I am Lana. Chocolate hair braided into long box-braids to the waist. Dark brown eyes, bronze skin, sculpted cheekbones. A small geometric tattoo on the wrist, a gold stud in the left nostril, gold chains and large hoop earrings. My territory is urban hip-hop. I grew up on this music, and my striptease is hip-hop choreography with an erotic layer. I do technical twerk — muscle isolation control at four speeds. My signature look — bad girl hip-hop dancer: BAD GIRL print crop top, micro-shorts unfastened at the front, gold chains, backwards baseball cap, white heel boots. Perfect for warehouse-club events, urban parties, graffiti lofts.
My stage: a club that walks into your house
I am a club dancer by nature: urban hip-hop, sharp choreography, and technical twerk — muscle isolation control at four speeds, which sounds like a trick and looks like sport. I grew up on this music, and I did not reach it through classes but through club floors. Anyone who has seen a real club act understands the difference: this is not "dancing to a song", it is a whole body language speaking exactly on the beat.
What a show with me looks like
A DJ set in a single body: an entrance on a heavy beat, three or four choreographies built around drops, and technical twerk in the centrepiece — the moment the room realises this is technique, not a gimmick. I move a crowd: the guest of honour ends up inside the choreography himself — a short sequence I teach him in thirty seconds, and everyone films it. The finale lands on the biggest drop of the set. The full skeleton of the hour — on the solo page; with me it runs at club tempo.
My characters
The bad girl — the crown character: a crop top, micro-shorts, gold chains and a backwards cap; music-video energy, measured cheek, and a smile that gives away that all of it is play. The street dancer — the choreographic edition: fewer props, more movement, for those who came for the dancing. The night's security — a club-security entrance with a "guest list check" that collapses into a beat. The full wardrobe — on the costume page; with me every character gets choreography, not just a costume.
The duet with Shira
The pair nobody guesses: Shira — the royal slow one, I — the club force. She freezes the room, I ignite it, and the transitions between us are the whole magic. The two officers from the Rishon loft — that is us: the exact same character at two opposite tempos, and a moment where the crowd realises it is watching two dialects of one genre. The craft of pair work — on the duo page.
Where I am strongest
Lofts and converted warehouses — my natural home; graffiti parties, industrial spaces, and anywhere the sound is loud and the ceiling is high. Geographically: the lofts of Rishon LeZion are a true home ground, and the industrial areas of Ramla and Lod offer exactly the spaces my genre loves. My crowd: young crews, big bachelor parties, and twenty-five to thirty-five birthdays that want a party, not a quiet evening.
One moment from the field
A loft in Rishon, a bachelor party of forty, serious sound. I entered as security with a list in hand and announced the event was being shut down over a noise complaint — twenty seconds of genuine panic, someone had already started apologising — and then the beat dropped and the list flew into the air. After the show the groom tried to repeat the choreography I had taught him, fell onto the sofa, and everyone filmed that instead of the show. I still get that clip on WhatsApp to this day.
How I prepare
Choreography is training: I run the full set twice the day before, and warm up for forty minutes before the entrance — technical twerk without a warm-up is an injury, not a show. The sound check is critical with me: I send a bass file in advance, and if your speaker cannot hold it, I bring mine, because half the show is the drop. The braids take two hours, but only every second week. And on the way — the set at full volume, and yes, I dance at red lights.
My playlist
American hip-hop, trap, reggaeton, and afrobeats that lift any room — music I refresh every two weeks, because what runs in the clubs today runs with me tomorrow. Does the crew have an anthem? A song everyone shouts? Send it ahead — I place it at the hottest moment and you get the explosion of the evening. And for mixed evenings I keep a classics set: nineties hip-hop the parents know too, and suddenly they are dancing.
Who I am not the right choice for
A quiet elegant evening, a milestone lounge, a small living room with thin-walled neighbours — not my arena, and I say it straight: the catalogue holds artists born exactly for those evenings, and the team will point you to them. I am built for volume, space and a crowd that came to dance. Give me good sound and ten square metres — and I give you a party that carries on an hour after I leave.
Five small facts about me
My braids take two hours, and I spend them watching dance clips — work and entertainment at once. I count twerk in four speeds, and that is not a metaphor: each speed has its own name in my head. My backwards cap has been the same cap for five years and I refuse to replace it. I learned hip-hop in competitions before I reached this stage, and the silver medal still hangs at home. And my favourite thing in the world: a room that starts dancing with me without being asked.
An evening with me — step by step
18:00 — a full run of the set, for the second time. 20:30 — a bass test file lands in your chat. 21:15 — departure, playlist at full volume. 21:45 — "I am here", a quiet entrance — the last quiet of the evening. 22:00 — the first beat, and the loft becomes a club. An hour of choreography, technical twerk, the guest of honour learning a sequence, and a finale on the big drop. 23:05 — I leave, the playlist stays open on your speaker, and the party carries on without me. That is how it is supposed to end.
Frequently asked
Hip-hop, beat, twerk. A real club act — choreography built around drops and technical twerk at four speeds.
Muscle isolation control at four different speeds — technique learned over years, not a trick. The centrepiece of the show is where the difference shows.
Sound that can hold the bass — I send a test file in advance — and ten free square metres. If the speaker is weak, I bring my own.
The same character at two opposite tempos: she freezes the room, I ignite it. The two officers from the Rishon loft — that is us.
"Lana" with a date and a city on WhatsApp. Does the crew have an anthem? Send it ahead and I place it at the hottest moment.
