Siobhan
"You're going to change your stage name...something less harsh, something easy for customers to understand, something that reminds you to be nice....Walk in, go straight to the bar, get a shot of hard liquor, down it, then go backstage and start getting ready. Do your mirror work, be sure you are fully in character before you get on the floor. Once you are on the floor wear blinders!!! This is crucial, do NOT look at what the other dancers are doing- do you hear me? Do NOT ( I nodded, confused, a lil scared). You do not have to do Lap dances. You run your show, especially in the VIP, it's your show..remember that." Erin did her best to prepare me for the Strip club scene in Vegas, "The owners, the bouncers, everyone that runs that club is Italian. They'll remind you of your stepfather and your uncles...they are "Family". They take care of their dancers. Before those fucking whores went to court to change the laws, there was no way any customer or dancer could get away with contact. NO WAY, not in that club. Bouncers would fuck up the customers and dancers would fuck up the whores. But, those 4 bitches that went to court and had the laws changed ruined it for us. Now a dancer is responsible, the club can't be fined or shut down for contact, or a dancer breaking laws. If a dancer get's caught, it's all on her. Make sure they know you are not that kind of dancer, tell them I vouche for you, they'll look out for you. They don't take tips, they don't hustle. You pay the club 15% of what you make... ". Erin's coaching helped tremendously, but, still nothing could have prepared me for the Vegas scene and they way it would shake my conditioning to it's core.
"Erin" was one of my best, sister- friend, wise woman, witch, protector teachers I ever had. She was the daughter of a single mom and took pity on my single motherhood. We bonded when she realized I worked with spirit, was also a technically trained dancer, was an artist and had serious boundaries. We were approximately the same age. She was on her way out of the industry as I was just coming back in. She was an edgy, radically fierce, brunette, Witch, with long, straight black hair, intense eyes, a small chest and a nationally famous, perfect ass. Outside of the club she looked a lot like Courtney Cox. In the club, her fierceness made her look more powerful than any TV actress. She was the technically trained dancer other dancers ignored customers to watch on stage. She is, to date, (including youtube) the greatest pole dancer I've ever seen, both technically and energetically. Years before, when Erin started, she was making more money strictly doing stage in Vegas and Az than anyone was making doing Lap Dances.
Tara, the dancer turned house mom, of the Bikini bar I hated and loved, recommended I introduce myself to Erin, based on what we had in common as artists. Looking back on it, I think the real reason had to do with the way I grilled Tara and the manager the night I was hired. I was such a prudish stripper, I didn't want to touch or be touched for a living. It's one of the reasons I didn't work in the therapeutic massage industry. I had my good girl conditioning and Detroit runaway kid mentality to protect. I asked them repeatedly if it was absolutely true that tops stayed on and dancers weren't touching customers. I had just been "table dancer shocked" upon entering the 7th Veil and witnessing my first nude club and lap dance scenario and had to make sure this place wasn't going to expect from me what I saw in there (which wasn't actually that bad looking back on it now). I explained that I was accustomed to security guards protecting me from anyone who tried to break the 3 ft. rule and that I promptly quit any club that allowed dancers to obviously solicit for prostitution. Tara knew I had been out of the strip club loop for awhile and that this was my first experience in the industry since moving to L.A. 1 1/2 years before. I think she knew Erin would help me become acclimated and learn to make money in L.A.
No one could be more guarded than Erin, if she appreciated your presence, you were family, if not, you were "the last dancer". She was bitter over the changes taking place in the industry and didn't trust any of the new dancers who were likely to be taking her money with their cheap lap dances. She had heard customers use the line, "the last dancer let me ________" one too many times. More than once, I heard her yell at the top of her lungs, "I am not the last dancer!!!" and when the house mom asked for her house fee, she would say, "Ask the last dancer for it, she has all my money!" in her harshest, cigarette smoker voice.
