Trading Pu$$y for Prada

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A glimpse into the beginnings of my decade working in the sex industry and how I developed a passion for fashion.

“Sex and Art are the same thing”

— Pablo Picasso

Serving my best “Calvin Klein Model” look. Wearing nothing but Calvin Klein. Shot by Jayden Byrne Photography 2024.

To me, sex and art are of the same fabric. As an artist I am drawn to all different types of art… Architecture, fine arts, visual arts, music, fashion, and the written word. Sex is also an art form. It inspires so many aspects of art and artist’s lives. In my mind, you can’t have one without the other.

PERSPECTIVES AND APPROVAL

“Sex is a big part of what I do”

- (Lee) Alexander McQueen

At 28 I was heading into the height of my burlesque career and was surrounded by strippers and full-service sex workers, many of whom had become my friends.

The image I had of the whole industry was shaped by the films and series I had watched in my mid 20’s, like Showgirls, Striptease and Secret Diary of a Call Girl. I looked up to the Playboy Pin-Ups, mesmerised by their beauty and sensuality. And I was a big fan of Dita Von Teese, and knew that her career had started in strip clubs.

I was deeply intrigued by the sex industry, especially with stripping and strip clubs, yet I had never set foot in one, nor engaged in any kind of trade for sexual services. Despite my intrigue, I still had a very stigmatised idea of the type of women who worked in such a profession. I was one of those naive burlesque girls who would say “I’m a burlesque artist, not a stripper!”

Serving my best “Dita” look in one of my first Burlesque themed photoshoots, shot in N.Z in 2008. Wearing Kylie Minogue lingerie, Alannah Hill gloves, and custom made corset and top hat.

But as I spent more time getting to know the sex workers who had found their way into my friendship circle, I realised that they were smart, independent, confident women who knew what they wanted and how to get it.

During a conversation with a friend — one of Australia’s top burlesque performers at the time — she pointed out that all the best burlesque performers in the world were full-time strippers. Just like her, they used those grinding hours on strip-club podiums to practice their craft: the art of the tease. She invited me to come and spend a few hours in the club to see what it was all about.

I remember my first time clearly. I remember watching my friend move slowly and gracefully under the beautiful pink strip-club lights, getting tipped on stage as she played with adoring customers, me included.

I sat in the front row with my boyfriend and watched the other girls on stage and observed the different types of clientele and dancers. I didn’t have the courage to take the plunge into a private room for a lap dance, but I watched the shows, tipped the dancers, and then went home to reflect on what I’d just seen.

I liked it, and it didn’t feel as seedy or abhorrent as I’d been led to believe. However, I still knew and felt the stigma attached to strippers. This was long before Cardi B and Meghan Thee Stallion had made being a stripper a Netflix palatable occupation for women. I was worried about what my friends and family would think and I didn’t want it to tarnish my burlesque image and persona.

Although my boyfriend was supportive, he had strict boundaries about any of his friends, family, colleagues or staff knowing where I was going in the evenings. He was a prominent bar owner and didn’t want my becoming a stripper to reflect badly on his image.

However, regardless of whether I had anyone else’s support or approval, before I could even think of mustering up the courage to set foot on that stage, I had to get my mother’s blessing. She had always been my biggest supporter and I didn’t feel right doing something like this without her knowledge. We had spoken about the idea of me stripping when I had decided to get my boobs done and had thought stripping would be a great way to pay for the surgery. I had also been heavily involved in the burlesque industry, so I was technically already doing the bulk of the job, and my mum often came to my shows and met a lot of the other performers.

Because of that, I went into the conversation with confidence.

The first time I competed in the Miss Nude Australia pageant in 2012 I paced 3rd overall. Shot at the Crazy Horse Revue in Adelaide, wearing nothing but my sashes and a smile, obviously.

One afternoon she was at home having lunch with the television on in the background. A documentary came on titled The Best Undressed, about the Miss Nude Australia pageant. My mum recognised one of the girls because she had seen her perform alongside me in Miss Burlesque Australia. She was instantly intrigued and watched the whole thing. When I saw her later that evening, she told me how great she thought the documentary was and that she’d recognised some of the faces. I told her I knew a lot of girls who had competed in the competition and that they worked full-time as strippers. When she asked me “Do you know how much money those girls make?”, which had been revealed during the documentary, I replied “Yes!”, and she exclaimed “Ha! Well, clearly you’re not taking enough off!”

