On Saturday night we went out drinking and dancing. I needed to blow off some steam because I've been stressed at work lately. There's a girl there who's been bugging the shit out of me by being super condescending, like she talks to me like I'm retarded or something. I'm bothered because I don't know what her motivations for doing it are.
Anyway, we went to Bootie at the DNA to see MC Jelly Donut. One drink after we got there I got a text asking if I wanted to go-go dance at club Smut for fifty dollars. It was cool. My friend Trixxie Treat was friends with the promoter and she's the one that organized the dancer's. I was replacing someone who was sick that night. It 's a new monthly club, like electro/jungle/step. The only thing we had to do was go dance on the tiny dance floor to get the rest of the people to go dance. There was a steady crowd, and the music was good. Actually, it was the best music I've been paid to go-go dance to. It was at this bar at 6th and Market, Anu. It was pretty loud. My ears were ringing when I got home. It was pretty fun hanging out with other Lusties, not at Chez B for a change.
So now I'm going to work tonight. I'll be dancing at the Lusty from 7-11pm.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I miss dancing
There was a Black Widows night on the 31st, but I didn't feel up to it for a variety of reasons. I'm kind of regretting it now, though. I've been reading blogs by other strippers lately and for better or for worse, it's gotten me feeling nostalgic for my old glory days.
I've just been working for minimum wage for way too long. It's really really getting to me. I've been an assistant hairstylist for two years and have not yet finished either a cut or color program. I most likely have at least another year to go before I can become a commissioned stylist and stop having to clean up after other people and being subservient to them. And that's if I don't get fired first for hating it.
I guess if I was eighteen it wouldn't be so bad. I would have my whole adult life to learn my trade and build up my clientele and be making six figures by age thirty. But instead I spent my twenties in the strip club, making tons of cash every night and investing none of it save what I invested in my two deadbeat exes. I really thought I got out in time, too: I started beauty school at age 28, and got my cosmetology license right after I turned thirty. Now I'm close to thirty-three and I spend most of my time doing janitorial work. I worry about my future, and the present is getting a bit unbearable after the life I've experienced.
I miss my old life sometimes. I miss all the cash. I miss knowing that even if I only made a hundred dollars, I could always go back in the next night and maybe make three hundred more. I loved sleeping in every day, and getting pedicures and shopping for clothes. I miss being able to take a vacation whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted, as long as I had money for. I miss dancing on stage every night to any music I chose. I miss the performance. I miss making people fall in love with me just by staring into their eyes. I miss getting exercise every night while getting paid for it. I miss having tons of hot friends to go out with and do double dances with and hustle men with and make each other money. Sometimes I miss the nights of getting drunk and going out and having crazy adventures into the wee morning hours, staying out as long as we wanted, with the cash to finance all of it. With enough money, anything is possible.
I get some of this at the Lusty Lady, but it's not the same. I think I'm just missing my twice-monthly fix I always get from Black Widows and Chez Badunkadunk. It's been a couple of months since they lost the Cat Club space, which was as close to perfect as I've seen so far. Chez B has a new venue they will use on the 26th for a special pride weekend show, Julie's Supper Club. I won't be able to go, though because I'm out of town that weekend.
I didn't do Black Widows because I was up early that day and was tired from my salon job, as I always am on Saturdays. Also I'm not so sure about the new venue for BW. It's at Fat City, which I remember to be a rather drafty and rickity club more suited to shows than clubs, especially strip clubs. In other words not necessarily where I want to be wobbling around drunk in six inch stilettos, trying to fend off gropes in a lap dance. Also there wasn't supposed to bemuch of a dressing room, more of a manager's office. This was the first night they used the place, so there were probably some kinks that still need smoothing. I'm going to see what the girls who went have to say about it and maybe if it wasn't too bad I'll go next time. If my friend Natalie (who runs it) isn't mad at me for not showing up, that is.
So I probably won't be doing anything extracurricular until July now. But you will still be able to watch me dance at the Lusty Lady on Mondays and Fridays. I usually do doubles on Fridays, either from 11-7 or 3-11. I'll let everyone know next time I do an outside performance.
I've just been working for minimum wage for way too long. It's really really getting to me. I've been an assistant hairstylist for two years and have not yet finished either a cut or color program. I most likely have at least another year to go before I can become a commissioned stylist and stop having to clean up after other people and being subservient to them. And that's if I don't get fired first for hating it.
I guess if I was eighteen it wouldn't be so bad. I would have my whole adult life to learn my trade and build up my clientele and be making six figures by age thirty. But instead I spent my twenties in the strip club, making tons of cash every night and investing none of it save what I invested in my two deadbeat exes. I really thought I got out in time, too: I started beauty school at age 28, and got my cosmetology license right after I turned thirty. Now I'm close to thirty-three and I spend most of my time doing janitorial work. I worry about my future, and the present is getting a bit unbearable after the life I've experienced.
I miss my old life sometimes. I miss all the cash. I miss knowing that even if I only made a hundred dollars, I could always go back in the next night and maybe make three hundred more. I loved sleeping in every day, and getting pedicures and shopping for clothes. I miss being able to take a vacation whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted, as long as I had money for. I miss dancing on stage every night to any music I chose. I miss the performance. I miss making people fall in love with me just by staring into their eyes. I miss getting exercise every night while getting paid for it. I miss having tons of hot friends to go out with and do double dances with and hustle men with and make each other money. Sometimes I miss the nights of getting drunk and going out and having crazy adventures into the wee morning hours, staying out as long as we wanted, with the cash to finance all of it. With enough money, anything is possible.
