I think back to my student days. I studied drama at the University of Stellenbosch, not because I had an incredible talent, but because of an English high school ­teacher who introduced me to the wonder of theatre. The stage, the wings, waiting for the audience to settle, your entrance and then: magic! I knew I wanted to study drama, or rather, study the magic of anticipation. My mother had other ideas – a nurse, a flight attendant.

But not for me carrying bedpans or being a glorified waitress! Not to mention the fact that I hate air turbulence. A long road followed to the Lollipop Lounge. Owner of a lapdance venue, actress and winner of Survivor. A road less travelled by many young women.

Three young girls came to see me today at the club. To be wait­resses, to earn cash, to make ends meet. I studied a brunette as she walked in. She was on heels, with a tight bum and leggings that ­showed off the bum even better.

“I’m sorry,” I start, “I don’t see a waitress. I’m seeing a showgirl.”

She giggled: “I can bellydance!”

I hear my receptionist snigger in the background. She knows me by now. My receptionist was a brilliant dancer herself in the day. “Dancers make 10 ­times more money than waitresses. Do you want to make money or really good money?” I ask, studying her closely. “We can train you as a dancer. If you don’t like it you can always change to a waitress!”

This is my normal speech. There is another option. Where in life do two options come your way? Two ways of making money in this day and age, where students storm universities to register. A career. “I’d like to give it a try,” the young brunette with the tight bum smiles.

She comes in the same night to start her new career as a dancer, but throws in the towel. Taking off her clothes is not for her. That’s ­fine. She will become a waitress and stand on the sideline watching dancers make 10 times more money. She will respect those brave girls. She will always remember that she tried to be an exotic dancer. She will be proud she had the guts to try. She will tell her grandchildren many years from now and they’ll say, “Wow, Grandma! We can’t believe it. It’s so cool.”

Truly a long and winding road.

Love
GiGi
xxx

But back to our year end-party. We crowned the Best Waitress of 2011, the most Promising Young Dancer and Miss Personality. And then the announcement everyone was waiting for. The Top Show girl of the year…. LoLa.
I am so glad for Lola . We have come a long way. In the beginning of my career I was doing endless competitions and one of these events was called Miss Golden G-string at a club called Monroe’s in Sunnyside Pretoria. The clubs used to phone my agent to book exotic dancers for these competitions to tease and lure “normal girls” from the audience to take part in the raunchy happenings on stage. LoLa was a tall teenager with long, long legs and blonde locks that fell to her waist. She was angelic. She entered the competition and that was the birth of a true showgirl. I was so proud on Thursday night. She deserved all the praise.

The Lollipop Lounge was packed. We entertained our suppliers, our bookkeepers, our loyal customers and through all the jollification a brunette with a strong English accent rubbed up against me. “I am a 29 year old strip club virgin” she piped. “I love the atmosphere, the girls are so gorgeous. This is my first strip club visit ever and it’s the most exciting evening ever.” I looked at her in amazement. “Your first time ever?”  “Yes, but not my last! “She swayed her hips suggestively as she turned her back on me.  I smiled. We must be doing something right.

One of my customers came past. Hugged me and whispered…”This has been one of my most difficult years ever. The Lollipop Lounge was my lifesaver.” Yes it’s been a long tough year. The neon signs on the roof caught alight one freezing cold night middle of June at 5h00  in the morning and I raced towards the club. I arrived and stood in amazement as the firemen already on the roof put out the electric fire.  We were lucky. My security guard got rewarded for his swift response. We must count our blessings.

Have a great festive season and may 2012 be the best year ever!!

Love
GiGi

It was our year end function on Thursday night. The end of the year at the Lollipop Lounge was met with double standards. On the one side I will be relieved of the late nights. The ever flowing stream of invoices that always needs to be paid. The endless listening to all the stories and drama that only women working closely together can create. The overload of admin as the salaries and bonuses were paid. From my side the end of the year meant rest and switch off. For many of my employees it means their way of making a living stopped dead in its tracks for 3 weeks. For my floor staff it meant family time. They will be traveling far to get to the ones they love and by the first week of January they will take the route back to the Lollipop Lounge. Hopefully rejuvenated, ready to tackle the bulls by the horns.