Clearly, I had her approval.

NAME AND IDENTITY

“A woman is never sexier than when she is comfortable in her clothes.”

— Vera Wang

So, in November 2011, I auditioned at Spearmint Rhino in Melbourne.

Before your audition even begins, you need to pick your “stripper name”, and it must be a name that no other girl is using, as there can only be one girl of each name working at the club. Some of the girls I was auditioning with went through about five or six names — like Candy, Eve, Nadia, Charlie, Brandy or Danni — before finding one not currently in use.

The one-girl-one-name policy meant that you attached a lot of memories and familiarity to that girl and that name. Over the years, if a dancer left the club, her name would be recycled back into the list of useable names, and every time a name was passed down your heart would break a little when the new girl stepped out on stage to the announcement of that name. It was like witnessing a “stripper death” — the old “Brandy” was never coming back.

It also meant you could literally make a “name” for yourself as the pole girl, the super hustler, the bitch, the funny one. Everyone related your personality to your chosen name, and some names have gone down in the history of certain clubs. If you worked at Rhino circa 2010–2015, you know who Nadia, Danni, Denise, Brandy, Chase, Charlie, Lulu, and Kitten were.

Along with the name came the different tactics girls would use to hustle money from their customers. Some girls acted innocent or dumb, some were overtly sexual, and some just wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. Some girls would use the same lines on every customer and just keep trying until it worked. A lot of girls used alcohol to ease their nerves and the nerves of the customers. Some would even get blind drunk and barely be able to move, let alone give a good lap dance. Some girls focused on their conversations to win customers over. Others just used their incredibly good looks to intimidate men into spending time with them.

Girls would usually switch up tactics if they were talking to one man as opposed to a group. One of the strongest hustle techniques was “the dynamic duo”: teaming up with one of your girlfriends to work together when approaching customers. Guys are always more likely to go for a dance if everyone in the group is going — peer pressure works a treat in that environment. The number of guys in a group would dictate how many girls you’d motion to come over with you. Sometimes guys would choose girls individually and then all go off together, but most of the time we would team up with girls we knew how to work with.

I discovered early on that pretending to be a different character from myself was exhausting and didn’t work for me.

So, instead, I just used my natural character to create friendly conversations and to try to get a laugh. Sometimes I would pick on guys, especially if they were in a group, as it was a better way of getting their attention than pretending to like them.

“Amy” lounging around on the leopard print carpet that lines the floor of all Spearmint Rhino’s around the world. Shot in 2014. No clothing, but still draped in Metal Couture Jewels and my treasured Vivienne Westwood watch. A strippers most important accessory is her watch, because she always needs to be aware of the time.

Being myself made it easy to sustain a natural conversation and it meant I didn’t have to make up stories on the fly. It also meant that when I met interesting customers who I wanted to see outside of the club they weren’t shocked to discover that I was completely different to the character I portrayed inside.

So I went with the name Amy. It’s generic, easy to remember, and believable as a real name. It’s the name I use when I order coffee in a café, as my real name is far too hard for your average barista to pronounce.

I already had Strawberry Siren as my burlesque stage name, but I didn’t want to use it as I wasn’t going public about working as a stripper and I wanted to keep the two personas separate. Plus, no guy was going to think my name was “Strawberry”. However, from about 2014, I started being a featured performer in clubs, and in those performances I did go by the name Strawberry. If customers questioned it, I would tell them “Well, Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter ‘Apple’”, and then if that didn’t work, I could still default to Amy, and that usually convinced them.

CLOTHING AND IMAGE

“The joy of dressing is an art.”

— John Galliano

Whenever I look back on my audition at the club, I cringe. I was wearing a black, knee-length, slightly sparkly sack for a dress. It did nothing for my figure and it made it difficult to dance. I wore pink Vivienne Westwood X Melissa wedges as I didn’t yet own a pair of Pleaser heels. I could move on the stage OK, but I had no idea what to do around the pole. I must have looked like most new strippers do in their first few weeks on the job: like a baby giraffe.

Serving my best “Baby Stripper” look. This was the first shoot I did after I started working in clubs and was attempting to not look like a Burlesque performer. Shot in 2012. Wearing Pleasure State lingerie.

