Working in a strip club feels like being back in high school in some ways. Just more titties. But other than that little detail, yeah, it's a lot like high school. I have had a hard time finding my place in the stripper world and where I really fit in. In every club, there's always a rank and you kind of have to prove yourself as a worthy dancer to be able to even have a conversation with most of them. I've never looked at it as a place to make friends, a place I wanted to spend a lot of time in, or a place where I needed to fit in. But, for the time being, I need to fit in somewhere so I can make the most money and get the studio up and running.
Strip Club #1: When I started doing this about 3 years ago, I started at Rick's Cabaret. Not really for any other reason than because it's the only one I had ever been in, I had a few friends that worked there, and for whatever reason, I associated that club with money. It seemed prestigious and high class. The winding staircase in the lobby, no pole on stage (so you actually had to dance), a piano was topped with plexiglass and that was the satellite stage...everything about it just screamed high class. There was a huge locker room upstairs with lighted mirrors, a old stand up tanning bed, weight machines, and even a a drag queen available to do your hair and makeup for a nominal fee. Private lap dances started at $60. House fees were really expensive. I mean, everything about this club was expensive. So, I figured that it must mean that I am expensive too--even in all of my inexperience. I tried to incorporate some of my burlesque into my sets but I quickly learned that people aren't coming to a strip club for a show. Although--I have to say that with the old timers, it was a hit. I had a geriatric once pay me $600 to sit next time him while he put his hand in the top of my panties and I pretended that I liked it. He was so drunk that even if he had gotten remotely close to my naughty bits, he wouldn't have known it.
I started to go in during the day and I had a regular who would hire me to just gogo dance for him. I didn't even have to take my top off. He would buy me lunch and just buy dance after dance. He had PTSD and would tell me war stories and show me his lighter collection. I see him from time to time but I don't think he remembers who I am.
Strip Club #2: I used to work at the Ritz Carlton as a cocktail waitress on Tuesday nights. It was the only night I worked and it was pretty easy. I would make some good tips and was out of there no later than 1am. One of my very good friends would take me to Barely Legal for 2 for 1 drinks. He had made some friends with some of the dancers and felt pretty comfortable there. On my first visit, I was completely amazed. These girls were doing pole tricks like nothing I had ever seen in my life and I was floored. To me, they were super heroes. After a few weekly visits, I too became friendly with the dancers and after some encouragement, they talked me into going to dance there. I "auditioned" and made it (phew. Wipes proverbial sweat off brow). I didn't know a lick of a pole trick. I was wobbly for sure. I took a few private lessons just to learn a few to get by and actually did pretty decent when I would work at that club. They sell 2 for 1 lap dances which is always cued by a bright blue spinning light in the ceiling of the club and the DJ plays "Girls, Girls, Girls." I could probably go the rest of my life without ever hearing that song again. All in all, I like this club. The house fee is a little high--but I make money. The girls are nice. And it makes me feel barely legal when I am the furthest thing from it.
Strip Club #3: Right after I had started my stint at BL, I was then encouraged to go try out another club by a guest I had met while working at the Ritz one night. We became friends as I served him martinis. He was a lawyer from New York. He had 2 kids and was going through a nasty divorce. I was in a dead end relationship with a guy who probably could have cared less if I ever came home or not on most nights and if I did come home, he was happy because it meant his laundry was going to get done. The lawyer would come in town every few weeks and come see me at the bar and we would talk about life, our relationships, writing, food, and pretty much anything. He ended up finding me online and we became "friends" there too. After a while, I told him that I sometimes strip and if he was ever interested in coming to see me, that I would let him know. This is when he suggested that I maybe try going over to Penthouse because that's where him and his work friends usually go. I also had a really good friend at the time that worked there and knew a lot of the girls from the burlesque community that danced there. I ended up only going there when he was in town. And I didn't have to work. He made it easy for me. We would go up to the 3rd floor for hours and continue our talks about life and relationships only during these talks, I was topless. I would make him get dances because after all, that's what he was paying me for. He has since got a girlfriend but we are still very good friends.
I went back to Penthouse and bombed miserably. It further reiterated that I am not a good stripper--but, I am a good stunt pony. So I need to go where good stunt ponies make good money. And based on what I have learned so far, good stunt ponies make decent money at Barely Legal. Well, at least this one does. I will go back there on Tuesday night and try again. I think this is where I fit in. I have a few more pole tricks up my sleeve to try this time, I will have regained my smug teenager-like confidence, and me getting the studio open will be one step closer.
Moving right along....
