Back in 2014, a woman called Stephanie contacted me at The Rialto Report. She described herself as ‘a designer of erotic costumes’ and shared some memories of the old days when she said she’d made garments for many people in the early adult film business. Vanessa del Rio, Gloria Leonard, Bambi Woods, and others, she said. I must admit I didn’t follow up very quickly – after all, I reasoned, isn’t the point of erotic films just to take your clothes off?
A dumb reaction, I know, but a little while later, I did pick up the phone and called her, and the conversation we had was as surprising as it was entertaining.
Yes, she had made extravagant costumes for porn stars and sex films, and strippers, sex-club members, cross-dressers, hookers, and drag queens – but that was just the tip of the iceberg. She told me how she’d emerged from a difficult childhood to become a successful, Black burlesque dancer in the seedy Times Square bars and theaters of 1960s and 1970s New York. In fact, she’d used the stage name, Tanqueray. She’d been part of numerous illicit schemes to sell stolen goods. She’d had a regular column called ‘Tattle Tales’ in the men’s magazine, High Society that detailed her outrageous sexploits. It was a fascinating life story populated by mobsters, pimps, thieves, and dancers, and even Donald Trump’s coke dealer (allegedly) made an appearance. “It was a time when 10,000 men in New York City knew my name,” she said.
When I spoke to her she was in her 70s, long retired, and suffering from ill-health, money issues, and the feeling that she’d been long forgotten. I liked her: she was always smart, often filthy, invariably rude, and usually hilarious. She called me ‘White Boy’ and told me I needed to be fashionable. And after many years of being taken advantage of, she was also suspicious and short-tempered – which she readily admitted.
After our first call, we kept in touch, exchanging greetings cards and sometimes meeting up in Madison Square Park. She was lonely she said, but not enough to make any new friends. Very few people were worth the effort.
And then in 2019, something unexpected happened. A hugely popular social media account called Humans of New York, which features interviews with everyday New Yorkers, ran into Stephanie in the street in her Chelsea neighborhood and featured her in a post. Brandon Stanton, the creator of Humans of New York, was initially struck by her style but was drawn in by the same crazy stories that she’d told me.
“My stripper name was Tanqueray,” Stephanie told Brandon. “Back in the seventies, I was the only Black girl making white girl money and I danced in so many mob clubs that I learned Italian.”
That first post went viral, with millions following her life story over the next weeks as it unfolded on Facebook and Instagram posts.
And so began the third act in Stephanie’s life: suddenly she was an overnight sensation – after over 70 years of waiting. People from all over the world wanted to get in touch with her. In truth, the least surprised person was Stephanie herself. She took her newfound fame in her stride, remaining as unfiltered, coarse, and caustic as she’d always been.
Stephanie and I recorded many of our conversations, and this is her story.
This podcast is 39 minutes long.
Photos courtesy of Humans of New York.
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Stephanie and Carmine
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The post Tanqueray – I’ve Always Been Different, Part 1: Podcast 163 appeared first on The Rialto Report.
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