Every baby stripper spends a few months exploring what her “stripper look” or fashion will be. Most clubs have rules about what you can wear on the floor and on stage. When I first started, all the girls had to wear gowns on the floor and bikinis or lingerie on the stage. It was always easy to get hand-me-downs from other strippers who had grown tired of wearing the same old thing. One of my favourite gowns — still to this day — is a hand-me-down from the girlfriend who first invited me to come and see what the club was all about. It’s simple, elegant, cheap, and sits beautifully on my curves. It’s the dress I wear when I want to feel comfortable but also look stunning.

One of the hottest dresses I ever wore cost me $50 and made me a whole lot of cash in return. It was made from a sparkly baby-blue fabric and was long-sleeve, knee-length with a cut-out in the front that showed off my stomach and under-boob. I bought it off the older lady who would sit in the change-room on Friday and Saturday nights selling her handmade stripper outfits. She was an overweight chain-smoker who loved a good chat, and would spend the week sewing stripper dresses and outfits to sell in each of the clubs along King St on the weekends. I swear she got much of the inspirations for her designs from the Kardashians. And rightly so.

The Kardashians played a big part in stripper fashion. Keeping Up with The Kardashians first aired in 2007 and Kim’s look and style was most definitely reflected on the floor in strip clubs around the world.

Not just in the clothes being worn, but also the hair, make-up, boob jobs, filler, Botox, and the Brazilian Butt Lift (aka the BBL), the surgery the Kardashian’s made famous. Kim represented wealth and glamour, which was the look strippers hoped to emulate.

Serving my best “so do you wanna go for a dance or not” look. Shot in 2013. Wearing THAT $50 dress.

For all the wealth and glamour strippers strived to exude, it may come as a surprise that the perfume they used the most wasn’t some expensive couture scent like Chanel №5 or J’Adore by Dior. No, the most-commonly-used perfume by strippers at the time was Britney Spears Fantasy. There’s just something about that scent that guys go crazy for — they’d even ask what perfume we were wearing and where they could get it for their girlfriends.

I always wondered what story they told their girlfriends about where they got the idea to buy a Britney Spears perfume from. Because let’s face it, men aren’t going into the cosmetics department to peruse the latest scents being sold by international pop stars.

TRUTH AND RELATIONSHIPS

“You can have anything you want, if you dress for it.”

— Edith Head

There are two important things every stripper lies to customers about: her name, and whether she has a boyfriend.

The first might seem like an obvious requirement of the job, but customers still think they’re clever when they say “Wait… that’s not your real name” (Urgh. No shit, Sherlock).

The answer to the second is always: No.

Although, sometimes if I felt like the customer was shy, or they’d already blurted out “Oh, I have a girlfriend”, I would ease their nerves by saying, “Yeah, sweet, I have a boyfriend. I promise we won’t do anything that would make either of our partners mad”, which turned out to be a great hustling tactic.

The truth, however, varied throughout the years, as did its benefits.

When I first started working in the sex industry in 2011, I was lucky enough to do so with a supportive boyfriend. Some girls hit the jackpot and manage to land a partner that has the emotional maturity, self-confidence, security in who they are, trust in their partner and understanding of the work, to cope in the role of “stripper’s husband/wife”. But not many girls have that luxury. Some lie to their partners about what they do, some travel and work in other towns to hide it. The really unlucky ones have boyfriends who say they’re OK with it but then show up and make a scene in the club.

In the beginning, I liked the security of knowing I had someone to go home to. It also gave me clear boundaries with the men at work and I very rarely felt tempted by them. But for most, stripping when you’re single is more ideal: nobody to answer to, nobody else’s emotions to be careful of, no questions about the customers you’ve interacted with, and no raised eyebrows about how you made that much money in just one night. You also don’t have to worry about waking someone up when you get home, which means you can wind down, have a bath, eat, watch TV and have uninterrupted sleep.

I eventually split with my boyfriend in 2013 because he was ready to settle down and start a family and my career was just taking off. He wanted a partner that was home in the evenings and awake during the day so he could enjoy their company.

Alongside my career in strip-clubs, my work in the performing arts was at an all-time high. I had just been crowned Miss Burlesque Australia and was spending a good portion of my time on tour. Which is why stripping suited me so well; it was a solid job I could come and go from as I pleased. It was also a space where I could be myself and express myself freely.

Shot in 2014 by Dom Kieler just prior to handing over my Miss Burlesque Australia title. Wearing Made By Niki bodysuit & skirt and Vivienne Westwood for Melissa heels.

