14 CHICAGO READER | FEBRUARY 3, 2006 | SECTION ONE

Our Town

“Mud wrestling is really intense,”Bell says. “It’s total sensory depriva-tion: The mud is in your mouth, youreyes, your nose. You can’t hear any-thing. And the mud makes it so slip-pery you can’t do anything but slip andslide around each other.” Nonetheless,the lady wrestlers went at it. The firstmatch ended in a draw, but the audi-ence pulled for Cheerbleeder, who—nopun intended—fought dirty, tuggingEl Baño’s bra half off.

Over the next hour and a half sev-eral of the Mud Queens exited thering with their costumes ripped inhalf or off; spanking was deployedduring submission holds; women inthe front row pawed BT Bruiser, beg-ging for kisses after her pummelingvictory over Pippi Jawstopping; a

pansexual make-out orgy took placeringside during the fifth match; peo-ple urinated in trash cans so as not tomiss any action; and everyone in thefront two rows got as soaked in mudas the wrestlers.

In the final round, the scrawnytwentysomething raffle winner put aG-string with “drama queen” printedon the crotch over his boxers and lettwo wrestlers clobber him. The filthyaudience then made their way out tothe street. The old man from the frontrow giddily wiped mud from his suitas he made his way down the corridor,sandwiched between leather-cladpunks. Uniformed police had justarrived and were standing at the frontdoor. As he passed the bewilderedofficers, the old man hoisted histhumb and said, “It’s the best!” v

15 Minutes

AmbushedSuzannah Martin’scoworkers and fiance ratted her out to the fashion police.

By Heather Kenny

S uzannah Martin’s friends willtell you that before last fall shewasn’t a total fashion disaster.

“She was just a rugged Vermont girl,”says Suzi Crawford, a friend ofMartin’s fiance who’s gotten to knowthe 36-year-old mother of two over

the last three years. “She’s down-to-earth, and her style and clothesreflected that.” But to DeCarlaHilliard, the office manager at theEvanston Koenig & Strey real estateagency where Martin’s worked forthree years, down-to-earth wasn’tgood enough to make the leap fromselling north-side condos to million-dollar North Shore homes. “It wasn’tso much that she dressed badly,” saysHilliard. “It was just that her profes-sional look needed help.”

The producers of the TLCmakeover show What Not to Wearagreed: they contacted Hilliard with-in hours of her initial e-mail,impressed by style gaffes like thepurple feather scrunchie that Martinhad borrowed from one of her young

[snip] The makeover continues. “Our planet’s future depends on our redesigning the currentenergy system, which relies on fossil fuels that emit tremendous amounts of carbon and green-house gases into the air,” says Wal-Mart, the world’s largest retailer, on its Web site. “Climatechange is an urgent threat. . . .We plan to reduce our overall greenhouse gas emissions by 20 per-cent over the next eight years. We will also design a store that will use 30% less energy and pro-duce 30% fewer greenhouse gas emissions than our 2005 design within the next 3 years.” —HH

continued from page 13

continued on page 16

CHICAGO READER | FEBRUARY 3, 2006 | SECTION ONE 15

16 CHICAGO READER | FEBRUARY 3, 2006 | SECTION ONE

Our Town

daughters and the Trader Joe’s bagshe was using as a briefcase. “Onenight she had me looking for it—shethought someone had thrown it awayin the trash,” says Hilliard. “That puther over the top.”

Martin had never heard of theshow when she was ambushed by acamera crew at the Shedd Aquariumin October—the first step in theshow’s patented tough-love approachto fashion therapy. A self-describedthrift-store queen, she was dressedthat day for hanging drywall at herEvanston home. “I was a little putout,” she says. “I didn’t know theshow, and the title What Not to Weardoesn’t sound encouraging.”

Afterward, Martin said, “therewere some weepy moments.” Butfriends familiar with the show con-vinced her it’d be fun—and thepromise of a $5,000 shopping spreein New York made the prospect ofhaving her wardrobe mocked onnational TV a little more palatable.By the time she agreed to participate,“I knew what I was getting into.”

Last Friday friends, family, andclients gathered at Pete Miller’sSteakhouse in Evanston to watchMartin’s small-screen debut, noshingon bruschetta and fried calamari andkeeping an eye on the four or fiveyoung children darting around theroom. Martin, a petite redhead,nursed a martini. She made sure allher guests had drinks as well:“There’s no watching this show with-out alcohol,” she warned.