I get some of this at the Lusty Lady, but it's not the same. I think I'm just missing my twice-monthly fix I always get from Black Widows and Chez Badunkadunk. It's been a couple of months since they lost the Cat Club space, which was as close to perfect as I've seen so far. Chez B has a new venue they will use on the 26th for a special pride weekend show, Julie's Supper Club. I won't be able to go, though because I'm out of town that weekend.
I didn't do Black Widows because I was up early that day and was tired from my salon job, as I always am on Saturdays. Also I'm not so sure about the new venue for BW. It's at Fat City, which I remember to be a rather drafty and rickity club more suited to shows than clubs, especially strip clubs. In other words not necessarily where I want to be wobbling around drunk in six inch stilettos, trying to fend off gropes in a lap dance. Also there wasn't supposed to bemuch of a dressing room, more of a manager's office. This was the first night they used the place, so there were probably some kinks that still need smoothing. I'm going to see what the girls who went have to say about it and maybe if it wasn't too bad I'll go next time. If my friend Natalie (who runs it) isn't mad at me for not showing up, that is.
So I probably won't be doing anything extracurricular until July now. But you will still be able to watch me dance at the Lusty Lady on Mondays and Fridays. I usually do doubles on Fridays, either from 11-7 or 3-11. I'll let everyone know next time I do an outside performance.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Auto Bio 4
Some of the girls I remember from Little Darlings, Lemon Grove, circa August /September 1999......
When I first got there the only girl who really talked to me was obviously the odd one out, the pathetic loner/loser. None of the other girls really talked to her, either. Her outfits were shabby and mismatched. She had bad skin and little makeup. Her hair was mousy-brown and messy. In retrospect I think she was probably doing "extras" to compete with all the other glossy, sexy and well put-together young girls that worked there. But at the time I was happy to have someone to talk to, someone who could give me some clue to the mysteries of it all. Because everything I thought I knew about stripping, strippers and strip clubs was turning out to be grossly inaccurate and/or inadequate. She taught me how to crawl on the floor of the stage, and gave me some hints on lapdancing. Since I was only there for two weeks, obviously I didn't get to spend too much time "bonding" with her (hell, I don't even remember her name!!), but I'll always remember how she looked and how everyone else ostracized her. In the strip club pecking order I the new girl was lowest, but she was only slightly above me. Had I stayed there any longer being associated with her might have permanently endangered my place in the social order and it was something I tried to avoid every time I became "new girl" in other clubs down the road.
Another girl I worked with there was truly unsettling in her mannerisms and personality. She was a lite skinned black girl with kind of a dog-ish face and large, drooping tits. Her hair was always pulled back tight and she didn't wear much makeup. She had a couple of kids at home. She never smiled and walked around with a stoned, thuggish face all the time. She danced to the gangsterist music she could get away with and when she did her theme set, as we were all required to do, she wore panties and a security guard shirt and danced to thugged out gangster rap about doing time. At first she scared the shit out of me and I tried to avoid her but eventually we got to talking enough so that I gave her a ride home once or twice. When we did I tried to get as much info out of her as I could. I remember asking her how much she tipped the deejay and she responded somewhere along the lines of:
"I don't give him shit. He don't do nothin for me."
I didn't know what to say to that so I asked where else she had worked. She said she had also worked at Jolar, the local peep show that I later found out had a rep for being very seedy; a place for dancers that were too fat, ugly, old or pregnant to work anywhere else. Certainly it was in one of the shittiest areas with high crime rates. The idea of working in a peep show intrigued me ever since I was little and saw the Madonna video. I asked her if she had liked working there. She said no. Why not?
"Cuz I don't like sittin' in a damn box for eight hours!"
Years later, when I moved back to San Diego after five years in San Francisco she was working at the Body Shop with me. She looked a lot better than I remembered. Same vacant expression, but now she half-smiled more often. More like a smirk really. I worked at the Body Shop for two years so I had more time to hang out with her. She was still ghetto as hell, but we got along well enough, most of the time. There was another black girl there she hung out with too. Sometimes if I was getting more dances than them they would make racist comments, i.e.
"Damn, Rocketgirl, maybe I should bleach my skin so I can make some money too", etc.
Anyway, this girl ended up getting fired from the Body Shop by proving just how psycho she was. She had a feud with another friend of mine over territory in the dressing room or some bullshit. It escalated to the point that she brought mice guts to work and put them in my friend's bag. She got the mice guts from her sons, who had pet snakes. That was the last I saw of her. My other friend, the victim, kept working there after I left. She was a veteran and wasn't going anywhere, even though the incident understandably traumatized her.
The one thing that struck me about Little Darlings was how different it was from Nitelife. It was the general difference between all topless and nude clubs. The girls at LD were younger on average; at nude clubs (in CA anyway) girls only have to be eighteen to dance. The customers only have to be eighteen as well, although I didn't notice the crowd being that much younger, in general. That is probably because I usually worked during the day. The girls at LD also had newer and sexier costumes than the girls at Nitelife.