Being single only made that easier. Being single gives you the freedom to push the boundaries of how you hustle. Not having a boyfriend to have to explain or justify anything to makes it easier to go on paid dinner dates, do private parties in hotel rooms, or have regular customers you see on particular nights or when they’re in town. And it also gives you the freedom to hook up with customers you feel a strong and genuine connection with.

One very quiet weeknight in 2014, a man walked in that I was instantly attracted to. He was well-dressed, with dark skin and a slight American accent. We got to chatting, he bought me a drink, and after about five minutes I asked him to marry me.

He told me he lived in L.A. and worked as a high-profile sports lawyer. We got along well and he took me for a dance, which was really hot. At the end of the dance he gave me his U.S. phone number and told me that if I was ever in town that I should give him a call. I told him I would be heading there in the next few months and would definitely give him a buzz.

When I got to L.A. I was nervous and wasn’t sure if he would even remember me. But I struck up a conversation and sent a sexy photo of myself just to be sure he knew exactly who I was.

We arranged to meet the following night when me and the girlfriend I was staying with would be heading out for a couple of drinks with friends. He said he would be coming straight from work and would probably have a couple of work mates with him and asked if that was OK. I said yes.

My girlfriends and I got to the bar early to settle in and have a cocktail before he got there. I spotted him as he walked through the door and nervously waited in my seat until he and his workmates got to the bar and got a drink. This was a tactic most strippers abide by: let the customer have a moment to “settle in” before you approach so that they don’t feel overwhelmed or pounced upon. So once they had drinks in their hands I went over to say hello. He greeted me with a big smile and a kiss on the cheek while his workmates exchanged smirks and side glances with each other.

He then introduced me to everyone and I charmed them immediately with my cheeky banter. The workmates politely re-positioned themselves at the bar so that we could have some space to catch up. I have no memory of what we spoke about, but I introduced him to my girlfriends and after a short while he asked if I’d like to go back to his place for a drink.

As we were heading out of the bar, he said, “My car is parked just out front. I’ll drive us.” The only car parked out the front was a Maserati. As we got in, I jokingly asked, “Is this just your weekend car?” He looked at me and smirked and gave a little giggle, then we drove off.

His house was in the Hollywood Hills. And by “house” I mean architecturally-designed bachelor pad with a floor-to-ceiling view of downtown Hollywood.

I felt like I was in a scene from a movie. He gave me a little tour of his home, then poured me a drink and we kissed leaning against the immaculate kitchen counter. I asked him how on earth he was single and he said he was married to his job and that it was hard to make time for anything else.

We sat and talked for a little while and then headed to the palatial bedroom. He had a low, king-size bed situated beside the floor-to-ceiling windows with the view. As we got to know each other intimately, I got to stare into the lights of Hollywood and see the fun we were having reflecting back.

The next morning, he worked from home for a few hours and let me sleep in. When I got up, he made me coffee and something to eat and then ordered me a Lyft. When my driver arrived, my movie-tale lover walked me out and kissed me goodbye — a complete gentleman.

The first thing my driver asked was, “Wow, is this your house?” I laughed and told her I lived in Melbourne. She said that she rarely gets to drive up into the Hills as not many people living up there use ride-share — they usually have private drivers or limos.

Serving my best “glamorous hotel dalliance” look. Shot in 2023 at Hotel Windsor in Melbourne by David Lunch. Wearing a vintage Balmain gown that I purchased in my favourite little store on Gertrude St.

In my 10+ years working in clubs, there would only be about five instances in which I ended up sleeping with a customer from work. Some of these dalliances were business transactions, and the others just for pleasure. The glamorous L.A. sports lawyer was my first and I was completely spoiled out of the gate — it would never be this glamorous again. In fact, all but one other instance would be slightly terrifying.

I take my hat off to the women who can work as full-time, full-service sex workers. I have not been able to find the confidence and ability to commit to the job and allow customers that level of intimacy and privilege.

My experience in the field was equal to putting both my feet in the bath, only to discover that the water was quite hot, and as much as I tried to withstand it and breath through the discomfort, I had to get out before it burnt me.

One of the hardest parts about having a boyfriend while working in clubs is when things aren’t great in your relationship. There is always some guy at the club ready to treat you like an absolute queen. They might not all invite you to their mansion in L.A, but they’ll tell you how incredible you are and how lucky they’d be to have someone like you. No matter what they say, all you can hear ringing in your head is, “I wish my boyfriend felt that way”.