But back to our year end-party. We crowned the Best Waitress of 2011, the most Promising Young Dancer and Miss Personality. And then the announcement everyone was waiting for. The Top Show girl of the year….LoLa. I am so glad for Lola . We have come a long way. In the beginning of my career I was doing endless competitions and one of these events was called Miss Golden G-string at a club called Monroe’s in Sunnyside Pretoria. The clubs used to phone my agent to book exotic dancers for these competitions to tease and lure “normal girls” from the audience to take part in the raunchy happenings on stage. LoLa was a tall teenager with long, long legs and blonde locks that fell to her waist. She was angelic. She entered the competition and that was the birth of a true showgirl. I was so proud on Thursday night. She deserved all the praise. The Lollipop Lounge was packed. We entertained our suppliers, our bookkeepers, our loyal customers and through all the jollification a brunette with a strong English accent rubbed up against me. “I am a 29 year old strip club virgin” she piped. “I love the atmosphere, the girls are so gorgeous. This is my first strip club visit ever and it’s the most exciting evening ever.” I looked at her in amazement. “Your first time ever?” “Yes, but not my last! “She swayed her hips suggestively as she turned her back on me. I smiled. We must be doing something right. One of my customers came past. Hugged me and whispered…”This has been one of my most difficult years ever. The Lollipop Lounge was my lifesaver.” Yes it’s been a long tough year. The neon signs on the roof caught alight one freezing cold night middle of June at 5h00 in the morning and I raced towards the club. I arrived and stood in amazement as the firemen already on the roof put out the electric fire. We were lucky. My security guard got rewarded for his swift response. We must count our blessings. Have a great festive season and may 2012 be the best year ever!!

Love

GiGi

Now, you see, I know the world of an actor. The auditions, the long periods without work, the little money if you are lucky enough to get a job. The words “Next!” after a short audition piece that you had such a good feeling about.

You see, I studied Drama at Stellenbosch before the world of Exotic Dancing swallowed me up and spat me out. Not in an ugly way, when you see someone hanging over the toilet, trying to clear his gut from what upset his stomach. My spitting out, was the birth of a wiser, streetwise performer. GiGi the showgirl was born. I must say it took many, many shows and many, many late nights before I truly made my mark by 2004. It was the stories of those years that captivated by little audience on those cold and raining nights in Melkbosstrand. “I am coming to waitress for you as soon as this production is finished.”

One red haired born and bred Nelspruit performer proclaimed. “I am coming to visit!” The aloof brunette on the couched joined in. “Really?” I teased in a playful manner. “I have never been to a strip club, GiGi! I am coming to visit!”

Two months later the young red head joined the Lollipop Lounge as a waitress. She started with enthusiasm. She had an energy and freshness that was contagious.

Then two weeks later she phoned. “Sorry GiGi, I cannot do this. I can’t sleep, the long hours are killing me and deep down I just do not feel good. Earning tips from customers that ogled at girls for hours on end.” And so came the end of my red haired co-actor, cum waitress.

By the end of the year. I was wondering what happened to the aloof brunette. I phoned her up. “I have not seen you for ages. Come for dinner at the Lollipop Lounge. I will show you around. There are so many of my friends that would like to meet you!” She phoned two days later. “ I am sorry GiGi. I am not going to lie. I can never visit the club. Please forgive me, but it’s not my kind of place.”

Only then did it strike me. Although they might be actors, they are still ordinary people with ordinary lives and I am on the outside looking in.   I appreciated her honesty. I took my friends to meet with her at a little Portuguese restaurant down the road. She looked like she enjoyed the dinner and the company. We kissed and hugged and went our separate ways.

Separate worlds, separate dreams, light years apart.

In complete panic our SSG guard presses the panic button and all hell breaks ­loose. Police and SSG vans ar­rive in full force. Meantime our protesting client passes out face-first on the grass. This isn’t a script for Get Shorty, I pro­mise you this really happened.

Now between the SSG patrol van and the police they decide it would be better for our unfortunate customer to sleep it off in Randburg police station. We the Lollipop Lounge de­cide not to press charges for the window pane. So the police, after collecting his wallet, cell and ID, load him carefully into the van. SSG took all the details of the police and handed it to my head bouncer.

A job well done. On Saturday morning my auditor phones. “Morning GiGi.”