Her walls were up the first night we met. I have big eyes that can make me look like a deer in headlights at times and I looked like a young, naive, stupid dancer to her. Tara told me to look for Erin in the back because she was also a performance artist, so, I opened with something like, " I hear you're an artist too..." Erin snarled at that and continued pulling her clothes out of the locker, transforming into her Clark Kent bespectacled, alternative artist looking, true self.
Over our next few encounters backstage, I explained to her that I had come from working in Film as an AD, - to which she responded, " hmmm yeah, my ex Directed a Music Video, that industry is full of slime..."
I explained that I came to L.A. to transfer my theatre talents as a Director/ storyteller to film. That I felt called and was on a mission. She nodded half interested, this was nothing new, she'd heard it all before. In L.A. everyone's an Actor or a Director, everyone has a Screenplay, her look said, "Nope- nothing new here." I shared stories of my time dancing Burlesque & my work pushing social assumptions as a Performance artist. That peaked her interest, slightly. Her look changed to that investigative stare genius ADHD kid's have. One night, after watching me work the floor and make no money on it, she asked about my experience in the strip industry. When I told her my previous experience was at a Topless bar in NOLA where we had to remain 3 ft away from the customers at all times (thank goodness) and at a club a dancer named Destiny sent me to in Houston, that also had the beloved 3 ft. rule and that once, I danced as a feature at Scores, an upscale club in NY. As a feature there, I didn't have to mingle with the customers at all, though I could have banked, had I been single instead of a single mom and I allowed photos to be taken of me and sold with my autograph. Once she felt confident that my naivete' wasn't mental retardation or an act and that I really was that clueless, she took pity on me and / or saw a sister in me (probably both). I could see her taking note of the spiritually symbolic jewelry I wore and the Arnica Montana salve I was slathering on my knees ...slowly Erin's ice was melting and she was preparing to take me on as a little sister.
It was Erin who noticed I was doing energy work for free instead of pulling in tips on the floor. Sure, be a good witch, but, don't let it fuck with your money. If they aren't paying you, in that environment, they aren't valuing you - period. And if they aren't valuing you they should still pay you, even more. We were there to make money- hello! One night, she dragged me away from an energy vampire and pushed me in front of one of her well trained regulars, "Here, this is Zora, give her money now." He obeyed, just like that. I didn't have to do anything but accept the cash. She pulled me toward the next one, and in a club whisper said, "OK, this one wants to hear you talk about your upbringing, tell him your grandmother is from Italy". She sat me down at a table with a man who looked Italian-American and went off to do her stage. I made an easy hundred, siting and talking about my alleged Italian grandmother. When it was my turn to go on stage, Erin came back to the table, took her regular by the arm, sat him near the stage, did a dance for him and took money directly out of his wallet. She tipped me with some of it, wrapped the rest around her rubber band on her ankle and gave it back to him emptied of all it's cash.
"Erin" was one of my best, sister- friend, wise woman, witch, protector teachers I ever had. She was the daughter of a single mom and took pity on my single motherhood. We bonded when she realized I worked with spirit, was also a technically trained dancer, was an artist and had serious boundaries. We were approximately the same age. She was on her way out of the industry as I was just coming back in. She was an edgy, radically fierce, brunette, Witch, with long, straight black hair, intense eyes, a small chest and a nationally famous, perfect ass. Outside of the club she looked a lot like Courtney Cox. In the club, her fierceness made her look more powerful than any TV actress. She was the technically trained dancer other dancers ignored customers to watch on stage. She is, to date, (including youtube) the greatest pole dancer I've ever seen, both technically and energetically. Years before, when Erin started, she was making more money strictly doing stage in Vegas and Az than anyone was making doing Lap Dances.