Because Nitelife was an independent, alcohol-serving bar, they were under much greater scrutiny from the police and under more stringent laws and ordinances being in a residential area compared to LD, a no-alcohol club in a different city, in an industrial area. At Nitelife we had to wear full length opaque nude colored tights under regulation "t-bar" thong panties. Anytime we took anything off on stage we had to be six feet away from any of the guys. Lap dances were out in the open and had a six inch rule.
At Little Darlings we had semi-private booths. Instead of 80s style thongs the girls wore barely-there g-strings; literally fabric cut into a tiny triangle attached by string-width fabric. Our legs were bare. You can't find these panties at lingerie stores; you have to go to special stripper-ware stores. I had never seen such outfits before, I hadn't known they existed.
Nitelife had older dancers, seasoned veterans with regulars. They had big hair and played heavy metal on stage. One of the dancers was so old her 21 year old daughter worked there too, as a cocktail waitress.
I remember at Little Darlings seeing young, slender, smooth skinned waifs in gauzy, translucent scanty garments floating around with the aloofness and arrogance of fashion models. It was as if they had stepped right out of the pages of Perfect Ten magazine or something. They danced more gracefully on stage and to techno or R&B music. I was in awe of the spectacle before me, and inspired to achieve the same kind of seemingly effortless sex appeal.
It's a good thing I ended up leaving for San Fran when I did because I was starting to have some problems there. The problem was that my no-good boyfriend (who I would have done anything for) had no job and no place to go while I was working. Most strip clubs, I came to learn, have no-boyfriend policies, in order to prevent big dramatic jealous scenes and fights with customers. They didn't want him hanging out in the parking lot either, and he couldn't really wander around Lemon Grove because it was a racist, redneck town and he's black. He also couldn't drive, and couldn't take public transportation because it stopped running at midnight and I needed him to be there as "protection" when I got off work to walk me twenty feet to my car. Well, this was how I rationalized things at the time anyway. So instead of quitting I asked to be "transferred' to Deja Vu San Francisco, and they had no problem with that. I don't think it would have been a problem to get hired there, but it gave me piece of mind.
Moving to San Francisco, taught me more about stripping, hustling, the sex industry and the nature of men than any other club I'd worked at yet.
In truth, Rocketgirl had not yet begun to fight!!!
To be continued.....
When I first got there the only girl who really talked to me was obviously the odd one out, the pathetic loner/loser. None of the other girls really talked to her, either. Her outfits were shabby and mismatched. She had bad skin and little makeup. Her hair was mousy-brown and messy. In retrospect I think she was probably doing "extras" to compete with all the other glossy, sexy and well put-together young girls that worked there. But at the time I was happy to have someone to talk to, someone who could give me some clue to the mysteries of it all. Because everything I thought I knew about stripping, strippers and strip clubs was turning out to be grossly inaccurate and/or inadequate. She taught me how to crawl on the floor of the stage, and gave me some hints on lapdancing. Since I was only there for two weeks, obviously I didn't get to spend too much time "bonding" with her (hell, I don't even remember her name!!), but I'll always remember how she looked and how everyone else ostracized her. In the strip club pecking order I the new girl was lowest, but she was only slightly above me. Had I stayed there any longer being associated with her might have permanently endangered my place in the social order and it was something I tried to avoid every time I became "new girl" in other clubs down the road.
Another girl I worked with there was truly unsettling in her mannerisms and personality. She was a lite skinned black girl with kind of a dog-ish face and large, drooping tits. Her hair was always pulled back tight and she didn't wear much makeup. She had a couple of kids at home. She never smiled and walked around with a stoned, thuggish face all the time. She danced to the gangsterist music she could get away with and when she did her theme set, as we were all required to do, she wore panties and a security guard shirt and danced to thugged out gangster rap about doing time. At first she scared the shit out of me and I tried to avoid her but eventually we got to talking enough so that I gave her a ride home once or twice. When we did I tried to get as much info out of her as I could. I remember asking her how much she tipped the deejay and she responded somewhere along the lines of:
"I don't give him shit. He don't do nothin for me."
I didn't know what to say to that so I asked where else she had worked. She said she had also worked at Jolar, the local peep show that I later found out had a rep for being very seedy; a place for dancers that were too fat, ugly, old or pregnant to work anywhere else. Certainly it was in one of the shittiest areas with high crime rates. The idea of working in a peep show intrigued me ever since I was little and saw the Madonna video. I asked her if she had liked working there. She said no. Why not?
"Cuz I don't like sittin' in a damn box for eight hours!"
Years later, when I moved back to San Diego after five years in San Francisco she was working at the Body Shop with me. She looked a lot better than I remembered. Same vacant expression, but now she half-smiled more often. More like a smirk really. I worked at the Body Shop for two years so I had more time to hang out with her. She was still ghetto as hell, but we got along well enough, most of the time. There was another black girl there she hung out with too. Sometimes if I was getting more dances than them they would make racist comments, i.e.
"Damn, Rocketgirl, maybe I should bleach my skin so I can make some money too", etc.
Anyway, this girl ended up getting fired from the Body Shop by proving just how psycho she was. She had a feud with another friend of mine over territory in the dressing room or some bullshit. It escalated to the point that she brought mice guts to work and put them in my friend's bag. She got the mice guts from her sons, who had pet snakes. That was the last I saw of her. My other friend, the victim, kept working there after I left. She was a veteran and wasn't going anywhere, even though the incident understandably traumatized her.
