, who was the very first Miss Everything. For me, Miss Everything was about being versatile, about not just being Miss Burlesque or just Miss Aerial or Miss Theater Girl or Singer or Miss Musician or Dancer. I’m fortunate to have a short list of weird shit that I can do.
PGN: What are the rules or qualifications for being Miss Everything?
TG: Show producer Josh Schonewolf told me the criteria and it’s simple. It’s open to anyone who identifies as a female performer, which is really beautiful. We have sideshow, we have circus, we have drag artists, great people who do a variety of interesting things.
PGN: What are some of the skills you possess?
TG: I am a classically trained dancer for 30 years. I’m a pole dancer/aerialist for 12 years. I’ve been a burlesquer for 12 years. I’m an acrobat of five years. I’ve done a bunch of theater work. I’m a yogi. I’m a musician.
PGN: What instruments do you play?
TG: I played the flute and the oboe growing up; the fingerings for the oboe is the same as the flute, just sideways. And the embouchure of the mouth is also different because it’s a reeded instrument. But I haven’t touched either in ages, ages!
PGN: Ugh. I took the flute in third grade and hated it. I finally complained to my father that my mother was trying to live vicariously through me. In dramatic fashion, I stated that she wasn’t too old to learn it herself if she wanted and he talked her into letting me quit.
TG: Oh my God, that’s funny! I grew up in the South — Wilmington, N.C. — and we weren’t allowed to start band instruments until the sixth grade. So I played from sixth grade through high school.
PGN: Born there?
TG: I was actually born in Providence, R.I. Both of my parents were from Boston but my maternal grandparents migrated south to North Carolina. They had six kids and they’ve all slowly moved south. I lived there until I was 27.
PGN: How did you get up here?
TG: My husband grew up here and when I had baby number two we moved here. Well, to the suburbs of Philadelphia.
PGN: Tell me something about you as a kid that foreshadowed you becoming a performer.
TG: My mom said I came out of the womb dancing. She said I could dance before I could walk.
PGN: What kind of dance did you do?
TG: I did all the classics: ballet, jazz and tap. As I got older, I got into point shoes, which I hated. I knew I wanted something else and I dabbled in ballroom for a bit but when I found modern dance, I was like [clasps hands to heart], this is me. This is where I can emote and make art come out of my body, and it’s readable for an audience member. I am sad, I am traumatized, I am happy, I’m in love … that’s where movement lies for me.
PGN: It’s such an amazing art because nothing else is needed but your body. But then you stopped dancing …
TG: Well, I danced for a number of years and was involved in a number of things like theater, music, etc. But I was that girl you read about in health class who got pregnant the third time she had sex. So I went from having a very, very tiny athletic, toned, dancer body to becoming huge. I’m massive when I’m pregnant — 180 pounds on a 5-foot-2 frame. I lost all my muscle mass and got big with Andrew but then lost it pretty quickly and was left with loose skin and curves and stretch marks, which threw me for a loop. I was like, I don’t want to show my body to anyone! But a really good friend, Tim Kennedy, suggested I check out the cabaret group he was working with. I was 18 and a single mom working and going to nursing school but I checked it out and it was amazing. It was burlesque and theater and music and I was like, I love these people. This is my tribe! I started hanging out with them and eventually got involved in doing burlesque down south. It became my way of reclaiming my body, which was really, really, really great for me.
PGN: Did you meet your husband down there?
TG: Yes, he was a student at Wilmington. I was 24 at the time and working at a gentleman’s club. I am proud to say that, yes, I was an exotic dancer. I started as a bartender and very quickly realized I could make more money as a dancer. It put me through college. I was able to put food on the table and get up in the morning with my son. Chris was working at the club as a bouncer and we became best friends during a very hard year in my life. It was one of those things where after a while I realized, I think I like you, like you. And we went from there.
PGN: Did you say nursing school before?
TG: Yes, I was five credits short of my nursing clinicals when I did a labor and delivery clinical. I’m very empathetic — I carry people’s emotions — and during a rotation I helped deliver a stillborn baby and that was it. Nope, nope, nope. It was too much. I went to massage school and got a degree in therapeutic massage and it was during that time that I started working and dancing at the Crazy Horse.
PGN: So you came up to the Philly area and became a suburban mom. How did you get into the burlesque scene here?
TG: I’d been living here for two years and started teaching pole dance at a studio in Manayunk. A friend, Sarah, invited me to do a pole-dance performance in Philadelphia at Sisters nightclub. Honeytree, or you probably know her as Timoree, did the booking and we became fast friends. She told me later that she recognized the fire and talent in me right off the bat. I got a number of jobs through her, mostly at Sisters until they closed. I’m also a group-exercise instructor and teach Zumba and ballet barre and a bunch of other stuff in the suburbs. One of the jobs was supposed to be a gig at a place in the Gayborhood and I was supposed to be doing pole — I have a portable one for shows — but they cancelled on us and the show was moved to the Victoria Freehouse. I got there and the ceilings weren’t high enough for the pole. Josh was the producer and that’s how we met. When the pole didn’t fit, he asked what I could do and I said, “Well, I’ll just do a burlesque number,” even though I hadn’t done it for years. Later he told me he was impressed by my professionalism and flexibility. Two months later, he asked me to participate in Miss Everything!
PGN: Cool! So back to the family. Last time the kids made you laugh?
