Breastaurants have peaked in the last decade, offering the same typical items you’d expect from a bar but with a twist; the servers are very sociable ladies dressed in skimpy costumes that leave very little for the imagination. And yes these special restaurants are quite successful. I mean come on, sex sells.
I’m assuming most of you have heard of or experienced this growing market; Hooters, Twin Peaks, Mug & Jugs, Tilted Kilt, just to name a few. From skin-tight tank tops, matched with booty-shorts that rest slightly above the buttocks, these breastaurants have taken advantage of uncovering the female body.
I know what you’re thinking because I’ve been there, literally. I’ve been both a spectator and a participant. How could these girls wear those things and call it work? Or maybe you think wow! That is brave. Or maybe you feel pity. All of these thoughts came rushing into my mind when I first stepped foot inside the Tilted Kilt.
Arriving at the recently-opened bar, girls dressed in what looked like schoolgirl uniforms, bare stomachs showing, stood by wooden doors, advertising— well, themselves! I couldn’t help but judge these girls based just on where they chose to work.
Recently unemployed, I had brought a resume to apply. However, I parked and left my resume in the car. There was no way! I enter and I’m overly welcomed, swarmed by an army of girls. Even as a female, I could not help but stare at their chests. These uniforms were built to accentuate and exaggerate the female figure. And if the girl had breast implants? Then it’s like you’re hypnotized.
The owner approached me and he insisted I get my resume from my car. I did. Four days later, I was interviewed and tried the uniform that same day. Something had changed. Trying it on gave me an adrenaline rush and made it feel like Halloween.
The costume felt somehow official as if I was part of an exclusive team. And mannn, did I feel sexy. I was offered the job, immediately accepted and was surprised at how quickly my perspective changed.
This was the first restaurant that encouraged you to sit with your tables. Make each guest a regular. Think of this as the adult Disney World. A little touch goes a long way. We were told of stories of servers receiving ridiculously amazing gifts. Plane tickets. iPads. I didn’t believe it.
A few weeks after opening, I quickly gained my own stories to tell.
Creeps? Yes, of course. I remember vividly having a table of 3 men, one of which took a particular interest in me— and not in the obscure kind of way where I have to infer. I like you. I like you so much, I want to take you on vacation. Where’s your section? What amount of tips would make tonight a good night? Well, tonight you’re good. His bill was $150. He tipped me 100%. $150.
I learned to think on my feet, quickly dishing out smart remarks and responses that generated waves of laughter. I became more social and flirty. My confidence grew. I felt even more comfortable in my own skin, and rightly so— it was basically half my uniform. The attention fed my ego, which gave me apparent satisfaction. I began to crave it. This combined with the most money I’d ever made made it feel like the perfect job.
I gained dozens of new, open-minded, chill-as-fuck friends that I still keep in touch with. I made new connections that contributed to a bigger professional network. Every day was different; you never knew what kind of people you’d meet, which kept work exciting.
But, it was too much partying. You meet tons of people who also want to party— people who have huge houses and brag about having apparently unlimited amounts of “goodies”. Just bring your TK girls!
Although confident in my own self-perception, being surrounded by this environment daily, affected me— in the subconscious way. You become desensitized, and things that you typically would be surprised with become normal. You stop cringing when strange men make sexist-as-fuck jokes. You lose the perception of what self-respect means. At the end, I couldn’t shield myself from these changes and made the decision to take what I gained and go.
Although the stereotypes with breastaurants have some truth, as with all stereotypes there are exceptions. The customers are not always creeps and the servers are definitely not whores, it’s all a business. But hold off on the judgement; running the business and living the lifestyle isn’t as easy as it looks.
Featured Image from Flickr