Opinions on this topic are going to vary widely, but I wanted to present my take, not only because I can (because bkknites publishes my blogs), but also because I’m something of a connoisseur. An ass-n-tits aficionado, so to speak. A devotee of debauchery, a seductress savant. A purveyor of prancing pussies. A nut for naughtiness. A gash gourmet. A bon vivant of booty. A fan of fanny. I’ve been watching scantily-clad girls shake what their mamas gave ‘em on a poorly-lit stage nearly every night for the last 8 years, and in that time I’ve wondered to myself more than once what particular trait or combination of traits come together to set certain girls apart from the herd. Or flock if fowl are better imagery than beasts of burden.
We’re all familiar with the typical 2-step move of a bored Thai gogo dander. Some call it the skytrain shuffle. Place one hand on the pole, then shift weight from one leg to the other in time with whatever’s blaring over the speakers. That describes the vast majority of lovelies one sees from Cowboy to Patpong and everywhere in between (which is Nana). Then there are those other creatures—the ones who catch your eye with the first swish of the tail (or again, tail feathers, if birds beat bovines). The ones who light up the stage and make a chump wax his candle. Even an old man’s heart speeds up at the sight of them. An imaginary and sometimes real spotlight follows them, highlighting every movement. They capture. They enrapture. They make a man want to change is ways, or at least his shorts.
So what’s the difference? What is it that makes a sexy dancer sexy?
It’s not talent. There are some great dancers on those stages in those places who can really move, yet they aren’t even remotely sexy. Some are just too chubby for Seven (he likes a 6-pack), while others simply lack the right aesthetic, and not even a groove armada could change that. I’m reminded of a girl that used to work at Bada Bing—sensational dancer, fit as a fiddle. When she moved, she made every other girl in the place seem like an awkward child in comparison. She could really shine, and for that reason she commanded a lot of attention from customers. But offstage she wasn’t much to look at. She was essentially a one-trick pony. She might’ve been a two-trick pony, since good dancing sometimes (and only sometimes) translates to good bedroom skills. But I wouldn’t know, because I could never muster the interest to find out.
It’s also not hotness. I know plenty of knockouts who, no matter how hard they try or how much they sweat, they can’t pull off sexiness. There’s a girl in Glamour that is arguably the most well-put-together dancer in the whole of Patpong. She has a perfect body, an attractive face, and looks good in everything she wears. She even has some alluring moves onstage. Yet she’s completely unappealing. When friends ask me why I haven’t made her part of my harem, I chalk it up to mismatched pheromones. But it’s more than that. She just doesn’t have “it,” whatever it is.
It’s not the uniform. One joint that I absolutely love but that also wastes effort and money unnecessarily on uniforms is Kings Corner 1. From 80s-style silver Buck Rogers outfits to long-sleeve-halter-tops-and-mom-shorts-pajama-looking ensembles, this place takes the cake for the most originally-dressed girls. And I admit, it is interesting to see what they’ll be wearing on a given night. But here’s a news flash: Daisy Duke cut-offs and a tank top or a g-string bikini have always been and will always be the best gogo uniforms, full stop (not counting the classic uniform, which is none at all).
So if it’s not about talent, or hotness, or elaborate uniforms, what’s left? The answer, of course, is attitude. Some women simply exude sexiness—in their walk, the way they flip their hair…every little thing they do is magic. And it’s exaggerated tenfold when they dance. They don’t even have to move very much. My current favorite is extremely shy for a gogo dancer. She tries to hide among the other girls on stage. She hates attention. She’s self-conscious, moves the absolute minimum amount, and hopes to be overlooked. But she’s doomed to be noticed, cursed to be called out by customers, because despite her best efforts, she’s straight-up sexy. Her “bored face” is positively gorgeous. Her skytrain shuffle is captivating. When she’s merely standing still onstage, deep in thought (probably about somtam) like a distracted gazelle, the lion in me just wants to pounce on her. And this might speak to a particular idiosyncrasy of mine: I have a weakness for pretty girls who don’t know they’re pretty. The unassuming innocence, the pure pulchritude unblemished by narcissism or guile. What a combination. And when it’s swaying back and forth in a bra and stilettos, it’s an absolute mindf*ck. No amount of cabbage-patching talent can make up for it. No measure of Macarena mastery could match it. When a girl is seductive and doesn’t know it—that’s a level of seduction no one can teach. La Femme Nikita would blush from inadequacy.
And with that, I think I’ve answered my own question. Thailand has managed to produce an inordinate number of PYT’s who are sexy simply by virtue of not being cognizant of the fact that they’re sexy. When she doesn’t realize that swinging her hips in lingerie to the beat of a pop song while multicolored strobe lights play eye tricks with the blue and red ink in her back tattoo, it is hands down the most sexy thing in the world.
Having said that, though, the two sexiest gogo dancers I ever saw both defied this description. They had to know they were hot—it would’ve been impossible not to know. One worked in Pattaya, the other in Patpong. The first one, Oil, worked at both Basilisk and Frog bars in the Simon complex on Walking Street. You can still dig up Youtube videos of her sweet moves. The first time I saw her, I about soiled myself. She was a vision. I can’t adequately describe how amazing she was—you’ll just have to try to find those clips and see for yourself. We spent a glorious week together. She practically moved in with me. She drove me around town (yes she had a car, don’t ask me how), took me to dinner in places only Thais new about, and spent long lusty mornings just lying naked in bed, coiled around me like the most beautiful boa constrictor. It was starting to look like Seven might settle down. That was in 2011. Then I went back to America for a month to visit family and when I returned, she was nowhere to be found. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. The second girl was Momay, from Electric Blue Bangkok. I think I’ve posted a couple quick videos of her dancing somewhere on my Twitter or Facebook—if not I’ll find them and post them before this is published. She was sex incarnate onstage. The way she moved seemed to defy the laws of physics and decency. It was lechery at first sight for Seven. She got off the pole a few years ago. Word is she found a wealthy farang to be her benefactor. He even bought her a pair of big fake boobies. Now she just sits home taking selfies. Shame. But apart from those two, I’m convinced that the best dancers are the ones that don’t know they’re sexy, and just shake it like there’s no tomorrow, or at least like there’s nothing better to do till the next dinner break, blissfully unaware of the upheaval they’re causing in the pants of every drooling onlooker. I’m forever in search of the next one. When I find her, I’ll report back….
Actually I probably won’t. It’s more likely that I’ll keep her a selfish secret. So don’t wait on me. Get out there and find your own.
And also follow me on Twitter for nightly photos of the red-light @BangkokSeven and browse the archive on my Facebook page.