Oakland Tribune Contra Costa Times interview Slinky Productions

SF Bay Guardian interview Slinky Productions

The Curve Magazine January 2008
by Catherine Plato

I’ve always been a big fan of strip clubs; the combo of top-40 remixes, the ubiquitous scent of vanilla body spray and the small army of half-naked, long-legged stilettoed college girls brings me helplessly to my knees every time. But you know what I’ve always found really, really cool about blowing a week’s salary on impossibly hot women pretending to like me? Badass pole dancing. A perverse spin on the art of jungle gym gallivanting, good pole dancing is a sweet money-making mélange of grace and athleticism, coy innocence and brazen whorishness. It’s also the latest in trendy workouts, with classes popping up at Crunch Fitness and independent dance studios around the country. As a former modern dancer, a lifelong perv and a liberal arts major always in search of marketable skills, I just had to try.
A quick Google search led me to S Factor (sfactor.com), a chain of pole dancing studios founded by actress Sheila Kelley after playing a stripper in 2000’s Dancing at the Blue Iguana. Kelley was never a real live stripper herself, but her role in the film inspired her to teach erotic dance to other women. She has nine studios throughout the country, and all offer six levels of classes. I signed up for the introductory class: an hour and a half, $40 session.
The room was dark; there were two poles in the middle, soft, fuck-me R&B playing from a stereo, and about 10 gym-short-clad women in their 20s through 40s. The instructor, a shapely, outgoing woman named Tauren had everyone introduce themselves and say what drew them to the class. Half the students were there for a bachelorette party; other motives included toned abs and surprising their husbands with a sexy treat. In my nose ring and Sleater-Kinney tee, I felt conspicuously gay.
We spent the first third of the class doing a stripper floorwork-inspired warm-up: pelvic thrusts, torso rolls, some yoga-esque stretches and the occasional booty smack. The lights were low and there were no mirrors in the room because, as Tauren pointed out, if you feel sexy, you must look sexy too. Fair enough. After the warm-up we practiced walking around the room wagging our hips and feeling ourselves up, amidst constant reminders of our own unique and inherent sexiness. Being told how hot I am for a full hour is definitely cool, but I did find myself craving a little more hand-to-pole contact.
The pole trick finally came: a fairly simple move where you hook your ankles around the pole and spin to the bottom. After practicing a few times (with 10 students and only two poles in the class, we didn’t have time for much more), Tauren and another instructor sat us down for a demonstration: a five-minute improvised dirty dance combining floorwork, pole tricks and general ass-shaking. Breathtaking. The women were absolute virtuosos, like the Charlie Parkers of eroticism. Class ended to applause, giggling and an infomercial-esque plug for the longer series. I left, amused and inspired but only half-satisfied.
My search for satisfaction brought me to Catherine Rose, a retired, eight-year veteran stripper, a teacher since 2000 and the founder of erotic dance institution Slinky Productions. “I am one of the pioneers teaching this movement,” she told me proudly during a pre-class conversation. She told me that her class focused more on the technique of erotic dance. I was happy to expect more pole and less affirmation.
The Slinky Productions studio was smaller and a little more bare-bones than S Factor. It’s in San Francisco’s Center for Healing and Expression, and the poles are removable structures. We kept the lights on throughout class and had mirrors in the room—again, the focus was on actual skill and technique rather than sexy self-appreciation. My instructor, Sara North, was another retired erotic dancer herself, and a friendly, punky chick with multicolored hair and large tattoos. While S Factor students wore more typical workout attire, the Slinky students wore anything from biker shorts to leotards to sequined haltered tops. Admittedly, I felt much more at home and eventually even felt, sincerely, the love-thyself that had been slightly force-fed by S Factor. By the end of the first class, I had about three different pole spins mastered, and could even climb. I was psyched that so many of the moves were actually much easier than they looked.
While S Factor offers levels one through seven, each with its own panty (like belts earned in martial arts), Slinky Productions’ classes are organized by specific sexy skills: Lap dancing, pole dancing and floorshow classes are all popular offerings (slinkyproductions.com for rates). While pole dancing is a good abs, arms and shoulders exercise, lap dancing focuses more on the glutes and hamstrings. Though taking a 90-minute to three-hour class—the typical length at most studios—is super fun and sexy, it might not be enough to give you a good workout, especially since the student-to-pole ratio typically doesn’t allow for as much practice as you might like. The solution? Invest in your own removable pole, or do it like the strippers of yore and practice on your local stop sign. That’s what I did, and not only did my dancing improve, but my public practice sessions have earned me all sorts of colorful new pals.
So, if you really want to dance like a pro, skip Crunch Fitness and the larger studios, and go straight to a real live stripper (even a retired one) to show you how it’s done. However, if you’re perhaps a little older and certainly a bit less brazen, a studio like S Factor might be more your style. Either way, taking it to the pole is a decent means of exercise and a fabulous means of feeling like a badass.

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photos by Larry Utley © 2006