Prudes Rock, Lapdancing Doesn't
It's meant to be sophisticated to find lap dancing thrillingly sexy, but it's actually sad and exploitative.
In an interesting example of life claiming not to imitate art, the owner of a new lap-dancing club in London has announced that his establishment will definitely not emulate its TV namesake.
The club is called Bada Bing! like the table-dancing joint in The Sopranos. But, despite the implication, Bada Bing! will have nothing to do with the vice or corruption that spice the fictional club. Au contraire. When Bada Bing! opens its doors, it will be a model of clean-living - if sexy - respectability.
Lap dancing is frequently said to be the fastest growing sector of the "entertainment and leisure industry". There are now something like 200 clubs in the UK, ranging from upmarket Mayfair boudoirs popular with the stars to forlorn, downmarket provincial dives. Despite the wide variety of outlets in business, though, one defining feature unites them all. No lap-dancing club is ever, under any circumstances, "sleazy".
Owners speak as one when they declare that their establishments are stylish, sophisticated and have nothing whatsoever to do with vice. For that matter, they have hardly anything to do with even sex. They are merely smart purveyors of "modern entertainment".
When lap dancing first hit Britain, some observers offered the view that it was nothing new - and in a sense they were right. It is just stripping by another name. But it can legitimately claim one remarkable innovation - namely, the invention of a branch of the sex industry considered not the slightest bit exploitative, nor remotely damaging to women.
In pre-lap-dancing days, there was only one exception to the rule that stripping was sad for all concerned. That exemption applied to female celebrities. Madonna's book, Sex, and Sharon Stone's sensation in Basic Instinct were widely received as evidence of the stars' power, as opposed to debasement.
When Halle Berry agreed to appear topless in Swordfish, reports that she was paid an extra $500,000 for the favour dramatically enhanced her status. If a glimpse of her tits was calculated to be worth half a million, then Halle Berry must be quite something.
But non-famous women who got paid for taking their clothes off provoked the opposite conclusion. They were thought of as nothing. There were exceptions, of course - Page 3 lovelies like Sam Fox or Linda Lusardi were the nation's darlings. But they were saved by the fact of their celebrity - and their decision to keep the bottom half on. In the main, strippers who went all the way were cheap.
But with the advent of lap dancing, girls no longer have to be Hollywood stars to enjoy exemption from slapper status. The only discernible explanation for this public change of heart is that lap dancers - like stars - get paid a prodigious amount of money for taking their clothes off. When girls who strip for City bankers - bankers in every sense of the word - are earning as much as their audience, their job is suddenly described as cool, sassy and empowering.
Now that lap dancers are minting it, it is almost impossible to express any reservations, let alone venture the ludicrous suggestion that they are being exploited. To admit to any discomfort about lap dancing is to be cast as a sexually uptight prude - someone who probably "has a problem" with nudity.
For women especially, the ability to find lap dancing thrillingly sexy, or a scream - or failing that, at least a coolly nonchalant bore - is an acid test of social sophistication. Once Sadie Frost and Sophie Dahl had been seen sashaying out of a club, the matter was decided. We all loved lap dancing. "Pornography rocks", as Sophie Dahl's T-shirt declared.
Hypocrisy involving sex has traditionally meant public disapproval of an activity, but private participation. Lap dancing's interesting achievement has been to turn this rule on its head. It makes hypocrites of us, but rather unusual ones - for despite the breezy consensus indulging clubs like Bada Bing!, I don't believe it is always sincere.
When Jamie Theakston was caught paying a lap dancer for a "lewd sex act", his involvement may have come as a surprise. But the fact that his stripper doubled up as a prostitute caused no sensation. For all the clubs' protestations, we know perfectly well that "extras" are often part of the service - meaning that the "fastest growing sector of the leisure industry" could well be the high street brothel. And for all our urbane sophistication, a T-shirt proclaiming "Prostitution rocks" would not go down so well.
Lap dancers may earn good money, but we cannot be so foolish as to think this means they live like Hollywood stars. A recent tribunal involving a dancer sacked for being pregnant exposed truly repulsive sexism as the typical workplace norm. But what else should we have expected from men who make a living off strippers.