Friday, February 18, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The journey begins....
*Disclaimer* There are going to be some things in this blog that my friends, family, and fans will learn about me for the first time. And for better or worse, this is me. You can judge me for it--but I am prepared for that and will still like/love you anyways. I have a goal to accomplish. And the ways I choose to go about doing that have nothing to do with you. So, now that you have been forewarned, repeat after me "I understand and wish to continue."
I think my goal is simple of course. I don't think I have wanted something so bad in my life honestly. Owning and operating New Orleans' only dance studio dedicated to the education of burlesque is what I am referring to. I will buy a building that is studio space on the first floor and my home will be on the 2nd floor. As I figure out what master plan will work to enable me to purchase a building and put all this into practice, I have already hit some bumps on the way. The thought of owning something was never on my radar. I didn't think I'd ever have the means or the know how to ever get my shit together enough to buy something. I knew that people all around me were doing it--but I also know that these people didn't decide to start having kids at 19, so I kind of just thought that my choices made me handicapped to certain things. For example, having money (along with many other things but, I'll save that for another blog). And then having enough money to buy something and make a dream come to fruition.
*Warning! This piece of information you're about to read, you may not have known about me before now.* Along with burlesque dancing, I have worked at various stripclubs off and on around New Orleans for additional income. I have 2 children in private school--it's expensive. I started stripping on occasion to help pay for the monthly tuition. For the most part, I did ok. I don't even know why to be quite honest with you. I am not a hustler. And I have a hard time putting a lid on my natural ability to be a smart ass--especially not long enough to trick you into thinking I like you and think you're hot and hope that you will give me money for pretending. I think I did well on some nights because of my looks. Sometimes because I got lucky. Sometimes because the guy was just really drunk. And sometimes because the guy liked my sense of humor and thought that it was sexy.
Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn't stripped in a while. I didn't really need to. I was doing pretty well financially and quite honestly, didn't have the time to do it. I took a full time day job in November out of necessity after working for myself for nearly 3 years. It's been really rough. I have lots of past retail management experience but, I also remember that there was a huge reason why I left it too. And the last 3 months have been a reminder of that. If it weren't for the people I work with, I wouldn't have made it this far (I like how I've managed to make 3 months sound like such a long time. That's hilarious.) Truth is, I wasn't put on this planet to be in retail management--I was put here to dance. I was put here to be a medium for other people to learn how to pull their self confidence out of their toes and get on stage and strut their stuff. I was put here to entertain the masses. I was put here to be apart of what keeps the heart of New Orleans beating. I wanted to open this studio some time ago and some things came along and it got put away to the backburner but now, it's something that I think about day in and day out and I want it to happen so bad that it makes my skin burn. I devised a plan that will make this dream come true, and here it is:
1) Quit day job. Running someone else's business for them will not do anything for wanting to run your own.
2) Learn the art of the hustle and begin stripping 3-4 times a week at club or clubs of choice.
3) Use the bulk of the mad cash that you plan on making at said clubs to pay off your car. Your one and only debt. Approximately $5342.47.
4) Continue to do burlesque gigs, teach classes, gogo dance, makeup gigs, and pretty much any other side gig that comes along. As per usual.
5) Once mad cash has paid off your car, start stashing away to use as a down payment towards the building.
6) Search for ideal building in the Treme, Bywater, and surrounding areas.
7) Buy building. Move in. Take over the world.
Last night I decided that it was time to start putting this plan into practice. I have already put my notice into the day job and will be leaving there after Mardi Gras. I don't have my kids on Tuesday nights because they go with their dad. So, after working all day at the day job, I headed over to the French Quarter in a pretty good head space. I was going to go in early and avoid an exorbitant house fee. Gee, I'm so smart. I put on the outfit that I feel most confident in: a long grey scarf from American Apparel that I wrap around my neck, across my boobs, and tie it behind my back, some gunmetal grey shiny stripper panties that tie on the sides and have ruching in the buttcrack to make your ass look pretty cute, and my favorite black patent leather Bordello heels. I was ready. I was going to sashay by every man in that place and wow him and the money was going to come pouring out of his wallet like blood pours out of slaughtered pigs. I had the confidence of a smug teenager and I was planning on making the first night of the Master Plan be a big one. The first 3 guys walk into the club at around 7:30pm. I was the first entertainer of the evening and I took the stage. I shimmied up the pole, hung upside down, spun around it with my cat like slinkiness and landed in a split. I pulled out all my best tricks because well, they were the only 3 guys in the place and it should be easy to get their money because right now, they've got my full attention. After my set, I saunter over to their table. They seemed pretty decent in the beginning. They told me that they had just left another neighboring club and came here because the "girls are prettier." After running through the typical run-of-the-mill stripper questions (what's your name, where are you from, blah, blah) it's customary to ask the customer what brings him into this fine topless establishment. I was told that the young man across the table had been in court that day for attempted murder. My smart ass nature bubbles up to my lips but I do a good job of squishing it back down long enough to encourage him to get a lap dance in celebration for not being in jail (ok yeah, that was smart ass of me. But I did it in a sexy way. I promise). I proceed with my dance for the length of the song. He sits in his chair completely indifferent. His indifference is sucking the self confidence right out of me at rapid, rapid world record breaking speeds. The song ends and I turn around to collect my $20. He looks at me and says "My girlfriend does it better." At this point I didn't even know what to say. His friends are behind him giggling and fumbling because they didn't expect him to say that either. He refused to pay me for my time. It was a kick in the gut honestly. Instead of starting off the night with kicking someone in the balls, I decided to be the bigger person and walk away (I already was the bigger person just for the simple fact that I wasn't being accused of killing anyone. So there, asshole.)