Tara, the dancer turned house mom, of the Bikini bar I hated and loved, recommended I introduce myself to Erin, based on what we had in common as artists. Looking back on it, I think the real reason had to do with the way I grilled Tara and the manager the night I was hired. I was such a prudish stripper, I didn't want to touch or be touched for a living. It's one of the reasons I didn't work in the therapeutic massage industry. I had my good girl conditioning and Detroit runaway kid mentality to protect. I asked them repeatedly if it was absolutely true that tops stayed on and dancers weren't touching customers. I had just been "table dancer shocked" upon entering the 7th Veil and witnessing my first nude club and lap dance scenario and had to make sure this place wasn't going to expect from me what I saw in there (which wasn't actually that bad looking back on it now). I explained that I was accustomed to security guards protecting me from anyone who tried to break the 3 ft. rule and that I promptly quit any club that allowed dancers to obviously solicit for prostitution. Tara knew I had been out of the strip club loop for awhile and that this was my first experience in the industry since moving to L.A. 1 1/2 years before. I think she knew Erin would help me become acclimated and learn to make money in L.A.
No one could be more guarded than Erin, if she appreciated your presence, you were family, if not, you were "the last dancer". She was bitter over the changes taking place in the industry and didn't trust any of the new dancers who were likely to be taking her money with their cheap lap dances. She had heard customers use the line, "the last dancer let me ________" one too many times. More than once, I heard her yell at the top of her lungs, "I am not the last dancer!!!" and when the house mom asked for her house fee, she would say, "Ask the last dancer for it, she has all my money!" in her harshest, cigarette smoker voice.
Her walls were up the first night we met. I have big eyes that can make me look like a deer in headlights at times and I looked like a young, naive, stupid dancer to her. Tara told me to look for Erin in the back because she was also a performance artist, so, I opened with something like, " I hear you're an artist too..." Erin snarled at that and continued pulling her clothes out of the locker, transforming into her Clark Kent bespectacled, alternative artist looking, true self.
Over our next few encounters backstage, I explained to her that I had come from working in Film as an AD, - to which she responded, " hmmm yeah, my ex Directed a Music Video, that industry is full of slime..."
I explained that I came to L.A. to transfer my theatre talents as a Director/ storyteller to film. That I felt called and was on a mission. She nodded half interested, this was nothing new, she'd heard it all before. In L.A. everyone's an Actor or a Director, everyone has a Screenplay, her look said, "Nope- nothing new here." I shared stories of my time dancing Burlesque & my work pushing social assumptions as a Performance artist. That peaked her interest, slightly. Her look changed to that investigative stare genius ADHD kid's have. One night, after watching me work the floor and make no money on it, she asked about my experience in the strip industry. When I told her my previous experience was at a Topless bar in NOLA where we had to remain 3 ft away from the customers at all times (thank goodness) and at a club a dancer named Destiny sent me to in Houston, that also had the beloved 3 ft. rule and that once, I danced as a feature at Scores, an upscale club in NY. As a feature there, I didn't have to mingle with the customers at all, though I could have banked, had I been single instead of a single mom and I allowed photos to be taken of me and sold with my autograph. Once she felt confident that my naivete' wasn't mental retardation or an act and that I really was that clueless, she took pity on me and / or saw a sister in me (probably both). I could see her taking note of the spiritually symbolic jewelry I wore and the Arnica Montana salve I was slathering on my knees ...slowly Erin's ice was melting and she was preparing to take me on as a little sister.
It was Erin who noticed I was doing energy work for free instead of pulling in tips on the floor. Sure, be a good witch, but, don't let it fuck with your money. If they aren't paying you, in that environment, they aren't valuing you - period. And if they aren't valuing you they should still pay you, even more. We were there to make money- hello! One night, she dragged me away from an energy vampire and pushed me in front of one of her well trained regulars, "Here, this is Zora, give her money now." He obeyed, just like that. I didn't have to do anything but accept the cash. She pulled me toward the next one, and in a club whisper said, "OK, this one wants to hear you talk about your upbringing, tell him your grandmother is from Italy". She sat me down at a table with a man who looked Italian-American and went off to do her stage. I made an easy hundred, siting and talking about my alleged Italian grandmother. When it was my turn to go on stage, Erin came back to the table, took her regular by the arm, sat him near the stage, did a dance for him and took money directly out of his wallet. She tipped me with some of it, wrapped the rest around her rubber band on her ankle and gave it back to him emptied of all it's cash.