TG: I have two kids and I treat them like they’re people. Chris and I are interesting parents because by night I’m this little weird muppet, funny, burlesquer, naked person and by day I’m this suburban mom … well, not so much anymore. I got to the point where I didn’t care what people thought so I shaved half my hair and dyed it purple. My daughter is hysterical. Last time she made me laugh was this morning. The kids were in the family room and laughing at something. It was one of those true, visceral belly laughs and it made me laugh just watching them having fun and loving each other’s company. That doesn’t always happen; they’ve learned to fight ingeniously. Andrew can be the quiet instigator but Adrianna’s the one who burns fire. She’s a pistol. One day my son came running up and said, “Mom, Adrianna said something bad. She called me the B word.” So I walked into the room and she was on the floor coloring. She didn’t even look up at me. Mind you, she was 3 at the time. I said, “Adrianna! Did you call your brother a bitch?” She was like, “Yeah.” I said, “Why did you do that?” and without looking up she stated, “Because he’s being a little bitch.”
PGN: That’s funny. So what is your connection to the queer community?
TG: I’m bisexual. But my main connection before Miss Everything was through performing at Sisters. I met Denise Cohen and Trish and a number of great people there. It was home to me. Growing up as a bisexual woman in the South was a challenge. When I was pregnant with Andrew, my hormones were raging and I realized, Oh, this is a real thing, not a passing curiosity. I like women as much as I like men. So Sisters was a safe space for me.
PGN: I understand you’re hosting a new show at ICandy.
TG: Yes, Josh and I are co-producing it and it’s called “S’Tiel: The Show” — Josh’s clever play on my name. It’s a show with people like myself who defy gravity: aerialists, acrobats, hoopers, sideshow people, all the weird and quirky people. I don’t think the community gets to see enough of the aerial badasses in this town. It will be a monthly show that debuts Oct. 6, the day after my birthday.
PGN: Outside of family and work, what hobbies might you have?
TG: I’m an avid reader. I usually have three books going at once: something really intellectual, some kind of who-done-it and then something really smutty and nasty! As out in the community as I am, Tiel the person needs a lot of alone time and space. Sometimes people don’t understand that. They’ll see me on the street and expect me to be Tiel the performer. But she’s a character, a caricature of me, all of the things Tiel the person is too shy to be.
PGN: Kind of like Beyoncé and Sasha Fierce.
TG: Yeah, it’s real but a lot of people don’t understand it and think I’m being rude if I’m not on all the time, but I’m just quiet on my own.
PGN: But you do make your voice heard. There was an incident you posted about recently.
TG: Yes, I was in a parking garage — the one right near Sisters on Juniper — and as I was taking the elevator up to my car, six guys got in the elevator with me. I was alone and one of the guys decided it was OK to put his hand on my ass. At that point, I decided there was nothing I could do but stay quiet and get off as soon as possible. As soon as I got home, angry and reeling from what had happened, I put up a post on Facebook. I feel if we’re silent about these things, they will perpetuate. The next morning when I got up, I was furious about the responses I received: “Why didn’t you have a knife? You should carry Mace or a taser.” Clearly not understanding rape culture. I literally did the only thing I could have to keep myself safe. I was alone with six guys, they weren’t intoxicated, it was deliberate and I made the smartest decision for my own safety and survival. Just swatting his hand away could have turned the situation into something worse. The amount of un-consensual touch that happens on large and small scales is infuriating. Because I’m a smaller woman, the one I get regularly from men is a polite hand on the small of my back; it’s disgusting. Why do you think you can touch me without asking? It happens so frequently, and it’s my hell-hath-no-fury mission to scream from the rooftops until it stops.
PGN: David Letterman used to kiss the hand of all his female guests at the end of each interview. I hate that. I don’t want someone’s saliva on me!
TG: Yes, consent is important! And fuck that patriarchal gender-role shit. I’m teaching my kids to fight gender stereotypes. I tell my daughter, “You don’t need a prince to save you, you’re your own heroine.”
PGN: Last time you did something for the first time?
TG: It was probably during Miss Everything. That’s when I created my drag persona. I’ve never been a drag queen before but it was super cool. Our third challenge week was called Identity Theft and you had to pick a Philadelphia performer and become them. A lot of the time they’re mockeries of the person or done satirically but I chose Robin Graves, who is now my drag mother and she painted me as her and I became her. That’s when I discovered that I really like doing drag. It’s super melodramatic and wild and over the top and I loved it. I may have a vagina, but I am now a drag queen.
PGN: Describe your favorite meal growing up.
TG: My family is Portuguese and my mom makes this traditional dish with chicken and potatoes and paprika and garlic. It’s beautiful. The most wonderful thing you could eat.
PGN: Any recurring dreams or nightmares?
TG: Oh, yes, but it’s really personal. It has to do with being sexually assaulted as an adolescent and the inescapable, unbridled feeling of weakness and helplessness you experience. It often keeps me up at night.
PGN: I’m sure. A time period you’d go back to?
TG: Ha. The feminist movement in the ’60s, bra burning and rebellion.
PGN: What else is on the horizon?
TG: I’m doing “Agitated” this month, which is a show presented by Honeytree Evil Eye and Pilar Salt. It’s on Sept. 28 at Franky Bradley’s. And I’m excited to host my own show starting Oct. 6 at ICandy. “S’Tiel: The Show” will be full of talent and fun, wild and wacky and wonderfully weird!
PGN: Sounds like your bio!
TG: You got me!
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