“This is very early for business,” I reply. He’s not his usual friendly self. “Well something strange happened last night. One of my clients that I sent down to the Lollipop Lounge for lunch ended up in prison last night. His wife had to pick him up at 5.30 this morning. He is an Austrian. Only here in South Africa for a short business trip.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Well, all lot can happen between 15:00 and 22:00, South African citizen or not,” I squeak, trying to explain.

The lesson: … If you end up letting it all hang out, watch your language, your manners and don’t pass out face-first on the grass… See you on December 15 at our year-end function!

Love
Xxx
Gigi

Gigi writes a weekly column for Scoop – click http://scoopnews.co.za to see!
Click http://scoopnews.co.za/banged-up-abroad/ to read the article.

What baffles me is where did a 19-year-old work before she discovers in November that her true calling is that of a lap dancer? But all things apart, I’ve been enjoying the effect these young ­ones ­have on my establishment.

Now you see, a strip club has rules. Not rules like you can’t do this or you must not go there, but intricate rules laid down by the lionesses of the pride.

These hunters of prey have tasted the money. They have their own favourite clients. Their own favourite corners. They do not share. They do have an underlying respect for each other. This respect, of course, disappears when the big money spender arrives in her absence, but nevertheless they work in close harmony – and they have done so for many years.

But the new young vixens are bringing out the claws. I know that only a few of these wannabee young lap dancers will survive this harsh industry. I know they will change to blonde (blondes do make more money) and the boob job will ­come. She will get to know the taste of money and the sparkle in her eyes will go when another double shift is finished. She’ll tell me what a wonderful husband she has, who looks after the kids while she is taking off her clothes.

But for now, these new girls are over­zealous. Their dancing on stage resembles that of a young giraffe learning to walk. Their boobs are perky and their little bottoms firm and white. They dance without look­ing for the spotlights on ­stage. They do not know the value of the sunbed and hair exten­sions, yet.

And yes, “yet” is the dreaded word. Because all of this can and will change fast. When they realise that it’s all about the money. Tasting R5?000 a night. That will be the turning point, and the older lionesses know this too well. I had a smile on my face when one of the new vixens did a lovely raunchy lap dance that left the customer grinning from ear to ear. Dazed, he handed over his R300. I had to remind her as she left him that she ­forgot to remove her G-string and bra. She giggled and turned back to ­finish. Only at 19 will you be forgiven for such an oversight. She was given another R200 for a job well done. I saw the older girls measuring her up, discussing her, smiling as she walked past. They saw themselves 10 years ago, but there was no sisterly feeling. Here the strongest survive. She will have to prove herself. She will have to endure. She’ll have to change from the “struggling-to-dance” ­giraffe to a leopard.

I wait in anticipation!

Love
Xxx
Gigi

I realise, after 15 years in the erotic industry, how great the magic of these gem squashes are as we release them night after night from where they lie cradled in their little lace packaging.

As Lola releases them on stage, they hop out, no gravity in sight, and stare you straight in the face. And to grab attention even more, she can move them individually up and down. Now that is muscle control. I take special pleasure in watching my clients become putty in Lola’s hands.

Oh, so gullible, this special breed… men. As Victoria releases her boobs, they bounce and jump back to their position. Not too big, not too small. So inviting… advertising her immortal youth. Her nipples like two red cherries – the forbidden fruit.

As Gaby releases them from her extra-laced bra, they drop down and their noses point to the floor. They are the mighty Aphrodite. They might not look you straight in the eye, but you will find their awkward shyness alluring.

Now please don’t be fooled. You often hear the guys talk: “I’m a bum man!” The other will reply, “No, I am more a leg man!” Rubbish! After years, I know the truth: they are all boob men!

The French understand boobs. They ­like them natural. In all the topless shows I have seen in France, the boobs are perky and not too heavy. Like fresh peaches.

Typical of all things American, their boobs need to be the biggest. Young water­melons resting on a skinny frame – that’s what the American Dream has be­come. I have worked with many dancers who, after years of natural boobs, acquire watermelons. Their bodies have to adjust to the extra weight they carry and they become twice their size to accommodate the twins!

For myself, I am blessed with boobs that have a will of their own. They love the stage. My nipples will always jump out and stand to attention. I remember dancing at the Venda Sun, 40 degrees and the glue of our false eyelashes melting. But there they were, erect and ready. Yes, my boobs are true performers.