It’s so hard not to get lost in that momentary fantasy, but the guy singing your praises while you’re wearing expensive lingerie and a face full of make-up isn’t going to be calling you a goddess the next day in your velour tracksuit and smudged mascara. The club is built on the intoxication of meeting someone new inside and dreaming it could improve your reality outside. For the record, it very rarely can.

The hard part is being able to create that dream for clients without getting lost in it yourself.

FAME AND PRIVACY

“People will stare. Make it worth their while.”

— Harry Winston

Being only somewhat in the public eye is obviously a very different experience to being famous. You have the luxury of maintaining a private life and keeping things like your legal name and relationship status a secret. Depending on what you do, you can also go unrecognised most of the time. It was mostly only when I was out and about pre- or post-show, in full make-up, hair, and an outfit that anyone recognised me in public. Also, when much of your time in front of audiences is spent naked, most people won’t recognise you when you’re fully dressed. Although, tattoos are always a big give-away.

If I left the house covered up with casual clothing and no make-up, I would rarely be recognised. I once bumped into a client from the night before while I was getting my morning coffee, and even though he looked straight at me, he didn’t recognise me out of my glamour mode.

Serving my best “casual Saturday” look. Shot by Joel Devereux in 2015. Wearing Wheels and Dollbaby and Alexandre Hercovich for Melissa boots.

I was less likely to enjoy fame outside of the clubs than I was to meet famous people inside them. At a certain level of fame, strip clubs become a more attractive place for the famous to hang out in than your standard night club.

I imagine this is mostly for three reasons: 1. Nobody is allowed to have their phone out in a strip club, so it’s less likely that punters will try and take their photo; 2. Strip clubs have private areas and rooms which make it easy to party and hang out without being in front of the general public; 3. In a regular nightclub, people would be hounding them for attention and pictures, whereas strippers will mostly just want to get paid and aren’t into documenting the experience.

My closest brush with fame was in Perth of all places. It was January 2014 and I was there for the Perth Fringe Festival, headlining my Miss Burlesque Australia Victory Lap tour and featuring at a local strip club on the weekends. I was on stage doing my feature show and I noticed a group of guys fully focused on my show, so I started directing my attention to them. They looked very “Rock-n-Roll” and so I was naturally attracted to them, but a few looked familiar. One of them came up and tipped me and asked me to come and join them after my show.

When I joined them they said they were really impressed with my performance and that they were in town touring with the Big Day Out. This was the year that Pearl Jam, Snoop Dog, Major Lazer, The 1975, and Deftones were featured, and it turned out to be the last ever Big Day Out tour.

As we started chatting, I finally realised who they were. I was a big fan of their music, but I kept my cool and treated them like any other customers.

I told them about my fringe show and that I had brought out a bunch of my favourite Burlesque performers for the tour and that we were all staying together in Perth for the duration. They then invited me and my cast to be their guests the following night at the Big Day Out afterparty.

One of them eventually asked me to go for a dance. As we approached the private-room receptionist, the manager of the club came up and waved us through and told the receptionist to comp the dance for my guest. That would be the only time in my 12-year strip-club career that a manager would offer to pay for a dance for a V.I.P.

I started the lap dance like I would any other. I had a routine for my lap dances that helped me keep track of the time without looking at my watch and helped me keep my concentration and avoid stumbling around not knowing what to do. I slowly removed my dress and got closer and more comfortable with my V.I.P. He started asking me questions, showing interest in my life and personality and we shared a few laughs and got very cosy. After removing my bra, I went to remove my G-string and he stopped me. He said he was happy just to hang out and chat as we were, he didn’t need me to be completely naked.

We spent the rest of the night sharing stories about our lives, me curled up in his lap.

There was an obvious connection and attraction between us but we kept things professional and just enjoyed getting to know each other. We took no note of the time until we were notified that the club was about to close. As we emerged from our 2–3 hours in the private rooms his friends were all waiting, wearing cheeky grins and giving a small round of applause. He gave me his contact number so we could arrange the passes for the after party the following night and I said good-bye to the group and that we’d continue the fun tomorrow evening.

