FEBRUARY 2021

Miley Cyrus’ hit song 23 came out on September 10th, 2013, ten days shy of my 18th birthday. So, it couldn't be just average. Not like you can legally club at age 18 in BC, but I was 5'9" with cheerleader confidence with legal friends and real IDs in tow; we popped the 19th cherry a year prior, on a rainy Granville St night at Joe’s Apartment, and the rest was history.

I wanted to be 23 for the night, just like our summer anthem was blaring as we looped the song on YouTube through shitty Bluetooth speakers. But I couldn't risk my badly painted driver's license, where my friend Danny carefully sandpapered and painted in 1985, not 1995. Tonight could not be risked. Narrows accepted it without missing a beat, but I didn't trust it over the bridge.

Flash forward eight years, I'm 25 (ew), and I'm shooting merch at the No 5—equipped with a whole team and a storyline in place. My 19-year old self dream come true. As I introduced myself to Jeremy, the bar manager of the 5, my mind raced back to the night of September 20th, 2013.

It was summer 2013, fresh out of high school and getting a taste of adulthood. Some landlord thought it was a bright idea to rent his basement suite off the blvd in North Van out to my other 18-year-old friends. We drank Smirnoff like water, and our favorite drug dealer lived down the street. No parents, no rules, it was go time—all summer long.

So, of course, naturally, this would be the spot for the pre-drink of my 18th birthday. We played 23 until it was time to catch the 228 to the quay so we could get on the sky train to New Westminster. We were headed to The Paramount strip club on Columbia street, and guess what? You only had to be 18 to go. 

Two weeks prior, I threw an event on Facebook, Carly's wild wet 18th. I'm sure it had some sort of name like that. It was a public event, and I invited all 80 of my closest friends. It was fresh out of high school, so everyone still talked, and we were all hyped. This would be our first time attending some sort of adult function sans badly sandpapered IDs. Of course, The Paramount didn't serve liquor, but we were (still are) pregame champs. I'm from North Van; we were bred to drink hard alcohol around a marble kitchen island and an SLR camera in hand. 

A cozy 60 or so 17-18-year-olds showed up to this little theatre club in New Westminster. The locals filed out of the old-school-styled velvet seats as soon as they saw the young drunk newbie mob roll in. Eyes rolling as they walked by groups and groups of belligerent children like their first time in an adult candy store. However, it became showtime quickly, and everyone in the building was on board.

No one except for the seasoned few legal 19-year-olds had ever been to a strip club. However, this was no match to any ignored previous visits. The place was losing its mind. I was so excited I threw my $50 bill instead of the one-dollar bills I had gotten from TD earlier that day. A big tip for a broke teenager.

I was brought on stage for half of it, my young eyes blinded by stage lights but later gifted with an XS baby pink t-shirt with bold white font; I LOVE STRIPPERS the t-shirt read—Paramount Gentleman’s club in fine print below the tight-fitting font.

Hours later, when it came to leaving, the owner pulled me aside asked if he could speak to me. My heart dropped. Not on my birthday. Did we all just do something illegal? Are we in trouble? The thoughts were racing harder than the beat throughout the club all night. 

"Thank you for being such a good sport." He departed with a wink.

What the fuck?

The following years up to February 8th, 2021 regarding the strip club were brief DMs over tables for the night or for my friends while I lived in Montreal. Or unspeakable nights as my parents and colleagues read this every month.

I wish I could tell you these photos were from memory from my countess visits to downtown Vancouver. The way I saw the neon light hit everyone just right, the glow from the stage warming the audience's faces. Like every night out had been a rehearsal for this moment. I wish I could say this was from memory. It's more of freestyle.

See the rest of my month below.