With the unfortunate death of Smoking Joe Frazier last week I thought back of an enchanting evening in 1994 at the old Carlton Hotel in town. I was attending a tribute evening for Muhammad Ali. It was a glamorous affair. And I was seated at the table with Baby Jake and some journalists from various newspapers. I remember Ali giving a demonstration of his famous Ali-shuffle with Brain Mitchell shadow boxing the master. I could not believe what I was witnessing. There was the biggest legend of the boxing world a few meters away from me on stage. After the main course Muhammad moved through the crowds. He was already sick at that stage with Parkinson disease and although he moved slowly he handed out religious notes to the audience with a big smile. I was in the middle of a group of journalists and fans trying to catch a glimpse or a pamphlet that he was handing out.  Then Ali stopped, turned to me and smiled.  And with a big gesture showed the crowd to open the way so that I could step up to him. It was the biggest moment of my life I can say with all honesty. I was standing next to an icon, a legend, a hero, with his hand around my waist and we were smiling to the cameras. The same hands that fought Joe Frazier in 1975, George Foreman in 1974, Sonny Liston in 1964 and 1965. I was the luckiest girl ever.” Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”, was my motto from then on. On stage I would float like a butterfly and when I pinned Piet down to brand his wobbly white bum, O boy, I would sting like a bee!

Have a great week!
Love
GiGi

Gigi writes a weekly column for Scoop – click http://scoopnews.co.za to see!
Click http://scoopnews.co.za/gloves-off-2/ to read the article.  

Gigi writes a weekly column for Scoop – click http://scoopnews.co.za to see!

Last Thursday night I found myself at the Menlyn shopping centre for the premiere of Platteland, the Movie.

My expectations were high, seeing that the sexy male lead is my favourite singer. I also love the platteland and was curious to see if the producer could capture the heart and people of the countryside.

You see, my second home is a small harbour village called Gansbaai. I love the food and lifestyle and people of the wonderful Overberg district.

So there I was at the movie with Olga, my university friend, sharing all the glitz and glamour Pretoria has to offer. The man in my life was a bit Steve-a-phobic, so he was left at home.

Olga and I sat in the cinema, eager to be thrilled by all the big names of the singing industry. But I am sorry to say I still cannot make out whether the producer aimed to make a musical, cowboy, action or love story. It had every skiet, skop and donner trick that I have seen before.

And I really thought it would be more soothing to the soul if the main actress only sang and spoke less. And my favourite singer, I am sorry to say, turned out to be no Clint Eastwood.

It seems as if producers are obsessed to put a strip scene into each and every South African movie. I can proudly say that the strip scene in this movie was filmed in my own Lollipop Lounge in Johannesburg.

My club has a warm, Moulin Rouge-like, burlesque atmosphere. It’s just a pity that the actresses never spent time with my dancers to find out what a lap dance or being a stripper is all about.

Now imagine having a strip club in the countryside. It would be my dream to run such a place over there, but I can promise you, it will never become a reality.

The whole town would demand to know what you do for a living. And as you run errands in town, you will be one hundred percent sure to run into some villager that you danced for the previous night – maybe even one of the teachers at your children’s school.

Forget about a stage name and moonlighting. And the worst thing is the money – a strip club’s cash flow in a dorp is guaranteed to be slow. Not to mention the lack of customers.

When I was in Gansbaai a couple of months ago, some women were sitting at a coffee shop. One of them spotted me on the pavement and approached me. “I hope you’re not moving in,” she said. “No,“ I said, “I already live here.”

“We don’t like competition here. We will have to guard our husbands with you around,” she snarled.

That’s when my illusion of ever opening a strip club in the countryside died.

I would love some producer to approach me with a script that truly reflects this vibrant and erotic industry.

In the meantime, I am fascinated by the Americanised misinterpretation of my industry. Let’s wake up and smell the roses.

Have a great week!
Love
GiGi

See the article online here: http://scoopnews.co.za/no-sex-please-were-prudish/

Gigi writes a weekly column for Scoop – click http://scoopnews.co.za to see!

