If you're reading this, you might be a stripper. You might know a stripper. You might wish you were a stripper but just can't get over that whole 'social stigma' thing and so you're stuck with my righteous words of DO IT DO IT DO IT until you actually might (or might not) do it.
You know what rippers love? Fuckin' presents.
The problem is that a hustler buys all the shit she needs and wants with her own hard-earned money. This makes the holidays a little tricky for your benevolent ass.
Fear not, I am here to help.
What to get the woman who gets by just fine all by her damn self:
Because, like feminism, Marabou pumps are for everyone. And you can never have enough pairs.
A hustler is a hustler because all she wanted when she was a kid was a Power Wheels and, well, it's a stupidly expensive gift for a child. But it's probably the dopest gift you could ever get a grown-ass woman.
Tickets to Hamilton
This show is rad and the tix are already hard to find and pricey as fuck. If you can snag these you yourself are a hustler, my friend, and I'd like to buy you a lemon drop shot if we ever meet IRL. Don't forget to take her to dinner first.
Hustlers don't wear their hearts on their sleeve; they wear their game all over their brows, highlights and biceps. These are cute as hell and you can buy them right here.
My Life on the Road
If you've already read my book and you've got a voracious babe on your hands, Gloria Steinem is one of the baddest of the bunch.
Decadent downtime is a real thing. Self-care is a real thing. Every hustler needs a few robes when she's not swaddled in VS PINK workout gear. I must suggest Cartheine D'lish's oeuvre of gossamer and marabou decadence.
After stuffing so many thick wads of singles into the money clip you got her last year, it kind of lost it's grip. She needs a new one.
The Flashdance Sweatshirt
We are all Jennifer Beals and we all need this sweatshirt.