After I slink out of the switched-off auto doors at the end of my shift, I have to pass through the survivors of the night: girls in tight dresses with their shoes in their hands, mascara starting to migrate, sitting in gutters eating McDonalds; men in patterned T-shirts and white chisel-toed shoes with pies in their fists, staggering around blearily as I scuttle up the street to wait for a cab and the sun to come up. The gray light makes every face haggard. People topple out of the nightclub next door, and the security guard nods to me in recognition. Waiting on the corner for my lift, I’m scared of the men sloping past me. Every night the clothes I wear are further from my uniform: jeans and ugly t-shirts, big jackets. I take my makeup off before I go outside. The rules on the corner are not club rules.It's hard to know what to say about this stirring and compelling memoir on working as a hostess in an Australian strip club by Sam George-Allen. Hard to know what to say other than 'read it' at least. With terrific observations, empathy and lyrical prose, it's a fascinating read.
You can read 'On the Hierarchies of an Australian Strip Club' online at LitHub.
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