Home Blast From the Past What really happens in the dressing room

What really happens in the dressing room

photo by Honey sfhoneypot.blogspot.com

Tits and Sass loves Lily Burana‘s piece in Salon this week, When We Were Strippers.

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Kat has been stripping since 2003 and blogging about it since 2009. She works at a club next to the Chips Ahoy factory. Sometimes it smells like cookies but usually it just smells like cheap body spray. She doesn't think it's very funny to make fun of deceased prostitutes and doesn't see why you can't just stick with a good old-fashioned dick joke. You can find her on twitter. You may send mail to katstories [at] gmail.com but she must insist that you don't send her any form of poetry whatsoever.

3 COMMENTS

  1. WOW. This article so takes me back. I danced in the late 90s/early 2Ks and one of my strongest memories was being taken under the wings of the two top girls at the club from Day 1. They adopted me, they taught me, they tutored me, they took zero shit, and they never for a second let themselves be degraded by it and made sure I knew how to do the same — and that I had the right and an obligation to.

    For awhile, until the club turned to shit (as unfortunately, they so often do), most of those of us who worked there really had that sense of supportive camaraderie. It was real.

    “There was something reassuring about slumping onto a dressing room stool on a bad night, tossing a fistful of sweaty singles on the red counter and groaning, “Oh my God,” and a girl inspecting her tan lines at the full-length mirror would roll her eyes and say, “I know, right?” So true and it’s what got me through it.

  2. Hee hee–look at all those platforms!

    Couldn’t be happier to get the Tits and Sass Seal of Approval! If I knew how, I’d create a little Make It Rain .gif and shower you all with my virtual gratitude. <3

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