Gay & Lesbian

Having just read Lily Burana's strip 'n' tell memoir, 'Strip City', I was keen to see the Candy Bar’s spin on the art of undressing. My willing escort and I arrive at the venue just as the dancers are having their preliminary show-off circuit and shot. Tonight it's 'Bubblegum' (Blue Curacao, banana liqueur and Baileys) which looks pretty and tastes like trouble. Dancers Faye-Marie and Dionne and 'house mother' Crystal are in dresses that they definitely didn't buy at Top Shop. Almost in a frock that's backless, skirtless and virtually frontless, Crystal, semi-retired after “too many injuries”, looks after the 'girls', dropping the occasional dance herself “just for the fun of it”. “I wanted the club to be how I always wished clubs were when I danced. This is the only place run by girls for girls and it shows”. Feature continues

We go down to the bijou basement which has a small stage at one end and a brand new horizontal pole upon which Crystal enthusiastically demonstrates some moves. It's almost empty; a few women sitting against the wall looking far more nervous than the dancers, who appear for all the world as if they're having a quiet drink after a day at the (over-heated) office. A lovely assistant sells pretty pink 'dollars' for a pound and Crystal bounds onto the stage and polishes the poles: “It's vital that they are absolutely clean as any grease spots could cause the dancer to lose grip and fall, probably upside down. We tried every cleaning product there is but eventually found that vodka works the best”. Showtime. Faye-Marie is very young with a cheeky pixie face that looks at odds with her shiny (PVC; best for grip) boots, micro shorts and leopard print bra. She sweeps the bra off as she does a back flip to the ground. I am like the Queen, looking resolutely 'above', so I don't notice when she removes her shorts in a balletic twirl and a round of applause. When it's over PK the bouncer gathers up the dropped dollars and underwear (“a perk of the job”) and takes us to the tiny dressing room where both dancers are stark naked and blithely discussing the price of 'Ingrow Go' (shaving every other day has its problems). I am concentrating hard on my notes but both seem impossibly sleek and fuzz-free.

Dionne is wriggling into her next costume and tells me “there's two major rules: depilation and discretion. No 'pink' allowed”. Erm. So what's the difference between working here and other clubs? “Women love an assertive performance but men get intimidated and ask if you're a lesbian. Not many are, although there's a lot of bi dancers”. Crystal assures me that the percentage of men is strictly limited: “Most of the audience are gay or bi women. It's a totally different atmosphere if you have too many men, even the gay ones who 'come in for a laugh'”. One vital difference is that dancers get paid a basic wage here unlike the 'gentlemen's' clubs which charge the girls up to £200 a night to work. Slipping a dollar into a garter (the only place allowed) doesn't seem to come naturally to the audience tonight but apparently each dancer can make up to £60 a night in tips. “Since the internet, stripping is nothing” chirps Faye-Marie, “Pole dancing is an art and women appreciate the effort involved. Men just stare at your crotch and I want to shout 'What are you looking down there for?? I'm doing GYMNASTICS!!'”.

Back in the bar it's now heaving. First-timer Charlotte, 27, is a teacher: “Well, we don' t have anything like it in Oxford! I'm a bit shocked; I don't think women should do that sort of thing. But they're very agile”. Regular Ika, 23, an events manager from Poland, disagrees. “It's not sleazy, it's art. It's sexy but I don't think lesbians are really interested in stripping women”. Samantha, 32, is a accountant who has just 'popped in for a drink'. I point out that she could drink in the upstairs bar for free: “Yes, but it's buzzier down here. It's good light-hearted friendly fun. I think it's sweet”. Film-maker Kirsti, 36, loves “the campness of it all” and 'Tom' is a straight man who has been a regular since his lesbian daughter (now in a relationship, so presumably at home in front of 'Casualty') brought him along: “It's my weekly therapy, it makes me feel that I can be who I want. I respect the girls and hopefully they can see that I do”.

Suddenly Faye-Marie stalks out wearing huge film star sunglasses and hanky-sized shorts with 'God is Dead' in silver glitter on the front, and proceeds to execute a dead drop from the top of the pole into the splits. And none of her, not even her shades, wobbles. Crystal, hawk-like, spots someone taking a photo on their mobile and she and PK are there in a flash. The high energy finale sees a rush to get rid of last-minute sweaty dollars with several people trying to tuck their notes in all manner of unhygienic places. Backstage, the dancers find a lottery ticket (“I wouldn't mind if it was in date”) and a phone number (shame on you, Jessica!) in their haul. Both go straight into the bin and the girls get dressed for the final time.