Serving my best “vintage pin-up” look. Shot in 2014 in Perth, just before heading off to the BDO after party. Wearing Dita Von Teese for Wheels & Dollbaby, a vintage skirt, and Melissa Heels.

The next night me and my crew of five Burlesque Babes rolled into the afterparty, and in a room full of famous people somehow managed to draw everyone’s attention to us. Fresh off stage from our evening performance, we were dressed in our usual pin-up glamour with our hair and make-up done to show-level perfection. The group of guys that I’d met the night before came over to greet us and brought along some additional recognisable faces.

My girlfriends and I could feel the scathing glares from the numerous other groups of ladies there to meet their favourite rock stars. Unfortunately for them those rock stars were coming over to hang with us. It didn’t take long for a large group to form around us while we courted and entertained our hosts. When you work in the entertainment industry and you meet other entertainers — famous or not — you often have similar personalities, interests and a respect for other performing artists. So we weren’t phased with being surrounded by famous faces, and quickly made friends with the group forming around us.

After introducing me to some of my all-time favourite rock stars, the gentleman I had danced for the previous evening whisked me to a dark corner so we could continue our conversation. No longer in an environment where sexual contact was being monitored or controlled, we allowed our attraction to run free and enjoyed levels of intimacy we had refrained from the night before. At 1:00 am he mentioned that he had a 6:00 am lobby call the following morning, so we snuck away to his hotel.

At 6:00 am, wrapped in hotel bed sheets, I kissed my lover farewell as he reluctantly dragged his bags out the door.

Wishing that the whole experience wasn’t coming to a grinding halt, we promised to stay in touch and somehow see each other again to pick up from where we were had abruptly left off. Which we did… six years later.

MONEY AND MATURITY

“I like my money right where I can see it … hanging in my closet.”

— Carrie Bradshaw

My first night at Rhino was a Wednesday. I started at 7:00 pm when the club opened and I worked until around 2:00 am. I did four, fairly nerve-wracking lap dances and made $300. I felt sexy, slightly confident, and pretty thrilled with the cash I now had in my hand. When I got home to my boyfriend, he asked how it went and how much I made. I relayed my experience and my income for the night and he said “Well, that’s better than eight hours in an office. Well done!”

I had been making cash-in-hand money for years, but it always required hard labour and a lot of effort. This felt easy. I got to run around with my clothes off, work when I wanted, for however long I wanted, drink on the job, hang out with my girlfriends at work, feel sexy and powerful and get paid for it. I was hooked.

But stripping is like a gambling addiction, and you can never un-know how much money you could be making — a very important fact about the industry I had been made aware of before I started.

Like all potentially addictive substances, stripping should come with a warning label and be reserved for those who have reached an acceptable level of maturity.

Serving my best “What everyone thinks their life is going to be like when they start stripping” look. Shot in 2009 before I started stripping in clubs. Wearing $50,000AUD.

I was 29 when I started working in strip clubs, which is old in “stripper years”. Most girls start stripping in their early 20’s and some even start as soon as they turn 18, which I find a bit frightening. I’m grateful that I started slightly later in life. I didn’t develop my sexual confidence until my mid-to-late twenties and I think the strip-club environment would have stunted the growth of my confidence if I didn’t already have some.

I believe that to work in the sex industry a person should be in a stable — or at least slightly mature — place personally, with the basics of their own sexuality figured out.

How can a person exude sexuality and carry out sexual fantasies for others without knowing their own sexual interests, boundaries, fetishes, needs and desires? How can you deliver a convincing fake orgasm if you can’t give yourself a real one? I acknowledge that this perspective comes from a place of privilege, and not all sex workers have a choice about how they make money or why/how they work in the industry.

But so many young women see stripping as an easy way of making quick cash without realising the damage it can do to their sexual confidence, body confidence, their relationship with drugs and alcohol and their relationships and perception of men. It also gives you an unhealthy relationship with money if you’ve never had a minimum-wage job before.

So I think it’s important to have had your heart broken a couple of times, had a few one-night stands, learnt your limits with booze, held down a “normal” job and paid your bills before you start a career in the sex industry. Because no matter how good the going might be, there’s never any guarantee that you’ll actually make money in a strip club. You don’t get paid by the hour — you only get paid in tips and dances — plus, you start your night in the negative, as you have to pay a house fee before entering the venue, which is usually around $100.

