I am Eva. Ash-blonde hair to the shoulders, always in a tight high ponytail, grey-steel eyes, an athlete's tan, a defined jawline, visible abs. I am a functional body, not a decorative one: no lip filler, no breast work, everything on me is natural. A minimalist linear tattoo on my left forearm. My speciality is athletic pole with acrobatics and boxing-fitness stylisations. I do flag and static V — a level requiring real core strength. My signature look — boxer: red shorts with white trim, gloves, championship belt, white heel boots and a mouth guard in my teeth. Perfect for sports-themed bachelor parties, fitness venues, industrial lofts.
My stage: strength that reads as art
I am the catalogue's athlete — in the literal sense: acrobatic pole at competition level, the flag and the static V, figures that demand core strength built over years. My body is functional, not decorative — everything you see works, and everything that works shows. My show is a hybrid: athletics becoming dance, boxing becoming flirtation, and strength that turns soft at exactly the right moment. The crowd comes for a show — and gets sport at a level people buy tickets for.
The show in English — my other side
The detail that made me the standing pick of international evenings: I run an entire show in fluent English — hosting, jokes, improvisation, crowd games, all of it. Guests from abroad, tech evenings full of relocated engineers, a bachelor party for a groom whose mother tongue is English — with me nobody feels like a tourist at his own party. The correspondence can run in English from the first message, and the team flags me automatically the moment the word "international" appears. And for those asking where the English comes from: years of competitions abroad, foreign coaches and gyms where the only shared language was English — a language learned on the floor, not in a classroom, stays forever.
My characters
The boxer — the crown character: red trunks with white trim, gloves, a championship belt, and an entrance built like a walk to the ring — an announcement, a bell, and a fight nobody predicted. The personal trainer — an "intro workout" that starts in complete professional seriousness and ends very far from it; not to be confused with Maya's trainer — hers is group and funny, mine is one-on-one and dangerous. The sportswoman — the stadium edition: medals, pennants, and a crowd that becomes a stand. The full wardrobe — on the costume page; with me every character arrives with real fitness behind it.
Where I am strongest
Industrial lofts with high ceilings — the natural home of my acrobatics; private gyms and sports venues closed for an event — a double home ground; and bachelor parties of sporty crews who recognise level when they see it. Geographically I am requested in the Tel Aviv of the lofts and in Anglo Raanana — the English-speaking crowd there finally feels spoken to. A pole? Wonderful if there is one, but not required: my flag works on a solid doorframe too, and that is exactly when the room stops breathing.
One moment from the field
A bachelor party in Raanana, a groom from London, half the crew Israeli and half flown in specially. I entered as the boxer and announced in English an "official weigh-in before the fight" — weighed the groom, took his pulse, noted it on a board. The Brits laughed from the first minute; the Israelis joined when they realised I switch languages mid-sentence. At the end the London best man said: "I have seen shows on three continents — this is the first time the show saw me." For that sentence it is worth keeping the English sharp.
How I prepare
Like for a competition, because that is what it is: a full half-hour warm-up — shoulders, core, wrists; without a warm-up there is no flag, and with half a warm-up there is no safe flag. Then the gear check: the gloves, the belt, the mouth guard — yes, it is real, and yes, it is part of the character. No coffee before a show and no food for two hours — the body works clean. And at your place I check one thing first: what in the room is solid. A doorframe, a beam, a wall — my acrobatics needs one anchor, and it will find it.
My playlist
Heavy beats, aggressive electro, gym-floor hip-hop — music that lifts weights with me. The boxer entrance has a fixed opener: the same track real champions walk in to, and whoever recognises it already knows things are about to get interesting. At international events I weave in British and American classics — songs that make the guests from abroad feel the evening speaks their musical language too.
Who I am not the right choice for
Whoever seeks softness, feathers and velvet slowness — not with me: I am sharp, fast and strong, and the catalogue holds wonderful artists exactly for velvet. Also an evening that is all sitting around a table with no free metre — my acrobatics needs space, and I say so in advance rather than squeeze. But if your evening wants ring energy, real athletic level — or simply a show that speaks English like a mother tongue — I am the address, and there is no second.
Five small facts about me
My flag holds for twelve seconds — measured, documented, and on its way to fifteen. The linear tattoo on my forearm is the line of my first running track — a keepsake from a previous life in athletics. My mouth guard is blue, and I keep three spares. I am the only one in the catalogue who brings a personal towel to every show — athlete is not a character, it is a nature. And I dream in English — that is how you know a language is truly yours.
An evening with me — step by step
19:30 — full warm-up: thirty minutes, no shortcuts. 21:00 — departure with heavy beats. 21:45 — "I'm here" — in whichever language the evening speaks. 21:55 — room scan: an anchor for the acrobatics, space, crowd. 22:00 — the bell, and the ring opens. An hour of strength, acrobatics, crowd games in two languages, and a finale on the flag no phone misses. 23:05 — a champion's bow, and I am on my way. What remains: clips that will be watched a million times, and guys trying the flag on the doorframe for two more weeks.
Frequently asked
Strength, acrobatics, English. Competition-level athletic pole, a boxer entrance — and a full show in the language your crowd needs.
Really: hosting, jokes, improvisation and crowd games — all in fluent English, and the correspondence can run in English from the first message.
Preferable but not required: my flag works on a solid doorframe, and the floor figures need nothing but space.
Hers is group and funny, mine is one-on-one and dangerous. Two characters, two shows — the team helps pick by the crew.
"Eva" with a date and a city — in Hebrew or English. An international evening? Write "international", and I am already flagged.