If all our old concerns about integrity and exploitation were nonsense - and all it boiled down to in the end was what strippers earned - our ambition for our daughters would be a successful career in stripping. And it is not.
comment@guardian.co.uk
Lap dancing is frequently said to be the fastest growing sector of the "entertainment and leisure industry". There are now something like 200 clubs in the UK, ranging from upmarket Mayfair boudoirs popular with the stars to forlorn, downmarket provincial dives. Despite the wide variety of outlets in business, though, one defining feature unites them all. No lap-dancing club is ever, under any circumstances, "sleazy".
Owners speak as one when they declare that their establishments are stylish, sophisticated and have nothing whatsoever to do with vice. For that matter, they have hardly anything to do with even sex. They are merely smart purveyors of "modern entertainment".
When lap dancing first hit Britain, some observers offered the view that it was nothing new - and in a sense they were right. It is just stripping by another name. But it can legitimately claim one remarkable innovation - namely, the invention of a branch of the sex industry considered not the slightest bit exploitative, nor remotely damaging to women.
In pre-lap-dancing days, there was only one exception to the rule that stripping was sad for all concerned. That exemption applied to female celebrities. Madonna's book, Sex, and Sharon Stone's sensation in Basic Instinct were widely received as evidence of the stars' power, as opposed to debasement.
When Halle Berry agreed to appear topless in Swordfish, reports that she was paid an extra $500,000 for the favour dramatically enhanced her status. If a glimpse of her tits was calculated to be worth half a million, then Halle Berry must be quite something.
But non-famous women who got paid for taking their clothes off provoked the opposite conclusion. They were thought of as nothing. There were exceptions, of course - Page 3 lovelies like Sam Fox or Linda Lusardi were the nation's darlings. But they were saved by the fact of their celebrity - and their decision to keep the bottom half on. In the main, strippers who went all the way were cheap.
But with the advent of lap dancing, girls no longer have to be Hollywood stars to enjoy exemption from slapper status. The only discernible explanation for this public change of heart is that lap dancers - like stars - get paid a prodigious amount of money for taking their clothes off. When girls who strip for City bankers - bankers in every sense of the word - are earning as much as their audience, their job is suddenly described as cool, sassy and empowering.
Now that lap dancers are minting it, it is almost impossible to express any reservations, let alone venture the ludicrous suggestion that they are being exploited. To admit to any discomfort about lap dancing is to be cast as a sexually uptight prude - someone who probably "has a problem" with nudity.
For women especially, the ability to find lap dancing thrillingly sexy, or a scream - or failing that, at least a coolly nonchalant bore - is an acid test of social sophistication. Once Sadie Frost and Sophie Dahl had been seen sashaying out of a club, the matter was decided. We all loved lap dancing. "Pornography rocks", as Sophie Dahl's T-shirt declared.
Hypocrisy involving sex has traditionally meant public disapproval of an activity, but private participation. Lap dancing's interesting achievement has been to turn this rule on its head. It makes hypocrites of us, but rather unusual ones - for despite the breezy consensus indulging clubs like Bada Bing!, I don't believe it is always sincere.
When Jamie Theakston was caught paying a lap dancer for a "lewd sex act", his involvement may have come as a surprise. But the fact that his stripper doubled up as a prostitute caused no sensation. For all the clubs' protestations, we know perfectly well that "extras" are often part of the service - meaning that the "fastest growing sector of the leisure industry" could well be the high street brothel. And for all our urbane sophistication, a T-shirt proclaiming "Prostitution rocks" would not go down so well.
Lap dancers may earn good money, but we cannot be so foolish as to think this means they live like Hollywood stars. A recent tribunal involving a dancer sacked for being pregnant exposed truly repulsive sexism as the typical workplace norm. But what else should we have expected from men who make a living off strippers.
If all our old concerns about integrity and exploitation were nonsense - and all it boiled down to in the end was what strippers earned - our ambition for our daughters would be a successful career in stripping. And it is not.
comment@guardian.co.uk
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