Some nights I would make over $1,000 for less than eight hours’ work. Other nights I’d be lucky to make back the house fee. You have to attract the right customer at the right time to make real money. And most of the time that has nothing to do with how you look or what you’re wearing. Your income on any particular night could depend on things like your aesthetic, your attitude, your menstrual cycle, the number of girls, the number of customers, whether you’re drunk or not, other things happening in the city that night — especially sporting matches — and, in Melbourne, the fucking weather.

Basically, it’s just pure luck.

There were some girls who always made good money, even on a slow weeknight. In the industry we referred to those girls as “super hustlers”. They had this almost magical ability to be in the right place at the right time and keep their customers spending money all night. These women weren’t necessarily younger or prettier than the others, they just had a knack for telling men what they needed to hear in order to hand over their cash.

PASSION AND FASHION

“Fashion is not necessarily about labels. It’s not about brands. It’s about something else that comes from within you.”

— Ralph Lauren

When you do start making proper money, the doors to the finer things in life swing open. For me, that meant fashion.

As a young girl in the 90’s I dreamed of working in the fashion industry when I grew up. I would draw designs of the outfits I wanted to wear and I desperately wanted to be a model. My mum put a lot of effort into making sure that my siblings and I always looked great when we left the house, and that made a real impression on me. Family friends used to say we were the best-dressed kids in town. My mother sold children’s clothing for a “party-plan” company.

I would go to the parties with her to model the clothing for her potential customers. It was my first catwalk experience and I loved it. I would help my mum pick out which outfits I would model and what order I would wear them in. She even paid for a professional modelling shoot for me and I treasured my first, real, printed image of me as “model”.

Serving my best “Fashion Model” look wearing Playground Children’s wear. Shot in 1994.

I developed a passion for putting together a good outfit. If there was a casual clothes day at school, I would spend weeks planning my “fit” for that one day.

In a newspaper interview I did in 1998 while on tour with The Flying Fruit Fly Circus, I stated that, although I enjoyed being in the Circus, “I want to get into the fashion industry, either as a designer or a model. Being a circus performer is not what I want to do in life.”

It’s funny how our passions and desires ebb and flow throughout our lives and our situations can lead us in directions we never expected.

Serving a much more mature “Fashion Model” look 20 years later. Shot by Adam Roberston Photography.

During the first year of my stripping career, I was out for lunch with my boyfriend one sunny Saturday afternoon in Fitzroy, and after a lovely meal we did a spot of shopping on Gertrude Street. We wandered into a small, vintage, fashion store that housed nothing but pre-loved one-off high-fashion pieces from labels like Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, Dior and Galliano.

The first piece I noticed when we entered the store was a little Vivienne Westwood, Gold Label, black, cropped sweater. I tried it on, it fit me perfectly, and I quickly threw down the $250 for it from the cash I’d made the night before. I had plenty of VW shoes, having been sponsored by Melissa for a few years, but this purchase gave me a thrilling jolt of pride in my new career as a stripper — it was the first piece of VW clothing that I’d ever been able to afford and I paid for it with stripper cash.

As we were walking out of the store, I noticed a stunning mini, green, Prada clutch. I pulled it down off the shelf and looked at it in awe. I had just spent most of the money I had on hand, so I couldn’t really justify buying the clutch as well. I looked at the sales assistant and said, “I’ll be back for this soon”. Now I had the drive to go to work that night and make some more cash.

On the way home, my boyfriend asked, “What should we do tonight? I’d love to get a movie and a bottle of wine and hang with you.” To which I replied, “I have to work; it’s Saturday night!” That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. He was extremely disappointed that I didn’t want to bail on work to spend time with him. I apologised but said that unless he was willing to pay me the $1,000 I’d be missing out on by not going to work, then he’d just have to accept it.

He understood. Then, after thinking about it for a minute, he delivered the line that would spark the thrill I felt trading sexual attention for high fashion:

“I don’t feel comfortable giving you money to stay home with me, but I will buy you the Prada handbag that you want.”

So I stayed home, had a lovely evening on the couch watching movies, drinking wine and having great sex. The next morning, we walked down to the vintage store and he bought me my first piece of Prada. The sales assistant recognised us from the day before and looked at me with a crooked smile as my boyfriend handed over the cash. There’s a distinct look women give to each other when they recognise and acknowledge that someone has used their feminine wiles to hustle a man. It’s a subtle way of saying, “Get it, girl!”

