Monday, March 16th, 2009
Regular readers here will know that I live in a rather colourful area of Toronto, one that I like to call ‘Transvestite Prostitute Central.’ I am now used to the high volume of street walkers that grace my street with their thigh high boots, fishnet tights and five o’clock shadows.
During the winter months, they disappear. Rightfully so, because those temperatures will make their balls literally freeze right off (which, I would have thought is what a lot of them wanted, but hey). But, this past weekend, as I made my way home from movie night at my friend’s house, I saw Tina Turner and Jennifer Aniston (I name them based on their wig selection), trying to turn a trade on the corners. More power to them. The weather took a slightly nicer turn over the weekend, so I can’t blame them for getting back in the saddle (ugh, bad choice of words) when they get a chance.
But all this got me to thinking: during the uber cold winter months, what are they doing? House calls? Massage parlours? Drag acts? Phone sex? Enquiring minds want to know. Some of these ladies are a little worse for wear. All right, all of them are, so they can’t keep this $20 hand job business up forever. I decided to compile a list of things they can do to better occupy their time (I plan to present these to them in Oprah-esque fashion at some point in the coming months):
Work at Starbucks
Seriously, when I went in there Sunday morning to treat myself to a bacon breakfast sandwich, the guy who served me seemed to be the happiest person alive. And he works at Starbucks. He was so happy, he made me seriously question my own life choices. Now, if I were a transvestite prostitute looking to get out of the game, shouting ‘Grande Mild’ all day might just be the way forward. At some point I will go back to that Starbucks and ask that guy if he was so happy because he loves his job, or if he had, in fact, been hitting the pipe moments earlier.
Working in a beauty shop
The ‘ladies’ on my street clearly like to (try) to make themselves pretty (unsuccessfully). Doing mani/pedis and waxing eyebrows on other people, may just help them get a better grasp on the look they are trying to achieve.
Mach 3 demonstration person
Again, on account of the amount of 5 o’clock shadows I see, demonstrating how to use a powerful man’s razor might underline the importance of shaving your face when trying to look like a woman.
Become a ‘Real World’ cast member
Right now, they have a post-op transsexual on there. If they threw a transvestite prostitute in the mix, it would clearly be more exciting.
Become a TTC worker
According to the stats, Toronto’s transit employees get attacked pretty regularly (most of the time they probably deserved it, because being a complete asshole is a job requirement). If they had transvestite prostitutes running shit, attacks would go down. Why? Because no one argues with someone wearing eye shadow, blush and a beard. That’s why. It’s all just too intriguing to get angry about.
Sunday, August 24th, 2008
I donned my glad rags (a very cute shirt dress with a belt and super sexy black stilettos with a whole lot of toe cleavage) and set out to walk the one block to my friend’s house. As I approached the corner, I saw a crowd of people. One woman from the crowd broke off and started walking in my direction, smiling at me. For a moment, I was panic stricken, thinking I was supposed to know her, but there wasn’t an ounce of recognition. As she got closer, I realised, dear God, she was actually going to talk to me.
“Hi. I’m Wendy,” she said. I gave her a smile and nod. “I’m a sex worker and I’m just out here making sure all you girls are being safe tonight.”
I took a moment to scream ‘what…the…fuck!!!’ in my head and then gathered myself.
“That’s great Wendy,” I said. “I am not a prostitute, but keep up the good work. I’m just a girl with good legs, who likes to show them off. I only have about 2 more years left to do that before it’s socially unacceptable for me to do so. But rock on with your mission. Kudos to you.”
Wendy looked a little stunned. “Oh. OK,” was all she managed to blurt out. Either she was embarrassed about her huge error, or she thought I was in denial.
I kept walking, shaking my head in disgust at what had just happened. But then, in the space of one block, I was propositioned three times. To make matters worse, when I got to my friend’s place, he wasn’t ready, so I had to wait outside for him…on the corner. Not a good look.
Though, I guess it could be reassuring to know that if things ever take a downward turn for me, I could really make a lot of money out here on these streets.
I’m thinking about possibly retiring that outfit, but my friends all insist they love it. It’s very Carrie Bradshaw, they tell me. Wendy the sex worker, must be the last remaining human to not have seen Sex and the City (how ironic, given her job title). But as my friend kindly pointed out: “Carrie Bradshaw don’t got your legs, honey.”
So in case you were wondering what takes an outfit from Sex and the City chic to Prostitute garb, the answer, apparently, is about seven inches of leg.