The customers slowly started to trickle in and my self esteem trickled out. And my performance showed it. What I realized last night is that I am a decent pole dancer--not a good stripper. Not only did I not make much money last night, about $13 of the measly $35 I had managed to make had gotten stolen by some other stripper or customer while I was on stage. I watched a goth dominatrix win the affections (by affections, I mean money) of a middle aged man I had been sitting with for a little while and when that happened, I was through (To her credit, she was amazing. She did some pole tricks that were downright a la Cirque du Soleil. I'd had given her my money if I were middle aged and overweight too). All my insecurities were screaming at me at that point and I just couldn't take it that night. I had started my period the night before, my first encounter of the night was with an attempted murderer, I don't drink so there is nothing there to buffer any of those things, and as much as I didn't want to accept it, I am a complete wreck because the 1 year anniversary of my mother's death is in 5 days. One of the main reasons for my drive is because of my mom. She'd probably be mad at me at first for doing this--but I once she knew why I was doing it, she'd be moderately ok and would probably even want to hear the crazy stories. Last year was the hardest year of my life. It was filled with a lot of loss, a lot of disappointment, and more changes than I think one person should have to deal with. This year on the other hand is already off to a good start. And by the end of the year, I want to be living in my building.
I can do this.
And I'm happy to have you along on my journey.
I think my goal is simple of course. I don't think I have wanted something so bad in my life honestly. Owning and operating New Orleans' only dance studio dedicated to the education of burlesque is what I am referring to. I will buy a building that is studio space on the first floor and my home will be on the 2nd floor. As I figure out what master plan will work to enable me to purchase a building and put all this into practice, I have already hit some bumps on the way. The thought of owning something was never on my radar. I didn't think I'd ever have the means or the know how to ever get my shit together enough to buy something. I knew that people all around me were doing it--but I also know that these people didn't decide to start having kids at 19, so I kind of just thought that my choices made me handicapped to certain things. For example, having money (along with many other things but, I'll save that for another blog). And then having enough money to buy something and make a dream come to fruition.
*Warning! This piece of information you're about to read, you may not have known about me before now.* Along with burlesque dancing, I have worked at various stripclubs off and on around New Orleans for additional income. I have 2 children in private school--it's expensive. I started stripping on occasion to help pay for the monthly tuition. For the most part, I did ok. I don't even know why to be quite honest with you. I am not a hustler. And I have a hard time putting a lid on my natural ability to be a smart ass--especially not long enough to trick you into thinking I like you and think you're hot and hope that you will give me money for pretending. I think I did well on some nights because of my looks. Sometimes because I got lucky. Sometimes because the guy was just really drunk. And sometimes because the guy liked my sense of humor and thought that it was sexy.
Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn't stripped in a while. I didn't really need to. I was doing pretty well financially and quite honestly, didn't have the time to do it. I took a full time day job in November out of necessity after working for myself for nearly 3 years. It's been really rough. I have lots of past retail management experience but, I also remember that there was a huge reason why I left it too. And the last 3 months have been a reminder of that. If it weren't for the people I work with, I wouldn't have made it this far (I like how I've managed to make 3 months sound like such a long time. That's hilarious.) Truth is, I wasn't put on this planet to be in retail management--I was put here to dance. I was put here to be a medium for other people to learn how to pull their self confidence out of their toes and get on stage and strut their stuff. I was put here to entertain the masses. I was put here to be apart of what keeps the heart of New Orleans beating. I wanted to open this studio some time ago and some things came along and it got put away to the backburner but now, it's something that I think about day in and day out and I want it to happen so bad that it makes my skin burn. I devised a plan that will make this dream come true, and here it is:
1) Quit day job. Running someone else's business for them will not do anything for wanting to run your own.