The one thing that struck me about Little Darlings was how different it was from Nitelife. It was the general difference between all topless and nude clubs. The girls at LD were younger on average; at nude clubs (in CA anyway) girls only have to be eighteen to dance. The customers only have to be eighteen as well, although I didn't notice the crowd being that much younger, in general. That is probably because I usually worked during the day. The girls at LD also had newer and sexier costumes than the girls at Nitelife.
Because Nitelife was an independent, alcohol-serving bar, they were under much greater scrutiny from the police and under more stringent laws and ordinances being in a residential area compared to LD, a no-alcohol club in a different city, in an industrial area. At Nitelife we had to wear full length opaque nude colored tights under regulation "t-bar" thong panties. Anytime we took anything off on stage we had to be six feet away from any of the guys. Lap dances were out in the open and had a six inch rule.
At Little Darlings we had semi-private booths. Instead of 80s style thongs the girls wore barely-there g-strings; literally fabric cut into a tiny triangle attached by string-width fabric. Our legs were bare. You can't find these panties at lingerie stores; you have to go to special stripper-ware stores. I had never seen such outfits before, I hadn't known they existed.
Nitelife had older dancers, seasoned veterans with regulars. They had big hair and played heavy metal on stage. One of the dancers was so old her 21 year old daughter worked there too, as a cocktail waitress.
I remember at Little Darlings seeing young, slender, smooth skinned waifs in gauzy, translucent scanty garments floating around with the aloofness and arrogance of fashion models. It was as if they had stepped right out of the pages of Perfect Ten magazine or something. They danced more gracefully on stage and to techno or R&B music. I was in awe of the spectacle before me, and inspired to achieve the same kind of seemingly effortless sex appeal.
It's a good thing I ended up leaving for San Fran when I did because I was starting to have some problems there. The problem was that my no-good boyfriend (who I would have done anything for) had no job and no place to go while I was working. Most strip clubs, I came to learn, have no-boyfriend policies, in order to prevent big dramatic jealous scenes and fights with customers. They didn't want him hanging out in the parking lot either, and he couldn't really wander around Lemon Grove because it was a racist, redneck town and he's black. He also couldn't drive, and couldn't take public transportation because it stopped running at midnight and I needed him to be there as "protection" when I got off work to walk me twenty feet to my car. Well, this was how I rationalized things at the time anyway. So instead of quitting I asked to be "transferred' to Deja Vu San Francisco, and they had no problem with that. I don't think it would have been a problem to get hired there, but it gave me piece of mind.
Moving to San Francisco, taught me more about stripping, hustling, the sex industry and the nature of men than any other club I'd worked at yet.
In truth, Rocketgirl had not yet begun to fight!!!
To be continued.....
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Stripper Bag
Your stripper bag is your survival kit to help you get through the night without having to beg or borrow shit from any of the other girls. This is especially helpful when you're new, because begging and borrowing is not a good way to make friends. It's better to show how incredibly self-sufficient you are, and bonus points for being able to supply a baby wipe for someone else who's come unprepared. Here is a list of supplies I keep in my stripper bag, and some of their uses:
1. Baby wipes- these are good for wiping yourself off if you are sweaty, if you just had to get close to a gross guy, if you fucked up putting on your makeup, but especially are crucial in a nude club, if you just went to the bathroom and have shredded toilet paper all over your area and have to go on stage. Always check your area before going on stage or doing a nude dance, and baby-wipe if needed.
2. Costumes- buying "costumes", or "outfits" is one of the funnest things about being a stripper. You may try on or buy hundreds of outfits, but eventually your favorites, the ones you look the best in, will rise to the top. In time you will find out what looks best on you. When I first started I thought I should wear lots of silver and shiny stuff to keep with the outer space-rocketgirl theme, but I soon found out it wasn't very flattering. Usually girls find black, red and white to be the most flattering colors, although if you have a nice, darker skin tone bright floral patterns look nice. Sometimes costume-makers bring their wares into the club and you can try on stuff in the black-light and everything.
You should bring three or more g-strings, 1-2 booty shorts, at least one black bikini top, maybe a couple bras, 1-2 dresses, socks or stockings, or any other matched outfits you fancy.
3. Shoes- I usually wear stilettos over boots, and if I wear boots I wear ankle boots. This is because I feel my legs are among my better assets and feel it isn't cost-effective to cover them up. That being said, climbing a pole is a million times easier wearing boots at least knee-high. Always make sure you have at least two pairs of boots or shoes; if you only bring one, they will break. If you bring boots don't forget the socks.
4. Makeup- The makeup I bring consists of : a compact of pressed powder, lipstick, eyeshadows, liquid eyeliner, and mascara. I use my lipstick as blush. Other girls also like to wear fake eyelashes. Don't ever ask anyone to borrow their makeup, especially powder and lipstick. Don't feel you have to let anyone borrow yours either.
5. Hair product- when I use a curling iron I always need hairspray, or the curls fall.
6. Hair tools- by which I mean curling or flat irons.
7. Body spray- you will be spraying this on yourself a million times every night, so don't bother getting anything expensive. The guys won't spend more money on you because you are wearing expensive perfume, not enough to make a difference anyway. My theory is that they kind of like the cheapness of the perfume, it makes the whole experience more covert and adventurous and dirty and sexy. Scent, as you will come to find out, is a very powerful motivator. Stick your heavily scented cleavage in a guy's face and ask for that dance again. See what happens.
