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.....
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.....
4 comments:
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LOL at the advert.
Did it find its way here automatically.
I think the saddest thing I've discovered on this blog is the women with bad hair, and even bald spots!
SassyLapdancer! Stop right now! Preserve your hair, what's left of it, at all costs! Better to have a passable head of hair than none at all, and what is more pleasing to a woman than her hair? Better to be poor with a fair head of tired frizzly hair, than less poor with bald patches!
Never bleach or perm or extend it again!
Ive just noticed the hair loss ad... How funny! My first spam advert and it's about us pretty little things going bald!
As a customer on several occasions, 3 or 4, of strip clubs, I think I'm qualified to say that, firstly, the dances aren't usually that sexy, and secondly that somehow English girls "do it" for me. It's not what I expected at all.
I expected physical exhilaration from seeing gorgeous women up close, or just from some erotic dancing.
But for some reason, perhaps the removal of the usual taboos, it doesn't work out like that. The dancing is a very matter-of-fact experience, almost mundane. Instead, I emerged from the club euphorically happy, and very drunk, having been overwhelmed just through the pleasant attention of a pair of girls from Kent. It did me the world of good at the time.
Bar actual physical contact of various sorts, which won't be happening (to me, at least, thankfully for the remnant of my immortal soul,) in a London club, most satisfaction came from the prolonged attention of an attractive woman. Not of a perfect woman, but of a woman who didn't have anything about her which was an annoying turn off. So, just from the company, in itself, of a talkative and attractive woman.
The actual dancing was all anticipation, embarrassment, and boredom. In Spearmint Rhino's, I got dances from several perfect-bodied East European women. One I particularly remember was called Natasha. Perhaps on a subtle level this was a turn on. But, in general, it was more impressive than anything else. In another environment, an office for instance, a moment of eye contact, an unexpected brushing past, any contact with a hint of flirtation, is hugely secy. Sexier than the better looking Natasha in a strip club sitting completely naked on my knee, looking like a statue of Aphrodite, the platonic ideal of beauty. It's strange. I was bored, jaded almost, straight away... And yet, I just couldn't say 'no'. Or rather, I could, but not if a woman insisted. I was soon broke.
A lot of the dances there were purchased from women who I didn't find attractive (though they weren't ugly, obviously) but who were very insistent - and I didn't want to offend them.
It was a pretty ruthless environment, in which nice girls would tend to come last. And I guess ruthless customers would see their money go farther.
As to my fantasies, though perhaps I'm peculiar, but my fantasies have all been about the English girls I came across. The slow intoxication which builds up from a bit of feminine attention. The conversation and good spirits - the having someone make a fuss of you. This was something many of the girls from abroad found difficult - lacking common cultural reference points, perhaps, - or didn't bother with.
THE POINT OF MY COMMENT IS: That they may win more custom, but they're not able to do the job so effectively, all other things being equal...
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