2) Learn the art of the hustle and begin stripping 3-4 times a week at club or clubs of choice.
3) Use the bulk of the mad cash that you plan on making at said clubs to pay off your car. Your one and only debt. Approximately $5342.47.
4) Continue to do burlesque gigs, teach classes, gogo dance, makeup gigs, and pretty much any other side gig that comes along. As per usual.
5) Once mad cash has paid off your car, start stashing away to use as a down payment towards the building.
6) Search for ideal building in the Treme, Bywater, and surrounding areas.
7) Buy building. Move in. Take over the world.
Last night I decided that it was time to start putting this plan into practice. I have already put my notice into the day job and will be leaving there after Mardi Gras. I don't have my kids on Tuesday nights because they go with their dad. So, after working all day at the day job, I headed over to the French Quarter in a pretty good head space. I was going to go in early and avoid an exorbitant house fee. Gee, I'm so smart. I put on the outfit that I feel most confident in: a long grey scarf from American Apparel that I wrap around my neck, across my boobs, and tie it behind my back, some gunmetal grey shiny stripper panties that tie on the sides and have ruching in the buttcrack to make your ass look pretty cute, and my favorite black patent leather Bordello heels. I was ready. I was going to sashay by every man in that place and wow him and the money was going to come pouring out of his wallet like blood pours out of slaughtered pigs. I had the confidence of a smug teenager and I was planning on making the first night of the Master Plan be a big one. The first 3 guys walk into the club at around 7:30pm. I was the first entertainer of the evening and I took the stage. I shimmied up the pole, hung upside down, spun around it with my cat like slinkiness and landed in a split. I pulled out all my best tricks because well, they were the only 3 guys in the place and it should be easy to get their money because right now, they've got my full attention. After my set, I saunter over to their table. They seemed pretty decent in the beginning. They told me that they had just left another neighboring club and came here because the "girls are prettier." After running through the typical run-of-the-mill stripper questions (what's your name, where are you from, blah, blah) it's customary to ask the customer what brings him into this fine topless establishment. I was told that the young man across the table had been in court that day for attempted murder. My smart ass nature bubbles up to my lips but I do a good job of squishing it back down long enough to encourage him to get a lap dance in celebration for not being in jail (ok yeah, that was smart ass of me. But I did it in a sexy way. I promise). I proceed with my dance for the length of the song. He sits in his chair completely indifferent. His indifference is sucking the self confidence right out of me at rapid, rapid world record breaking speeds. The song ends and I turn around to collect my $20. He looks at me and says "My girlfriend does it better." At this point I didn't even know what to say. His friends are behind him giggling and fumbling because they didn't expect him to say that either. He refused to pay me for my time. It was a kick in the gut honestly. Instead of starting off the night with kicking someone in the balls, I decided to be the bigger person and walk away (I already was the bigger person just for the simple fact that I wasn't being accused of killing anyone. So there, asshole.)
The customers slowly started to trickle in and my self esteem trickled out. And my performance showed it. What I realized last night is that I am a decent pole dancer--not a good stripper. Not only did I not make much money last night, about $13 of the measly $35 I had managed to make had gotten stolen by some other stripper or customer while I was on stage. I watched a goth dominatrix win the affections (by affections, I mean money) of a middle aged man I had been sitting with for a little while and when that happened, I was through (To her credit, she was amazing. She did some pole tricks that were downright a la Cirque du Soleil. I'd had given her my money if I were middle aged and overweight too). All my insecurities were screaming at me at that point and I just couldn't take it that night. I had started my period the night before, my first encounter of the night was with an attempted murderer, I don't drink so there is nothing there to buffer any of those things, and as much as I didn't want to accept it, I am a complete wreck because the 1 year anniversary of my mother's death is in 5 days. One of the main reasons for my drive is because of my mom. She'd probably be mad at me at first for doing this--but I once she knew why I was doing it, she'd be moderately ok and would probably even want to hear the crazy stories. Last year was the hardest year of my life. It was filled with a lot of loss, a lot of disappointment, and more changes than I think one person should have to deal with. This year on the other hand is already off to a good start. And by the end of the year, I want to be living in my building.
I can do this.
And I'm happy to have you along on my journey.
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