Some traditional stripper body spray scents are: cotton candy, vanilla, "white musk", jasmine (my fave), or gardenia. The first two are thought to be somewhat "barely legal" scents, which can work for you if that's the look you're going for.
8. Fombs, brushes
9. Hand fan- this isn't exactly "typical" stripper gear. In fact, in nine years I've only seen a couple of other girls with one. But let me tell you those $3 miracles made of paper, fabric and wood have saved my looks and my night so many times in the club, they were worth every little penny. I like to really get a workout on stage, and as we know the best time to ask for a lapdance is right after a good stage set. Fanning yourself while chatting up customers looks coy and mysterious. It adds interest while keeping you cool and dry. The perfect accessory!
10. Stripper purse- Take all the cash and valuable documents out of your regular purse, roll them up and rubber band them, and then stick them in your clutch-sized stripper purse. Now you won't have to worry about getting your money stolen, and the rest of your money you make tonight will be safe by your side all night long and you won't have to worry about the club, some dumb bitch or some drunk customer ripping you off as long as you keep your stripper purse glued to your side or at least in eyeshot all night long.
11. Altoids- For talking to customers.
12. Robe, slippers- Actually these aren't in my stripper bag, but you might like to wear them on breaks or while getting ready. So, optional.
13. Deodorant- If you're getting sweaty on stage and are concerned with "freshness"
14. Towel- some clubs have showers, but they usually don't provide towels. Also optional. ..Actually, you can also bring a hand-towel to sit on so you don't have to sit on your bare ass on the chairs in the dressing room. When you shave that area you become vulnerable to red bumps from exposure, so the towel helps protect from that.
15. Hand sanitizer- keep clean, because you are in constant contact with the general public. Put it everywhere, but especially your hands, neck and between your legs. It cools you down and helps prevent razor bumps.
I like either duffel bags or carry-on size roller bags. Roller bags are more obviously stripperish , but are good if you drive a car.
I have a locker but I still bring a stripper bag to and from work. I have a huge selection of costumes and have to pick and choose each time before I go. I change costumes at least twice in each four hour shift. I'm almost neurotic about having way more costumes than I need. It's reassuring.
Think of your stripper bag as your arsenal. It contains all your war paint and powerful trappings of femininity that will make you the sexiest and most powerful dancer in the club!
1. Baby wipes- these are good for wiping yourself off if you are sweaty, if you just had to get close to a gross guy, if you fucked up putting on your makeup, but especially are crucial in a nude club, if you just went to the bathroom and have shredded toilet paper all over your area and have to go on stage. Always check your area before going on stage or doing a nude dance, and baby-wipe if needed.
2. Costumes- buying "costumes", or "outfits" is one of the funnest things about being a stripper. You may try on or buy hundreds of outfits, but eventually your favorites, the ones you look the best in, will rise to the top. In time you will find out what looks best on you. When I first started I thought I should wear lots of silver and shiny stuff to keep with the outer space-rocketgirl theme, but I soon found out it wasn't very flattering. Usually girls find black, red and white to be the most flattering colors, although if you have a nice, darker skin tone bright floral patterns look nice. Sometimes costume-makers bring their wares into the club and you can try on stuff in the black-light and everything.
You should bring three or more g-strings, 1-2 booty shorts, at least one black bikini top, maybe a couple bras, 1-2 dresses, socks or stockings, or any other matched outfits you fancy.
3. Shoes- I usually wear stilettos over boots, and if I wear boots I wear ankle boots. This is because I feel my legs are among my better assets and feel it isn't cost-effective to cover them up. That being said, climbing a pole is a million times easier wearing boots at least knee-high. Always make sure you have at least two pairs of boots or shoes; if you only bring one, they will break. If you bring boots don't forget the socks.
4. Makeup- The makeup I bring consists of : a compact of pressed powder, lipstick, eyeshadows, liquid eyeliner, and mascara. I use my lipstick as blush. Other girls also like to wear fake eyelashes. Don't ever ask anyone to borrow their makeup, especially powder and lipstick. Don't feel you have to let anyone borrow yours either.
5. Hair product- when I use a curling iron I always need hairspray, or the curls fall.
6. Hair tools- by which I mean curling or flat irons.
7. Body spray- you will be spraying this on yourself a million times every night, so don't bother getting anything expensive. The guys won't spend more money on you because you are wearing expensive perfume, not enough to make a difference anyway. My theory is that they kind of like the cheapness of the perfume, it makes the whole experience more covert and adventurous and dirty and sexy. Scent, as you will come to find out, is a very powerful motivator. Stick your heavily scented cleavage in a guy's face and ask for that dance again. See what happens.
Some traditional stripper body spray scents are: cotton candy, vanilla, "white musk", jasmine (my fave), or gardenia. The first two are thought to be somewhat "barely legal" scents, which can work for you if that's the look you're going for.