Many of the guests had also been

present at the big “reveal” at WickerPark’s Thyme Cafe in early November,and they gossiped about the produc-tion company, which had run two anda half hours late and left Martin’sfiance, Brian Becharas, to cover thebill for snacks for 30 hungry people.Plus, Becharas added, they seemedindifferent to the realities of everydaylife. “Here’s a girl with two kids,clients. They didn’t tell Suzannahabout her travel plans to New Yorkuntil less than 48 hours before. It wasa comedy of errors when you look athow they produced it. I hope theywere kind to her in the editing room!”

The show, shown on several large-screen TVs around the bar, openedwith a shot of the skyline. Everyonewhooped. Then the “before” sectionbegan, featuring footage secretly shotby the producers and Becharas—whopretended he’d gotten a free videocamera from work. There wasMartin, makeup-free, her long hairin a ponytail, wearing the oversizesweaters and clunky scuffed shoesthat a friend described as “I-still-think-I’m-in-college clothes.”

Cohost Stacy London held up astretchy top from Martin’s closet andcocked an eyebrow. “They’re forgiv-ing,” Martin protested.

“Nobody’s going to forgive you forwearing these,” snapped London.

On-screen, Martin’s smile was tight,but in the bar she threw back herhead and roared, even when the otherhost, Clinton Kelly, said she lookedlike she was “selling empty lots”instead of houses. Later, when Martinitemized the problems with a couple

outfits they’d picked out, Kellyaccused her of overanalyzing, at whichpoint Megan Matthews, a collegefriend from the University of Chicago,started chanting: “U. of C.! U. of C.!”

The crowd had cheered whenMartin told the hosts that she didn’tspend a lot on clothes, but her newlook—a shorter do, understatedmakeup, and sleek new garmentsthat fit—clearly impressed even thedoubters. “I had anxiety that thewomen in her office were like, ‘You’renot one of us, you need to be subur-banized,’” admitted Matthews,Martin’s longtime thrifting partner.But, she added, “for the most part,the things she got were true toher. . . . She’s still keeping it real at thethrift store but being more selective.”

At the party Martin was bummedthat a quip about a nice leather jack-et being “a lot of leather for a vege-

tarian” didn’t make the final cut. “Ithink I might be a little more vocaland opinionated than some of thepeople they get,” she said. “I wasbeing somewhat flexible but definite-ly having a mind of my own.”

In fact, Martin proudly pointedout, the sweater she was wearing wasa secondhand find. Her jacket wasfrom Ann Taylor, and her PaperDenim & Cloth jeans were from theshow. “I would never spend $200 onjeans,” she said. She’s seen a differ-ence in how people react to her atwork. “I go to these broker openhouses, and people come up to me tointroduce themselves—they want toknow who I am.”

Some habits, however, are impossi-ble to break. “It still has to be on sale,”she said firmly. “I will not pay fullprice. It’s just against every moleculein my being.” v

Boutique of the Week

M arky Bielat trained as an accountant in hernative Czech Republic because her mother, afashion designer, thought she should have astable job. But last year, with the help of her

uncle (a distributor of luxury shoes), she started a home-based business specializing in high-end Spanish andItalian shoe lines like Baldinini, Kalliste, and Pura Lopez—

hard to find in the U.S. but big newsabroad. Last month she opened atiny European-style shop in therather nonexclusive North Center

neighborhood. It’s not just the location that puts Marky inthe “destination shopping” category: at prices of $250 to$1,300, these are shoes to build an outfit around. Bielat

Marky

Marky3919 N. Lincoln773-248-1500

gets them specially made by the designers, tweaking aheel here and a strap there to suit Americans’ more casu-al tastes, and she orders just six pairs in each style toguarantee that her customers won’t see their expensivenew shoes coming and going. Bielat says she tries to focuson classic elements rather than trends, but for every pairof muted-pastel suede mules there’s a heel with a hotrhinestone cuff or downtown-cool boots with built-in legwarmers. She also carries handbags by local “lifestyledesigner” Mark Gill, which run about $1,000. BecauseBielat prefers to focus on one well-heeled customer at atime, Marky is open by appointment, but if she’s not occu-pied she’ll take walk-ins Tuesday through Saturday 11 to 6and Sunday 12 to 5. —Heather Kenny

Marky Bielat

MIR

EYA

ACI

ERTO

continued from page 14

Suzannah Martin, right, with friends Susan Hugebeck and Amy Wilde

A. J

ACKS

ON

CHICAGO READER | FEBRUARY 3, 2006 | SECTION ONE 17