Sometimes I have to get away from the feathers and rhinestones. My ideal holiday involves sun on my body and sand beneath my stiletto-less feet. My last total switch-off trip was to Tobago, which was stunning. The only downside was that, as in much of America, topless sunbathing is forbidden.

For professional reasons, I can’t allow myself to get tan lines, which means I have to cover up or find a totally secluded spot. In America, they refer to going topless as “European-style bathing”, and I suppose they are right. I am happiest in places such as the south of France where it is more or less de rigueur to take your top off, and the body is regarded in a more healthy and less obsessive way than in America.

When I’m working in Europe, I often fly out on the day of the show with heated rollers in my hair, which can cause problems with security. They always set the metal detector off and, as I’m not wearing them in my passport shot, the officials like to spend some time deciding if it is actually me or not.

Then there are the feathers, which, as they are animal products, have to have their own documents detailing their country of origin. My giant telephone and rocking horse are sent on ahead of me, and I’m always nervous that they won’t turn up, even though a 6ft glittery telephone would be pretty hard to lose.

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My Hols: Anastacia

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• Frequent flyer: Erin O'Connor

BACKGROUND

• My hols: Phil Daniels

• My hols: Roger Moore

• My hols: David Mitchell

• My hols: Tracey Emin

• My hols: Colin Firth

BACKGROUND

• My hols: Ricky Gervais

• My hols: Sam Robards

• My hols: Jimmy Carr

• My hols: Johnny Vegas

• My hols: Moby

My grandfather is Russian and I have a great affinity for eastern Europe. I love the architecture of cities such as Kiev and Budapest: it’s so solid, imposing and loaded with iconography. The churches and palaces drip with gold and jewels like nowhere on earth. Perhaps my ancestry accounts for my attraction to all that glitters.

My parents saw holidays as an opportunity to drive across vast swathes of dull parts of northern Europe, and I don’t really remember anything about them other than feeling sick. Then, one year, my mother decided to take me to Morocco, which was a real eye-opener. We went to Tangier and I found the whole place utterly exotic and completely inspirational.

I loved everything about it, apart from the piece of sheep’s brain I ate by accident, after mistaking it for cauliflower.

The architecture was amazing and the decorativeness of everything, from the simplest tea table to the vast mosques and palaces, completely blew me away. It was there that I saw my first belly-dancing performance; I was fascinated by the colourful costumes and the sensuality and theatre of it all.

It was utterly mesmerising. When I came back, I tracked down a place in London that taught Arabic dance and enrolled there, starting down the path to where I am now.

My favourite place in the world, though, has to be Las Vegas. The culture of no culture means you can take from it whatever you want, whether that’s simply soaking up the sun, gambling, taking in shows or heading out to the desert. I’ve just come back from a stint in Sin City, and while there, I took some time out for riding in the Nevada desert. I used to ride ponies as a child, but these days it’s usually just the giant rocking horse on stage. It was good to go back to the real thing.

I went with a company run by actual cowboys, and rode some spectacular trails along a canyon rim overlooking the mountains. The highlight was a ride we made at sunset, when the whole canyon area glowed red and the mountains were silhouetted against the sky. Back in camp, we had a barbecue under the stars, grilled marshmallows and sang songs around the campfire. From the summit, you could see the glittering lights of Vegas, but it felt as if we were a million miles away.

Being in among those lights is great fun too, of course. I love the glitz. There are many amazing places in the world, but if it were a case of one last party, Vegas would be the place. For a showgirl, it feels like coming home.

Immodesty Blaize talked to Lizzie Enfield

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