8. Fombs, brushes
9. Hand fan- this isn't exactly "typical" stripper gear. In fact, in nine years I've only seen a couple of other girls with one. But let me tell you those $3 miracles made of paper, fabric and wood have saved my looks and my night so many times in the club, they were worth every little penny. I like to really get a workout on stage, and as we know the best time to ask for a lapdance is right after a good stage set. Fanning yourself while chatting up customers looks coy and mysterious. It adds interest while keeping you cool and dry. The perfect accessory!
10. Stripper purse- Take all the cash and valuable documents out of your regular purse, roll them up and rubber band them, and then stick them in your clutch-sized stripper purse. Now you won't have to worry about getting your money stolen, and the rest of your money you make tonight will be safe by your side all night long and you won't have to worry about the club, some dumb bitch or some drunk customer ripping you off as long as you keep your stripper purse glued to your side or at least in eyeshot all night long.
11. Altoids- For talking to customers.
12. Robe, slippers- Actually these aren't in my stripper bag, but you might like to wear them on breaks or while getting ready. So, optional.
13. Deodorant- If you're getting sweaty on stage and are concerned with "freshness"
14. Towel- some clubs have showers, but they usually don't provide towels. Also optional. ..Actually, you can also bring a hand-towel to sit on so you don't have to sit on your bare ass on the chairs in the dressing room. When you shave that area you become vulnerable to red bumps from exposure, so the towel helps protect from that.
15. Hand sanitizer- keep clean, because you are in constant contact with the general public. Put it everywhere, but especially your hands, neck and between your legs. It cools you down and helps prevent razor bumps.
I like either duffel bags or carry-on size roller bags. Roller bags are more obviously stripperish , but are good if you drive a car.
I have a locker but I still bring a stripper bag to and from work. I have a huge selection of costumes and have to pick and choose each time before I go. I change costumes at least twice in each four hour shift. I'm almost neurotic about having way more costumes than I need. It's reassuring.
Think of your stripper bag as your arsenal. It contains all your war paint and powerful trappings of femininity that will make you the sexiest and most powerful dancer in the club!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Stigma
One of the worst things, if not the worst thing about being a stripper is the stigma you have to carry around with you 24 hours a day. Even when you aren't working you continuously run into situations where it is made all too clear to you what the general, pervasive public opinion is of strippers. As soon as I started dancing I encountered negative reactions from everyone close to me as well as strangers. There is also plenty of derogatory representation in the media.
It's such a given in our collective consciousness that being a stripper means this narrow, one dimensional stereotype that it's just assumed no girl would ever want to do it. I certainly never thought I would do it even up to six months before I started. That's partially why I only did photo shoots first.
Once I started dancing full time and really getting good at it the only thing I didn't like about it was the way people's attitudes toward me colored once they found out what I did for a living. At parties asking what someone does for a living is a pretty common conversation starter so many of the first impressions people would have of me would be based on that. It kept me from getting an apartment, and I know girls who have lost second jobs from being "outed". I won't tell my main job now that I dance on the side because I fear repercussions. I also read an article about a stripper that got kicked out a student teaching program, as if she were a fucking sex-offender or something.
Even if people are decent to my face, I know sometimes they talk behind my back and if I ever have any static with them they try to discredit me by reminding me that I'm a stripper who "shakes my ass for a living". Generally this is unrelated to the argument. My mom found out about me working on a website before I ever started at a strip club so I got spared any kind of dramatic confessional scene, but I regularly hear about other girls who get kicked out of their parent's homes or even completely disowned. It's rare to find a stripper whose parents haven't despaired over them. My mother and sister both still disapprove after nine years. They just don't and can't understand what it's like, what I see in it and what I love about it.
In movies and TV it is shown over and over that it may be okay to visit strip clubs (guys or girls) but to actually be stripper is only for low class/dumb/drug-addicted/desperate sluts. It's okay, in today's media, to be a gold digger, a Playboy centerfold, a belly dancer, a go-go dancer, or a burlesque dancer. But stippers are a freak show or a punchline. They often share with prostitutes the role of murder/abuse victim. They are very rarely portrayed as intelligent, powerful women who own their own sexuality and use it to become financially successful.
Even now in the "sex-positive" social circles I move in this negative opinion persists. Even to my face people ridicule other strippers who are my friends. My boyfriend says it's because people would rather consider me a stylist, not a stripper. But it's not that they don't know, they love watching me doing fancy pole tricks all the time at parties, and I get lots of compliments for my skill!
I also don't like this new phenomenon of non-strippers teaching pole dancing classes and stiptease-aerobics to other non-strippers, emphasizing all the while that it's not "like stripping". In other words co-opting our unique form of dance, dissecting it and repackaging it in a way that makes it safe to continue to look down at strippers while simultaneously emulating them. The message I'm getting is, non-stripping women want to be attractive and desirable to their men, like strippers, but still want the social acceptance of not being a stripper.
I say, if you want to be like strippers so bad, come work in a strip club for a while and earn it, like the rest of us. Or, you can take lessons from me and get the whole story, instead of the watered down, "safe" version offered by more mainstream sources.
It's such a given in our collective consciousness that being a stripper means this narrow, one dimensional stereotype that it's just assumed no girl would ever want to do it. I certainly never thought I would do it even up to six months before I started. That's partially why I only did photo shoots first.
