in search of strippers and cocaine

It was the day I became a stripper. Yes I went to a private girls school but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I never thought it would turn out this way, but I had no choice. It just kind of...happened. I was unprepared for the events that were to unfold. I had been told they’d all be watching intently, but I didn’t expect the reaction they’d give me. Laughter? Really? Was that necessary? Sure my outfit was a little small for me but there was no reason to snigger! I thought the venue was a little too classy for that kind of reception. It was the Sandringham Yacht Club for heaven’s sake!


Humiliated. Mortified. Embarassed. Horrified. Violated. Exposed. Why? All thanks to a stupidly short dress on a runway.

No it wasn’t on the stages of Goldfingers but it might as well have been, I was practically wearing nothing. It was a parade for the World Sailing Cup and I unfortunately decided I didn’t need to try on this one dress of the eight changes I had that day. I had assumed it was a top to be teamed with shorts...I would pay for this decision dearly. All was going splendidly on the runway, not a problem in sight....until the dress. I was running a bit late before the show with hair and makeup so I only tried on half of my outfits. DAMMIT!!!

It comes to half way through the show when I first lay eyes on the “dress”. “Where are the shorts to go with it?” I ask innocently. “There aren’t any, unless you have a pair (implied ‘lol’)” replies my dresser. I struggle into this tiny purple singlet and stretch it over my uncovered butt. Now here’s the trouble with catwalk modelling: you have to wear a skin coloured g-string so it doesn’t show under the clothes, which means if you’re wearing a short dress then nothing is left to the imagination.

Here I was, in this tiny little “dress”, stepping out onto the runway. All was fine until I began walking and the dress began to creep up. That’s when I started trying to sneakily pull it down in the hopes I’d be subtle enough that it looked normal. But out flew my butt cheeks and cue the hysterics. Everyone at this ladies luncheon started laughing! I, on the other hand, began to resemble a tomato. I have never gone so red. I started getting tears in my eyes I was so embarrassed! I had to walk a good 50 metres in front of these women and cameras while everyone laughed.

Eventually I got back to the safety of the change room after what seemed like an hour of humiliation and remembered I had about four more outfit changes. This was my conversation with myself: “I must face them again. Change of outfit this time! Oh crap. What’s this? Change of shoes too? Oh no. I don’t know these shoes. They look kind of big. No time! Must wear them!”

So out I go, back onto the catwalk, pose and begin to walk. Off comes a shoe. I get back into it and keep walking but stumble. SCREW THIS!!!! I lean down, take of the shoes, lift them into the air and keep walking. Yeah bitches, I got this.

My story seemed so great and embarrassing until my poor friend Olivia had her entire boob fall out in front of the lifestyle party three days later. I’m sure she picked up some lusty sailors that night ;)

THE DRESS!!!!!!!!


*photography by Travis Burns