I’m often asked if my work is a barometer of the economy, a question that’s become more common since the popularisation of the theory of “the stripper index”, the idea that strip clubs are a leading indicator of recession. That idea was first referred to by US stripper @botticellibimbo in a tweet in 2022.
It is true that when there is a downturn in the economy, people spend less money on things they consider luxuries rather than necessities. I imagine that strip clubs, like clubs in general, are a reflection of that.
I do know that when I worked in-house in brothels or massage parlours, the busy seasons mimicked those of the hospitality industry, with the best time to make bank being the last few months of the year in the lead-up to Christmas. It’s important to note that that also coincides with summer for us. The quietest is midyear, when it’s both cold and the end of the financial year.
School holidays were bad because clients went away with their families, and Ramadan was bad if you were working in a suburban shop, though inner-city ones weren’t affected by it due to there being fewer Muslim clients in the area.
Big sports games could be good or bad, depending on which team won, and something like Valentine’s Day could be good because fewer women worked, but also bad because fewer men came in.
One of the worst periods I ever worked was when school holidays and Ramadan coincided at a high-volume, low-rate brothel. One of the best was when I worked during the Lunar New Year at a Chinese-run brothel when none of the Asian girls wanted to be in that day.
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When I first started sex work in 2013, the older workers would always say that regular clients were your “bread and butter”, and it was important to cultivate them. I realised that myself when I experienced the ebbs and flows of my first few years, and saw that when it got quiet, you wanted clients who were loyal to you specifically, not to the house.
Basically you needed to build enough of a relationship so that, in their mind, they converted you from a luxury to a necessity, making you resistant to downturns. There’s always less footfall when the economy is bad, but if you could ensure that there were men who would see you no matter what, then you would have enough to survive, if not to thrive.
The other vital thing was having clients who were affluent enough that their own finances were either recession-proof, or the money spent on you was chump change, though that’s something I’ve only achieved in later years through independent escorting.
As an individual sex worker, it is hard to determine the effect of the state of the economy on my income when I’m not working in-house and seeing the flow of clients more broadly. Of course, I can notice things such as getting fewer enquiries on my work phone, or fewer bookings from new clients rather than regulars.
However there are so many other factors at play; for example, recently in Australia they implemented an under-16 social media ban, which means that every website with potentially “harmful” content has to implement age-verification procedures. That has meant things as ridiculous as me having to take proof of my age with a selfie in order to view a photo of Megan Thee Stallion in a bikini on X.
It has had the trickle-down effect of all nude content being removed from escort advertising sites, which is cheaper for the website than introducing age-verification technology. Which leaves me with the impossible question: am I making less money because of rising petrol prices or because prospective clients can no longer view me on my ad?
I am also part of a market in sex work and so I am affected by many things, such as how many other girls are working near me, what their prices are, what they’re offering, what my price is, what I’m offering, how desirable I’m perceived to be, if there’s anything setting me apart (such as the girl on OnlyFans who was born with two vaginas, a marketing dream) etc.
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I earned more as a white girl at brothels when I was the only white girl on shift. I earned less when I was competing against many other young white girls like me. I earn more because I do taboo roleplays that many other workers won’t engage in; I earn less because I don’t offer BBBJ (bareback blowjob).
A friend of mine, who works in a parlour, jokes that she is recession-proof because she’s “exotic”. “I’m good, I’m Persian,” she says, even though she’s not Persian, that is her cover to protect her identity, a safety method that many working girls of less-common nationalities or ethnicities use.
There are other ways I can infer things about the economy from the sex industry, not related to my own income. An influx of new girls to a shop often meant that times were tough and women were money-hunting. In more prosperous times, workers would settle in one establishment.
The movement of migrant women across borders is often a reflection of the economy of where they are coming from. Japanese sex workers were more unusual in Sydney pre-Covid. After the pandemic, when our borders opened, we had so many Japanese women fleeing the downturn there that my brothel hired a Japanese receptionist.
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Now I’m solo, though, I don’t see all these fluctuations that I can interpret. All I see are posts from other escorts in online groups complaining about it being quiet. But those complaints are always there. They are not subject to any economic climate, and how am I to judge who is not making money because of clients tightening their belts or who is not making money for other, more personal reasons?
Tilly Lawless is a Sydney-based sex worker. She is the author of two novels: Nothing But My Body (2021) and Thora (2024)