Once I started dancing full time and really getting good at it the only thing I didn't like about it was the way people's attitudes toward me colored once they found out what I did for a living. At parties asking what someone does for a living is a pretty common conversation starter so many of the first impressions people would have of me would be based on that. It kept me from getting an apartment, and I know girls who have lost second jobs from being "outed". I won't tell my main job now that I dance on the side because I fear repercussions. I also read an article about a stripper that got kicked out a student teaching program, as if she were a fucking sex-offender or something.
Even if people are decent to my face, I know sometimes they talk behind my back and if I ever have any static with them they try to discredit me by reminding me that I'm a stripper who "shakes my ass for a living". Generally this is unrelated to the argument. My mom found out about me working on a website before I ever started at a strip club so I got spared any kind of dramatic confessional scene, but I regularly hear about other girls who get kicked out of their parent's homes or even completely disowned. It's rare to find a stripper whose parents haven't despaired over them. My mother and sister both still disapprove after nine years. They just don't and can't understand what it's like, what I see in it and what I love about it.
In movies and TV it is shown over and over that it may be okay to visit strip clubs (guys or girls) but to actually be stripper is only for low class/dumb/drug-addicted/desperate sluts. It's okay, in today's media, to be a gold digger, a Playboy centerfold, a belly dancer, a go-go dancer, or a burlesque dancer. But stippers are a freak show or a punchline. They often share with prostitutes the role of murder/abuse victim. They are very rarely portrayed as intelligent, powerful women who own their own sexuality and use it to become financially successful.
Even now in the "sex-positive" social circles I move in this negative opinion persists. Even to my face people ridicule other strippers who are my friends. My boyfriend says it's because people would rather consider me a stylist, not a stripper. But it's not that they don't know, they love watching me doing fancy pole tricks all the time at parties, and I get lots of compliments for my skill!
I also don't like this new phenomenon of non-strippers teaching pole dancing classes and stiptease-aerobics to other non-strippers, emphasizing all the while that it's not "like stripping". In other words co-opting our unique form of dance, dissecting it and repackaging it in a way that makes it safe to continue to look down at strippers while simultaneously emulating them. The message I'm getting is, non-stripping women want to be attractive and desirable to their men, like strippers, but still want the social acceptance of not being a stripper.
I say, if you want to be like strippers so bad, come work in a strip club for a while and earn it, like the rest of us. Or, you can take lessons from me and get the whole story, instead of the watered down, "safe" version offered by more mainstream sources.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
auto-bio 3
At the same time I was working at Nitelife I was still trying to make money other ways. My boyfriend R. got a number for a bachelor party company at a party we went to that was porn-star themed (porn stars were very chic in 99) that had actual porn stars attending. It was the second time that year that I got to meet Ron Jeremy, but that's a story for another time. Anyway, I didn't end up getting steady work with the bachelor party company but I did work one night with the owner and I was very impressed with her professionalism and success. She told me if I needed money I should just go to Little Darlings and "do some lapdances", cause that's what she did when short of money. Also she was friends with the manager so I just had to mention her name. I don't think I even had to audition. I really had no perspective, I was flying blind and took almost any advice I was given, especially from industry professionals. In retrospect it was probably stupid to go work there, because I had to go get another license, which was more money out of my pocket. You see, in San Diego they made exotic dancers (and still do, in all but two clubs) go to the police station and get fingerprinted and checked for warrants if they wanted to dance within city limits. You also have to pay two hundred dollars or something and you get your photo on a card with huge letters that say NUDE ENTERTAINER, even if you work at topless bars and never get nude. The thing was, Little Darlings was in Lemon Grove, a different city, and so I had to get another license for another two hundred dollars. There were advantages to working there that would benefit me later, though.
L.D. was part of the ginormous Deja Vu chain of strip clubs that were rapidly taking over most major cities to become the Starbucks of strip clubs. In the five years I worked in San Francisco, for instance, they bought five clubs and partnered with four more. Any girl that got blacklisted from them very quickly ran out of places to work. Today there are only three clubs in that city not at all affiliated with Deja Vu. Privately owned clubs might have more trouble with cops raiding and whatnot also.
Little Darlings focused on getting as much profit off dancer effort as possible. Instead of encouraging costumers to tip dancers they encouraged them to get lapdances, which they then took a piece of from the dancer. At Nitelife after they finished up a stage set, the girls (that's what dancers were called, "girls", at every club I've worked at) would walk around the room and collect tips from everyone. That's at least a dollar from everyone in the room, not just the guys at the tip rail. That's why it was real easy for me to go home with a decent amount of money without really knowing how to hustle at all. At Deja Vu strip clubs, if you want to survive long at all, you have to learn how to hustle.
In order to promote lapdances Little Darlings (and all Deja Vu clubs) would do things called "blue-light specials". That was when everyone had to stop what they were doing and come out of the dressing room and come up on the stage and clap and look sexy and excited to be there while the deejay played "Girls, Girls, Girls" by Motley Crue and yammered nonstop about whatever lapdance special was going on. Usually it would be a two-for-one, but sometimes they had free passes or three- or four-for- ones. I did many, many blue light specials in the years I worked for Deja Vu. (OfficiallyI think they were supposed to do one every half hour, but thankfully a lot of the small clubs weren't that vigilant). Although I suppose they were sometimes useful to generate customer interest, most girls I knew really resented being told what to do and when to do it when we weren't even on the payroll. Even worse was how they choreographed how we filed up on the stage in a line, made a circle, and clapped hands in unison (one manager actually clapped his hands all exaggerated, in front of the stage, and we were supposed to sync up with him). Then we had to stay up there until the deejay finished his spiel, then file down as he named us all off in order. It was a bit humiliating, and part of life at Deja Vu. My personal feeling was, I know how to hustle and present myself, don't fucking try to do it for me. Gosh, am I ever glad I don't work for them anymore.
to be continued, more about Little Darlings........................
