Here's the Sun article about Mimi in New York, which made me remember the time I allowed myself to be interviewed and photographed on stage. Hah. Mr. Wayward and myself had the pleasure of meeting Mimi and her cohorts last week while she was in Oregon, though we didn't accompany her on any club visits, one of which is detailed rather hilariously in her blog. It was a very pleasant evening, and she told me how surprised she was at the actual dancing ability of the Union Jack's girls. "In New York we aren't allowed to use the pole," she said, "because it's not classy." Because, we agreed, everything else we do is so very classy that hanging from the pole would rip the audience out of the illusion that we're models pacing a catwalk or debutantes, etc. Hell, at least her club (Scores West) had a pole. Some of those classy joints don't even have them, and you're left to strut around, since those types of clubs will want you to wear a lycra "gown" that allows for little real dancing or movement. But hey, you look classy! I've only worked in a few clubs of that sort and while I like to put on my pearls and pin up my hair, part of the fun of being a stripper is, you know, being trashy.

Not five kids, a trailer, stretch marks and tattoos of your incarcerated sweetie's name trashy, but wearing red lipstick, having long fingernails and rhinestone earrings, cussing and telling dirty jokes trashy. Extensions trashy. Let me make that a little clearer; Christina Aguilera trashy, not Britney Spears trashy (and who would have thought Xtina would be the classy trashy one?).

And, of course, as I've mentioned here before, it's always the customers who take pains to tell you how "classy" you are who will then insult you by asking why they can't fuck you for money . . . after offering a really low sum. Heh, I'm probably not going to do it either way, but the guy who offers me $5K is clearly a misguided sweetheart whereas the one who boasts of never paying more than $200 to "date" is a jackass.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, so it's always funny how some clubs want to class it up a bit. I worked at one where suddenly we were told not to do any floorwork (splits, crawling about on all fours, spreading legs, etc.) on stage. Perfectly fine during a table dance, but not on stage. I have no idea what their goal was with that edict; it was a no-touch nude club, so pretty much its sole appeal was lots and lots of crotch shots. And for those of you thinking "ick, naked girls on the stage," please bear in mind that we don't wipe our spread pussies about on the stage. When lying back, it's on the tailbone, when doing the splits, it's not all the way. And of course, there's always a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a towel to clean the pole with should you be afraid it's . . . sweaty . . .

The whole concept of "classy," or, rather, "upscale," in a strip joint interests me a great deal. It's pretty much run its course, but in the 1990s you could find a flourishing steakhouse with tits in every mid-to-major American city. It's a market that's since been saturated, and of course, expense accounts and corporate outings aren't what they used to be. But there are still clubs that operate on this model (Scores and PEC in NYC, The Men's Club in several cities, the Lodge and Cabaret Royale in Dallas, VIPs in Chicago, the larger Vegas clubs, the Cheetah in Atlanta, and many more). I believe that it originated with Rick's in Houston, but I think further research is required.

The interesting thing is that the girls, apart from the really strict clubs, don't sustain the facade that begins with marble entranceways, exterior fountains, and valet parking. It's singularly unsettling to walk into a club like Cabaret Royale, which has fireplaces and VIP cubbyholes and a separate steakhouse to see a girl with a bad weave, booty shorts, and plastic boots on stage. If you're walking into Titties and Buttcheeks, that's what you expect. But upscale club? Hell, yes, I want artifical "class" to extend to the dancers.

Not that I would give up my booty shorts and plastic boots, though.