As a poor student new to Toronto, I was always a little disappointed by the strip club options presented to me by peers. I made the obligatory trips to Zanzibar and Brass Rail, and was quickly frozen out by the stuffy atmosphere and high prices. You can’t blame them, these are the joints that the A-Rods of the world show up to, not low-end grifters like me.

A year ago, when I thought my strip club patronage was behind me, I noticed Filmores Strip Club, which I often passed, offered a $4 happy hour from 4-7 pm. Located on George Street (worst in Toronto according to police) and Dundas, this was worth investigating. After all, a beer in a normal bar costs more than $4. Even if the girls weren’t of the highest calibre, something about the lighting and music of the strip club atmosphere has always drawn me like a fly to a fluorescent light. And it did turn out to be a good place to stop for a beer. They even heed requests for Bob Dylan tunes as respite from endless rap and 80s rock.

What surprised me was that Filmores had exactly what I was looking for: girls who seemed real, like the ones on the streets and subway cars. I have a serious problem with passing attractive girls on the street. Like Kerouac said,

“Her hair was long and lustrous black; and her eyes were great big blue things with timidities inside. I wished I was on her bus. A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl who I loved who was going in the opposite direction in this too big world.” – On the Road.

Clubs like Zanzibar seem to rely on “old pros”, who often have implants with the consistency of Styrofoam, and look a hell of a lot worse if you can wrangle them into any kind of good light. I’m from the barren Algoma region, specifically Sault Ste. Marie, and it always irked me that the lone strip club there always seemed to have higher quality girls than the much ballyhooed Brass Rail.

What both the Sault’s Studio 10 and Filmores offer is that gritty, sexed-up dose of reality. At the Studio in the Sault you might run into a woman who worked in your high school cafeteria, or a scummy classmate with a nice rack you wouldn’t have known about unless you saw her naked at this strip club. Similarly, Filmores tends to attract girls just off the bus from various shitholes (Sudbury, parts further North). They can rent rooms in the “hotel” upstairs even.

While this may reek of exploitation, keep in mind it’s a two-way street. These women aren’t exactly pouring out their love and affection for your $20 lap-dance fee. However, as I became a “regular”, familiar girls would come over and lavish a couple songs worth of kindness on me as a sort of warm-up. And even though it’s an obvious con, it was welcome. Here is a passage describing this from my short story Elise Ivey:

I went to the strip club and told the strippers all about these visions of Elise. Strippers (1) listen better than any kind of therapist, they’re just running a different type of con, and (2) sometimes look, smell or feel like the girl that would drive you to a therapist in the first place. Modern mind-medicine boasts no easy answers when it comes to acute carnal-memory disorders—the only effective therapy remains tactile.

I would always bring a book, usually something by William Burroughs, and the women were obliged to ask me what I was reading. This would set me off on long Burroughsian tangents. Tell me, who else would listen to this, then rub themselves sensually on me for a $10 to $20 fee?

That brings me to the extremely low cost of a lap dance at this joint. There used to be a $10 room that had forever been “under construction”, and I believe is now totally extinct. But, oh, the joys that room afforded me when it was operational. Technically, touching was not allowed in this room. But this is overlooked during slow times, when my cheap-ass is the only game in town. Some would scornfully deny touching and demand I go to the $20 room for that (which also requires a $10 cover). So, needless to say, the ones willing to overlook the rules about the $10 room quickly became my favourites. For $50 to $100 I could have all the booze I could process and all the flesh on my lap I wanted. Truly, a sensualist’s ideal. If only Thoreau were alive for this, he would have lost interest in his “simple bluebird” awful quick.

I became quite familiar with the rotation of the 4-7pm roster. This was the time given to the battered old veterans yes, but there were always 3-4 really attractive girls (a nubile 20-year-old here, a perfect natural body there) holding down the fort. I rarely went at the midnight-2am time. The richer jerks throwing their money away limit my bartering power. However, the rare time I have gone, it’s like a Russ Myer film, the finest quality of fat-breasted angels this side of Youjizz.com.

Yes, Filmores will always hold a special place in my libido. Not to mention stomach! This may seem counter-intuitive to most, but they have an excellent kitchen that prepares delectable bar food at unheard of prices (Wings and Fries – just over $5 for example.)

So whether you’re a creepy loner like me looking for some 5pm drunken fondling, or among a rowdy group of late-night partiers, Filmores is my first and only recommendation to meet all your strip club needs.

By: Tarheel Slim