L.D. was part of the ginormous Deja Vu chain of strip clubs that were rapidly taking over most major cities to become the Starbucks of strip clubs. In the five years I worked in San Francisco, for instance, they bought five clubs and partnered with four more. Any girl that got blacklisted from them very quickly ran out of places to work. Today there are only three clubs in that city not at all affiliated with Deja Vu. Privately owned clubs might have more trouble with cops raiding and whatnot also.
Little Darlings focused on getting as much profit off dancer effort as possible. Instead of encouraging costumers to tip dancers they encouraged them to get lapdances, which they then took a piece of from the dancer. At Nitelife after they finished up a stage set, the girls (that's what dancers were called, "girls", at every club I've worked at) would walk around the room and collect tips from everyone. That's at least a dollar from everyone in the room, not just the guys at the tip rail. That's why it was real easy for me to go home with a decent amount of money without really knowing how to hustle at all. At Deja Vu strip clubs, if you want to survive long at all, you have to learn how to hustle.
In order to promote lapdances Little Darlings (and all Deja Vu clubs) would do things called "blue-light specials". That was when everyone had to stop what they were doing and come out of the dressing room and come up on the stage and clap and look sexy and excited to be there while the deejay played "Girls, Girls, Girls" by Motley Crue and yammered nonstop about whatever lapdance special was going on. Usually it would be a two-for-one, but sometimes they had free passes or three- or four-for- ones. I did many, many blue light specials in the years I worked for Deja Vu. (OfficiallyI think they were supposed to do one every half hour, but thankfully a lot of the small clubs weren't that vigilant). Although I suppose they were sometimes useful to generate customer interest, most girls I knew really resented being told what to do and when to do it when we weren't even on the payroll. Even worse was how they choreographed how we filed up on the stage in a line, made a circle, and clapped hands in unison (one manager actually clapped his hands all exaggerated, in front of the stage, and we were supposed to sync up with him). Then we had to stay up there until the deejay finished his spiel, then file down as he named us all off in order. It was a bit humiliating, and part of life at Deja Vu. My personal feeling was, I know how to hustle and present myself, don't fucking try to do it for me. Gosh, am I ever glad I don't work for them anymore.
to be continued, more about Little Darlings........................
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
auto-bio 2
Let's see..other stuff I remember from my first strip club, Nitelife: The deejay used to play Lords of Acid and The Cardigans for me. This was before I accumulated all my own cds and got super-anal about deejays playing songs that I specifically picked out. The deejay was really big and bald, with glasses and an earring or two. He had some kind of silly nickname like Skippy or something , but I don't remember what it was. He was as cocky as most strip club deejays at larger strip clubs, but he was always professional and I don't remember him ever being a dick about anything.
They had a huge dressing room with rows of tall lockers. One of the biggest dressing rooms I've ever changed in, come to think of it. There was also a House Mom, a fixture in most large strip clubs. She was really nice. She told me her name, then said, "but you can just call me Mom." After the liquor ban ended and it got more busy she always had party snack plates with veggies and dip set out on the counter, and an assortment of body spray, makeup, beauty products, shoe grips, etc. in another area. As I mentioned before, she was the one who would safety pin our g-strings to our pantyhose. House Moms are usually thirty- or forty-something ex-strippers.
Also in the dressing room was a space for this couple to bring in these stripper outfits on a rolling wardrobe rack to sell. I never bought any because all my money was being saved to have a place to live again, but I remember one of the items I was interested in was a swimsuit that you could tan through, or so the wife claimed. I haven't seen anything like it since. It wasn't see through, either. Bringing stripper outfits into the club is an ingenious business plan that is actually quite common. When strippers get bored, they like to shop with their sizable amounts of cash and it's quite convenient to do it right there at work. Sometimes they will even custom-tailor outfits for you.
.........
They had a huge dressing room with rows of tall lockers. One of the biggest dressing rooms I've ever changed in, come to think of it. There was also a House Mom, a fixture in most large strip clubs. She was really nice. She told me her name, then said, "but you can just call me Mom." After the liquor ban ended and it got more busy she always had party snack plates with veggies and dip set out on the counter, and an assortment of body spray, makeup, beauty products, shoe grips, etc. in another area. As I mentioned before, she was the one who would safety pin our g-strings to our pantyhose. House Moms are usually thirty- or forty-something ex-strippers.
Also in the dressing room was a space for this couple to bring in these stripper outfits on a rolling wardrobe rack to sell. I never bought any because all my money was being saved to have a place to live again, but I remember one of the items I was interested in was a swimsuit that you could tan through, or so the wife claimed. I haven't seen anything like it since. It wasn't see through, either. Bringing stripper outfits into the club is an ingenious business plan that is actually quite common. When strippers get bored, they like to shop with their sizable amounts of cash and it's quite convenient to do it right there at work. Sometimes they will even custom-tailor outfits for you.
.........
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