STATUS AND APPROVAL

“Fashion is very important. It is life-enhancing and, like everything that gives pleasure, it is worth doing well.”

— Vivienne Westwood

That wouldn’t be my last time in that vintage shop, nor the last piece of high-end fashion my boyfriend would buy me. I have so many fond memories of that little store — it didn’t last long on the Gertrude strip, but it was the first high-fashion store where I felt welcome and allowed in.

The only other high-fashion stores back then were on the “Paris End” of Collins Street or in Crown Casino on Southbank. They were all heavily guarded by security, and if you didn’t look like you had money when you walked in, the sales assistants would tear you down with a disapproving stare.

Serving my best “Julianne Moore for Bvlgari” look. Shot in 2012, wearing nothing but my Melissa heels hiding behind my Bvlgari handbag.

For my 30th birthday my boyfriend took me on another shopping trip. Despite being wealthy, he had no interest in “presenting” as such (apart from the penthouse apartment and the vintage Porsche). So when he walked me in into the Bvlgari store, past the security guards, in his jeans and t-shirt, I whispered over his shoulder, “I’m not sure this store is in our budget”. He ignored my insecurity and said, “Which handbag would you like? If a handbag is what you want for your birthday, then I’m happy to spend money on a timeless piece that you’ll have forever.” I chose the classic, black, Serpenti Forever over-the-shoulder clutch.

I was then able to joke with my friends that my handbag was worth more than my car!

(my car at the time was a piece of shit).

I eventually adopted my boyfriend’s past-time and got a kick out of walking into these stores in jeans and a T-shirt, being ignored, and then turning around and dropping stupid money on a piece while the snooty sales assistant just stood there looking stunned.

The first status piece of high-fashion I purchased on my own was a limited edition, Yayoi Kusama for Louis Vuitton tote bag, which I bought in 2012. I saw Kusama’s designs in the window while driving past the Louis Vuitton store on Collins Street one day and almost broke my nose on my car window trying to get a better look.

When I later went in to buy it, I had decided to look the part to get the full experience. I wore a nice skirt, kitten heels, and an Alannah Hill blouse, with my hair set in curls and just enough make-up on to feel fabulous. I walked into the store confidently and gave my details while I waited for an available sales host.

These stores rarely let you just wander around inside. They assign you a sales assistant that escorts you around to look at the pieces you’re interested in and answer any questions about pricing, sizing, etc. I took this opportunity to look at a few of the pieces from the Yayoi Kusama collection, even though I knew exactly what I wanted. I had my heart set on the red, Never Full, MM Monogram, Wave Dot, tote. It was stunning.

I remember the pride I felt as I walked out of the store with my large LV shopping bag housing a large brown box. But that was nothing compared to how I felt when I walked into the strip club change-room that weekend and dumped the brand-new LV tote down on the bench and watched as the heads turn, the smiles smirk, and the eyes of approval focused in my direction.

Serving my best “getting ready for a Saturday night of work” look. Prop’d up on my brand new LV bag, putting on my face. Shot in the dressing room of Spearmint Rhino in Melbourne in 2012, by Chase Paradise.

I felt like I had joined an elite club, and I had. The change-room was always scattered with expensive handbags, wallets, shoes and clothing. It was how strippers showed each other how hard they’d been working, and therefore how powerful they were. They did it with handbags and clothing because you can’t bring your house or car to work — and you usually can’t pay for those with cold, hard cash.

I was on such a “fashion high” from that experience that two weeks later I went out and bought my first pair of Prada sunglasses.

This would be the awakening of my inner fashionista and the beginning of my journey frolicking about in exchange for high fashion.

A.K.A Trading pussy for Prada.

The vintage Prada handbag that started it all.

I spent 12 years’ working in the sex industry in Australia and have many more stories to share about my experience. This piece is merely the tip of the iceberg. I am currently working on my memoir which will also include stories from my circus and burlesque careers. If you like my stories and want to help me afford more time to write, please sign up as a subscriber on my BuyMeACoffee account.

Written by The Strawberry Siren

Edited by Kiall Hildred

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The Strawberry Siren - Diaries of a Showgirl
The Strawberry Siren - Diaries of a Showgirl

Written by The Strawberry Siren - Diaries of a Showgirl

Former Miss Burlesque Australia & World, Miss Firm Australia, and Professor from Pussy Play Masterclass! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/strawberrysiren

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