Nancy (not her real name), a blonde woman who looks younger than her 35 years, recounts her decade-long career in nude dance clubs with a surprising lack of regret and even a touch of fondness. With a background that includes all-girls boarding schools and the University of Southern California (USC), her journey into the world of exotic dancing is unexpected. “I worked at about 20 clubs in California and New York State. I loved it,” she states, reflecting on her experiences in Women Nude Dance.
Nancy, who presents herself with a cheerleader-like demeanor and an approachable personality, is currently a student at Santa Barbara City College. While she is focused on her studies and works in marketing for a national company, she views her past profession as a viable option. “It’s a skill, something you can go back to if you need the money,” she explains.
During a conversation at a local coffee shop, the question arose: how does someone with her background reconcile the experience of performing nude onstage for strangers, and the often-unspoken activities that occur behind the scenes? “It was a little weird at first,” she admits, acknowledging the initial discomfort of entering the world of women nude dance.
Nancy’s path took an unexpected turn when she dropped out of USC after two years. “I dropped out of USC after two years” after majoring in environmental studies, she recounts. “I hated every second of it. My parents were very upset.” Adding to her turmoil, her boyfriend passed away from a brain hemorrhage after a night of partying while she was still enrolled. “It was horrible. I really loved him. I was so sad. I felt guilt. It was traumatic. That changed me.” This period of grief and change marked a significant shift in her life trajectory, leading her away from academia and toward a different path.
Returning to the East Coast, a chance encounter with a high school friend opened her eyes to the world of nude dancing. “I happened to meet a high school friend,” she said. “She pulled out a huge wad of cash” earned at a strip club. “I would never have considered it before. So I went to a club with her in upstate New York. It was great. I was 19, topless dancing.” She discovered a surprising dynamic while interacting with customers. “While sitting with customers, “All I had to do was tell people about my life and problems, and they gave me money. Half the time, you’re a therapist.” This realization highlighted an unexpected aspect of the job: the emotional labor involved in women nude dance.
The financial aspect was also immediately appealing. “The club paid me nothing. I paid the club $20 a night and got tips. Oh my God, I could easily make $400 a night for doing nothing except going up onstage,” she explains. The income potential for women in nude dance was substantial, especially considering the relatively simple act of performing onstage and engaging with customers who purchased drinks and dances. Nancy observed a common thread among her fellow dancers. The dancers, she found, “were all damaged” in one way or another, sometimes from childhood abuse. “But they didn’t always realize it.”
Upon returning to the West Coast, Nancy noticed a distinct difference in the atmosphere of clubs offering women nude dance. Nancy found the clubs “totally different from the East Coast strip clubs. The classy, nice places here are the nude clubs.” She began working for the Spearmint Rhino chain, a well-known group of “gentlemen’s” clubs. She started working the chain of Spearmint Rhino “Gentlemen’s” clubs, paying an $80 fee per night to dance, plus half the tips from lap dances. On successful nights, her earnings could be significant. On good nights, she’d take in $1,800 and bring home about $900 of it. However, this income came with its own set of costs and challenges. You had to tip the bouncers and other staffers, “or they’d make your life miserable or not help you. It was one of the things I hated.”
Despite the financial rewards and the camaraderie she found, the lifestyle of a nude dancer took its toll. And although Nancy enjoyed the life, “It’s exhausting. It drains you. It’s the life of a vampire, working at night. It’s your social life.” The nocturnal schedule and the emotional demands of the job impacted her personal relationships. She told of finding three boyfriends at the clubs over the years, but losing them when they became jealous over how she was making her money. The inherent challenges of dating while working in women nude dance were evident.
Nancy’s workplace was populated by a diverse group of women. Her fellow dancers included “lots of college girls, professionals, accountants, real smart women, and some real dummies.” She also noted the motivations that drove many women to this profession. The real money-makers, she said, “are the mothers, maybe working to get the kids into a private school or just to buy costly Christmas presents.” However, she also witnessed the darker side of the industry. One negative about the work was guilt from seeing older men throwing away their Social Security checks or the look on a guy’s face when he realizes he’d just dropped $800.
She recalls her time at the Santa Barbara Spearmint Rhino with some warmth. Nancy’s career included the Santa Barbara Spearmint Rhino, where “the people were really nice to work for. It was like a family, and I still have friends there.” Ultimately, Nancy decided to leave the world of women nude dance five years prior to the interview. But she left the stripping life five years ago. She became part of a class-action lawsuit against the Spearmint Rhino chain. She’s among claimants in a class-action suit filed by Spearmint Rhino chain dancers who will be sharing a recent $12.9-million settlement requiring that they be declared employees rather than independent contractors, be paid minimum wage, and be able to keep their tips. While the financial outcome of the lawsuit remained uncertain at the time of the interview, Nancy’s story provides a compelling glimpse into the complex realities of women nude dance and the lives of those who work in this industry. Since several hundred present and past dancers will divvy up the award, minus attorney fees, and their share will depend on the number of shifts each worked, Nancy isn’t sure how much she’ll receive. But she doesn’t expect to get rich.