And there I was on Friday night at a Prestige award evening in Johannesburg. It was a hot summer evening with the first summer rain brewing outside. I was sitting in the darkened auditorium listening to the gifted Colette playing the first movement of Mozart’s violin concerto with an angelic smile. She played the violin concerto and received a standing ovation. What a privilege for me to witness this young girl receiving a bursary in music. What a great company to give money for such a gifted musician and to see the importance of leading our youth to achieve in the arts. I was thinking about my own young lap dancers at the club and how gifted they are in their own unique way. And yes lap dancing is an art. Just ask the guy with the glossy eyes making his way to the bar after a dance.” A higher form of art “, they have assured me many a times.

As a dancer you will arrive at the club for your evening shift at 18h45 and join the rest of the girls in the dressing room. You will lock your bags away and do the last corrections to your make-up and hair and then leave the dressing room. And that’s when Rose Swanepoel becomes Minina. You will sit with various clients do small talk and then eventually one will say “Dance for me!” You will lead him to a darkened cubicle and there you will turn this stranger into the most desirable sex object ever. With your eyes you will mesmerize him; with your boobs swaying in front of his mouth you will make him gasp with desire and when you slowly remove your G-string his eyes will be locked onto that secret place between your legs and you have him! You have just played Mozart in all the movements possible and got a standing ovation.

Yes, I have observed a master in writing. Egmont Sippel has received many prizes for journalism. For a motoring journalist to be honoured for his use of language is a great achievement. A first ever in the history! An academic recognition. I have always loved the men of the academic. Even at varsity I was in awe of my Classical Culture lecturer. He wore big glasses, curly black hair with a shirt that looked like it would pop right off of his body. I had endless fantasies about him. I should have concentrated more on what he taught seeing that I loved Florence and all its art when I visited in August.

Back in the club I realized the importance of giving recognition to good work. I am presenting my top dancer of this year with an Arend Eloff statue. The statue symbolises a young woman standing proudly with her arms ending in wings. I wish I could afford a bursary but now this statue representing financial freedom will have to do. Freedom to apply for your first bond, buy your own car and to look after your family!

Have a great week!
Love!
Xx GiGi

Gigi writes a weekly column for Scoop – here’s the first one!

Hi to all and welcome to this first edition of Scoop. Every week I will take you on a journey that will leave you wet and wild and full of vigour for life. My life is not a normal run of the mill nine to five, feed the kids, watch soapies kind of life. I have a little awkward existence.

Firstly I was born in the Paarl hospital with six fingers on every hand. A defect that my dad also carried. You could say very handy since he was a classical composer. Now I have only met one person in my life that came from such back ground as me and that is Dr. Petrus du Preez that was my fellow actor in a Seder Val in Waterkloof. But we are a rare breed. Secondly needless to say my dad was an eccentric person that made us 3 girls look at life with different eyes. To some extend I blame the phallic Afrikaans Taalmonument for how my life turned out. Have you been to the top op Paarlberg and marvelled at the erect construction. I promise you it will remind you of one thing and one thing only. And that was my exciting beginnings in the beautiful dorp Paarl. Swimming the bergriver, roaming the mountain in search for wild mushrooms and stealing grapes from the various wine farms that surrounded our home.

Now I spend most of my life running the Lollipop Lounge in Randburg, a lap dancing venue where I employ 50 South-African dancers and 58 staff, making me the only female lap dance club owner in South-Africa. A far cry from my care free upbringing in the Western Cape. In October 2009 I was approached by M-net to enter into the reality show Celebrity Show Survivor. True to my character I agreed and spend 27 nights with little food, eaten by sand-flies, no basic creature comforts. Not easy for this pap en vleis meisie. But I prevailed and walked away with the title and brought home R 500 000 for Hospice Houghton.

After matric I studied drama at the Stellenbosch university. Worked for Pact for a measly amount of R188 a week after tax and quickly realised to follow my dreams I would have to earn extra cash. One day I saw a small add asking for cabaret dancers. I went for an audition at the old Sardis (do you still remember this lovely little cabaret venue) and so started a career and yes I call it a career of fifteen years as an exotic dancer. And in the following weeks I will share memories of those special years. The people I worked with and the world I moved in.

I also have the privilege to act in the one woman show Nipple caps and G-strings written by acclaimed writer Deon Opperman. It’s a story of fantasy and why so many men and yes married men visit strip clubs.
So join me next week for an episode that will leave you restless with anticipation, you might want to change careers, put on your stilettos and do the funky chicken in the kitchen.

Love

Xxx

GiGi