8 Reasons Why “Secrets of a Hipster Hooker” is a Steaming Pile of Horseshit

August 25, 2008 at 5:54 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

OK, I’m just not buying it.  Here are some of my observations, followed by some very astute observations others have made.

(1)  Trolling bars for clients just seems so…quaint.  In certain places like Vegas, or Harry’s and the Mandarin Bar in London, there’s still a thriving bar girl scene, but, being bi-coastal, and having been to some of the places mentioned, I just don’t see it.  I mean, horny private equity dudes get drunk fashion editors to fuck them for free all the time.  It’s possible that, sometime after I left New York in ’07, it became fashionable to pay them $3,000 for cab fare home, but I rather doubt it (note to self:  if this is true, move back to New York ASAP).

(2) The Madam.  Madams tend to be cut from the same cloth.  They’re former working girls.  They’re hard.  They’re shrewd.  They conduct thorough background checks on prospective applicants, and would never, ever, ever in a million years invite a perfect stranger into their homes for interviews, especially a fucking writer researching the interior lives of escorts in the wake of Hookergate ’08.  An incall apartment, sure, but not the inner sanctum.  No way.  Which leads me to

(3) (Courtesy of Jenny DeMilo) A Madam’s phone rings off the hook 24/7.  There’s new johns, repeat clients, girls calling out, girls calling in, girls flaking out at the last minute, girls to call to replace the girl that flaked out at the last minute…you get the idea.  It’s kind of like being an air traffic controller. It’s just not possible to moonlight.  And while we’re on the topic of Madams…

(4) They take a 50% commission.  For smart hookers, it works like this.  You start out with an agency, and then you realize after a few months that, for the commission your sociopathic/narcissistic/borderline personality-disordered Madam takes away from you, you could use the exact same tools she’s using to garner clients (hint: technology), and keep 100% of the money for yourself.  It’s like one independent escort said in an article I read years ago:  “I do 100% of the fucking, therefore I’m entitled to 100% of the proceeds.”  Why would anybody in her right mind ever go back to handing over half?

That’s simple.  She wouldn’t.  Again, thanks for being the first to point that out, Jenny.

(4) Tits.  In the article, our intrepid reporter Jessica is shut out of the four-digit range because of her “small tits”.  Manhattan men are into the wan, waifish, 14 year old boy look.  In my experience, smaller tits = higher hourly rate.  Big tits may bring in more revenue in strip clubs, but in the realm of high end escorting, it doesn’t matter.  Big, small, real, fake – doesn’t matter.  They just need to be youthful-looking (no flapjacks) and not grossly surgically disfigured (Frankenboobs).

(5) A punk rocker who wants to be fed dog food.  Who the hooker knows by his stage name, but not his real name.   Ummm…….Iggy Pop, “I Wanna Be Your Dog”.  Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.  Come on now.  That is just lazy, girlfriend.  (This was the discovery of another commenter on radaronline.com – thanks for giving me an excuse to rock out to it on Youtube!).

(6) Gold bars on the advice of an accountant.  Uh, no.  That’s like, the hugest red flag you could raise with FinCEN.  Might as well don a t-shirt that reads “Hi, I’m laundering money” and run victory laps around the local District Attorney’s office.

(7)  The author says “Heather, Kelly, and Olivia are all dues-paying members of the International Sex Worker Foundation for Art, Culture, and Education.” Problem is, the ISWF is a non-profit 501(c)3 organization funded solely by donations.  Also, its website has been inactive since 2006.*

*Courtesy of Jenny DeMilo, who is the shiznit.

Anybody else have other quacking canards they want to point out?

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The Higher Moral Ground

August 25, 2008 at 5:31 am (Uncategorized) (, , , )

My ex-boyfriend had a huge problem with my whoring (and that’s no small part of why I broke things off with him).  To him, prostitutes were the embodiment of human depravity, on a par with murderers and crack addicts.

“And the clients…?” I asked.  “What are they?  Totally above-board?  Paragons of moral virtue?”

“Well, that’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Men are wired differently.  I could fuck a woman, use her like a piece of gym equipment, and not feel a damn thing afterward.”

“Well, I could fuck a man, use him like an ATM, and not feel a damn thing afterward, and be richer for it.”

He veered left and crossed Lombard, leaving me standing on the corner.

Yes, it’s a good thing I called it quits.

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Apparently, I’m cool now.

August 24, 2008 at 9:58 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

Hooker chic is all the rage right now.  From The Secret Diary of a Call Girl, to Radar Magazine’s Secrets of a Hipster Hooker, to Soderbergh’s upcoming “The Girlfriend Experience”, America just can’t seem to get enough of high class prostitution.  So much so that, as Susannah Breslin recently noted, Hookers are the New Black.

So, how does it feel to find myself so trendy all of a sudden?

Pretty fucking stupid, actually.

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