Adella Gutman

What my show actually looks like

I am thirty three, and I put that into the work as capital rather than something to hide. My territory is premium shows and fetish glam, and both rest on the same thing: control of tempo.

My central piece is a slow pull of a long latex glove that runs four minutes. Four minutes is a very long time when nothing else is happening, and that is the point: by the end of them nobody in the room is breathing properly.

I work with real latex rather than a fabric imitation. It changes how it looks, how it sounds and how long it takes to put on, and I explain that further down the page because it is the detail that most affects your evening.

Who I suit

A birthday for a man in his forties or fifties, a couples evening, a hotel suite. Places with time and nobody rushing.

A small company event in the version without latex — I have a corset and evening gown line that works in the same aesthetic without the sharp edge.

Where I fit less: a big loud group, and any evening with half an hour before moving on. With me half an hour wastes what I can actually do.

Where it works

A room with an armchair, very low light and a clean floor. I do not need space — two metres and decent furniture is enough, which makes me easy to book despite the complicated costume.

North Tel Aviv and Herzliya carry most of my diary, the centre comes after them; hotel suites suit this style best, and a cabin evening is always welcome.

What I do not do

I am not a domme. I create an image of power and slowness, which is a performance rather than a service. No session, no pain, no restraint, nothing beyond the show. I write that in the first message to everyone, not only to people who sound suspect.

Nobody touches the latex. It tears on a fingernail, and one piece costs more than two shows.

Cameras stay in pockets and hands wait to be invited. The set has a hard ending, and nothing continues past it.

How I got into this

I started at twenty four, relatively late. Before that I worked in event management, which sounds distant and is exactly what gave me the head for this work — I can read a room before I have walked into it.

The latex arrived in my third year and by accident. I was booked for a shoot for a shop that sells it, and that day I understood the material does half the work for me: it pulls eyes before I have started moving.

Nine years in the work. Fewer evenings than the younger dancers, not for lack of demand but because you cannot do a show like this four times a week and expect it to stay sharp.

What I bring and what I need from you

Latex or a corset depending on what you picked, opera gloves, boots, shoes and the music — trip-hop, dark jazz, slow electronica.

From you: a side room for twenty minutes. Not politeness but necessity — latex does not go on quickly, and rushing me makes the show worse.

And very low light. One side lamp, ceiling light off. Under hard white light latex reads as a shop-bought costume, and in warm light it reads as what it is.

Mistakes people make when they book me

Reading the latex as a menu. It is a costume, not an offer. I make that clear before I confirm, and if someone keeps testing the line, I close the set and go.

Not clearing a room to change in. Twenty minutes is the minimum, and in a corner behind a door I cannot get into latex at all.

Full lighting. It kills the material and the show together.

Asking to cut it to half an hour. Then I drop the piece you booked me for. Better to take someone who works fast.

What I ask before I confirm

Whether there is a side room. The first question, and with me it is a blocker. Without one I arrive in a corset rather than latex, which is a different show.

How dark it can get. Latex feeds on one strong side light; a lit ceiling flattens it into a raincoat.

Who is in the room and how much time there is. I need an audience able to watch four minutes straight, and a full hour rather than half.

What you are expecting. I put the question plainly in the chat, because with my aesthetic the wrong assumption ruins the night for everyone.

What happens between booking and the door

After we agree you get the hour, a request for a side room, one about lighting, and a sentence on what the show includes and what it does not.

On the day I build in spare time and come in an ordinary long coat: a woman in latex crossing your parking lot is exactly the attention a discreet evening does not need.

Twenty minutes behind a closed door and I step out already in character; that is where the show starts. Afterwards it runs in reverse — ordinary clothes, the envelope, and I am gone without a scene.

What is included and what is not

The price is one line: the full set, the latex wardrobe, my own music and the drive anywhere in the metro area. There is no extra for the costume and none for “service”.

Not included: lighting and a speaker. And if the latex tears because somebody pulled it, that does cost, and I say so in advance so it is not a surprise. It is rare, and when it happens it is expensive.

Why latex behaves differently from any other material

This is not a stylistic whim, and it is worth understanding before booking me, because half my requests come from it.

Latex works on reflection. It does not receive light, it returns it, which is why it looks extraordinary under one side lamp and like cheap plastic under a ceiling light. That is why I insist on the lighting, and it is the one request I repeat twice.

It also does not go on like clothing. It needs powder or silicone, it needs time, and any hurried movement tears it. Twenty minutes in a side room is not indulgence, it is exactly how long it takes, and anyone who did not clear a room gets the corset show instead.

And it has a quality nobody thinks about: it makes sound. Slow movement in latex is audible, and that is part of the effect — another reason a television left on in the background ruins my show more than it would another dancer’s.

When somebody else suits you better

If the evening is short, loud or young, not me. I would suggest Lana Hoffman for urban energy or Yonit Dror for a large group.

And if you liked the line but want a different register, Ester Kaplan works dark noir, and Michal Rosen does the slow tempo without the latex edge.

Booking me

Who the evening is for, when, where, how many people — and whether a side room with a door exists. That last one I never skip; without it the latex simply cannot go on.

Standard price, no deposit. The whole gallery is here. If you are torn between the latex and the corset, describe the room and the audience and I will say which will look better.