Sassy by name, Sassy by nature, I write to explode the myths which surround the lapdancing profession - standing up for the clubs, the girls and the customers. Its not always drinking champagne and playing with my tits - it can be hassle, hustling and hangovers. At heart I'm just a regular twenty-something posh cockney living in London who likes taking her clothes off...
Like most British industries, the stripping world has been hit by an influx of immigrants from the former Soviet Bloc states and other countries in the Eastern Europe diaspora over the past decade or so. They are easy to spot, as they all have long thick hair untouched and undamaged from years of bleaching and extensions, and look like a catwalk model. Luckily for this historically crappily accurate (ish) account of how they travelled across Europe just to show you their sweet little pussies, they didn’t all come at once, and certainly don’t all look the same….
The first wave were the Poles – tall, blonde & blue-eyed young ladies from Poland. As their nationality would suggest, the Poles made very good strippers as they looked excellent draped around a pole, your lap, or each other. Some even took the jingo reference seriously and became highly-proficient feature dancers with acrobatic pole-work shows.
A few years later, the Estonians and Latvians showed up, I think – a various hotch-potch of countries, bringing with them a kaleidoscope of varying languages and womanhood. Changing-rooms across the country were suddenly mini United Nations, and the women now on offer were of all sorts of beauty. Brunette, blondes, mousy, eyes of baize green, icy blues and deep russet browns. they smoked funny cigarettes, such as thin Vogues, and mostly came in pairs or cliques, chattering away in conversations peppered with gutteral pronunciations and the odd designer label ‘Mulberry’, ‘Dolce’ & of course, ‘Primarni’ as the big store on Oxford Street was freshly opened and was – and still is – a mecca for a girl looking for some cheap underwear.
Most recently, the Romanians have ventured onto British shores. The Romanian girls pushed a whole new kind of meaning to pushy and ridiculousy sexy. These girls are usually so drop-dead gorgeous you would think they were the underworlds harem. I’ve never seen such long, luscious hair, deep black with thick waves and curls. Eyes are a deep black, wide and open, and fix men with a hypnotic stare.
As a stripclub stereotype, the Eastern European Stripper (and I know that this is a broad bunch and that this post is a very broad generalisation), anyway, the Eastern European strippers can be said to be intoxicatingly beautiful, with willowy figures to die for, full breasts, and a work ethic that puts the average homegrown British stripper to shame. Imagine you are a customer. You go for a dance with a charming, pretty little girl from Devon, and you will probably spend £20-60 on her. It’s easier to say no, somehow. However, go for your next dance with an Eastern European stripper, and you will blow double that. Go with a Romanian that puts the exotic into exotic dancer, and you won’t even have dances – she will lead you straight into VIP, and avail you of at least £150. I truly wish I knew what they said, and how they did this, as I could then be writing this post from a nice beach-hut in the Caribbean. I suspect that the enduring fascination with Eastern European strippers is that so many of their kindred feature prominently in porn movies, so bits of them look erringly similar to what the average bloke jacked off to when he was younger, or even last night’s secretive fumble whilst the missus was putting the kids to bed…..