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Culture

The Inside View

October 06, 2026

The first time I stepped into a strip club, I was struck by the fascinating dynamic of the exchange. The client pays for attention, intimacy and a certain kind of experience, while the stripper decides how to create and shape that experience. There’s something intriguing about the balance between them: money changes hands, but so does attention, energy and a sense of connection.

Aimie entered the scene in 2017 as a dancer at Paris's Whisper Club. The stage, the cash, the adrenaline, the chaos and the backstage family quickly became an obsession for her.

Armed with a camera, she began documenting the reality of her coworkers across international clubs and unspoken codes.

Here is her exclusive series for Office Magazine, sneaking back into The Whisper Club: photographed by her, directed by me.

Interview and Words by Ella Marciano
Photography by Aimie

What is the most common icebreaker a client uses when he sits down?

Usually, it’s more up to us to make contact and find a little way to start the conversation. But obviously, some clients will come straight over to us.

It can start simply by telling us that they find us very beautiful, or with a more direct and less classy approach like, “How much?”

I’ve often had the classic “you remind me of someone,” followed by “some actress,” or more recently, “I think I’ve seen you in an X-rated movie…”

When a guy is trying to play it cool, what’s the giveaway that he's actually nervous?

It depends on the person.

Some guys act way too comfortable in these places, as if they already know all the codes. They talk a lot, with this little need to put themselves forward and show that they supposedly don’t need to be there to find a girl.

They play the mysterious guy, the guy who has the whole situation under control…

But it’s actually when they try a little too hard to seem relaxed that you realize they’re probably trying to hide something.

How quickly does a first-timer's posture change once they settle into the space?

Very quickly. Sometimes after the very first dance. At first, they can be a little more reserved.

Then, once they understand how things work, they start finding their feet.

That’s when they can start wanting to test the limits, set their own conditions, or go from one dance to another with different dancers…

What’s the best part of guiding someone through the experience for the very first time?

Ah, the first private dance… It’s always quite fun to do, because you’re almost certain to see him leave the room pretty excited, already wanting more. It’s also at that point that you can turn them into a returning client.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a first experience that went badly… quite the opposite. It’s often their first real glimpse of what goes on behind the curtains of the red rooms.

How do you navigate the quiet grief or loneliness that so many clients accidentally bring into the room with them?

We’re all a little lonely, in our own way.

We’re not there to solve their problems, but if we can give them a good time, listen to them a little and offer them a little escape, that’s already something.

What is the unspoken negotiation happening in the room that nobody ever talks about?

It’s a bit of a performance…

He comes looking for a fantasy, and we make that fantasy come to life through the service we provide.

Everyone knows the rules… but they’re not necessarily said out loud.

When a client completely embraces the mutual exchange, what does that dynamic look like?

It’s smooth.

He enjoys himself, and we enjoy the exchange too.

And if he’s a gentleman, pleasant, and has no problem pulling out his card to have a good time : bingo! Good night.

Is attraction from strippers just a choreography?

A lot of it is choreography, yes. We’re there to make money by selling a service and we have to keep moving from one client to the next. We adapt to what each man wants to see. Whether he wants to feel desired, admired or just special. That’s part of the job.

But sometimes, you genuinely have a good time. In a strange way, it’s almost like speed dating every night. Sometimes you click with someone. You have a great conversation, you laugh, or you just genuinely enjoy his company.

So yes, we’re performing, but that doesn’t mean everything is choreography. Sometimes you’re playing a fantasy while still being completely yourself.

Where’s the line between real intimacy and a damn good show?

Good question. I’ve always felt there’s a form of intimacy in giving a lap dance. You’re physically close, sharing yourself, naked, grinding on a guy, even if it’s part of the show. But real intimacy is something else; and a hundred times more precious.

When you dance for different men every night, you learn the difference :

You can perform intimacy, but choosing someone because you genuinely want to be close to them, it’s a whole different kind of chemistry.

What kind of attention actually costs top dollar?

Probably acting like you could be his girlfriend or lover. It’s the fantasy of having you in his life that can make them spend a fortune :)

Culture

Unzipped Is Back in Fashion

More than 30 years after the film was first released, Unzipped is returning to theaters in a newly restored 4K version at Tribeca’s Film Forum this week. Following Friday’s first screening, writer, director, actor, activist, and lifelong Mizrahi fan Dunham moderated a conversation with the man of the hour, alongside director Douglas Keeve and executive producer and former brand partner Nina Santisi. Dunham, who recalled the thrill of attending Mizrahi’s fashion shows with her mother throughout the ’90s, dressed for the occasion in a vintage 1994 Mizrahi piece sourced from Vestiaire Collective, matching Mizrahi’s quick wit and charisma as the two bantered their way through the conversation. She recalled Unzipped as the first documentary she had ever seen, one that propelled her hunger for more and whose freshness continues to inspire her today. “It was a new idea to let fashion be funny,” she said. “Fashion was so deathly serious.”

Beginning with Mizrahi reeling from a scathing review of his previous show, the black-and-white fever dream follows him through the fittings, sketches, strange flashes of inspiration, anxieties, and last-minute chaos behind his Fall 1994 collection. ’90s icons Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista, and a young Kate Moss float in and out, but it’s Mizrahi’s exuberant, completely unfiltered personality that carries the film. “You were a one-liner machine,” Dunham told him. “It’s like going to the greatest improv show I’ve ever seen.” He teases, dances, sings, and ricochets between panic and delight, foreshadowing a career that has since expanded across television, theater, and cabaret.

It was a new idea to let fashion be funny. Fashion was so deathly serious.

“Haven’t you ever seen a damn ballet before?” Mizrahi exclaims at one point, as those around him struggle to understand his idea of separating the runway from backstage with a translucent scrim. Capturing Mizrahi’s humor, instinctiveness, and spontaneity, the seemingly chaotic idea comes to life in the final runway show, with Keeve’s camera physically positioned on the runway to capture it. Behind the scrim, dressers scramble to dress models, who emerge on the other side with poise, polish, and levity. The ballet-inspired set reveals the chaos behind a fashion production while preserving the fantasy on the runway, a risk that ultimately became a highlight of the collection. And after spending most of its runtime in black-and-white, Unzipped suddenly bursts into color for the finale— which, as Dunham noted, captures the sheer joy of watching everything finally come together.

In retrospect, Mizrahi said one of his favorite parts of the documentary is how it captures a fashion industry before the teams of stylists and production companies that now surround major runway productions. He styled the collection himself, made his own dresser cards, and organized the shoe changes, while Santisi handled the scrim that allowed the audience to glimpse the shoe pass backstage. Today, Mizrahi said, fashion can feel “over-prepared.” “I think people like surprise,” he added. “And there’s no surprise anymore in fashion.”

As the panel wrapped, Dunham asked what they hoped would resonate most with viewers today. She herself shared that Unzipped still inspires her to make things, reminding that good art should always make her a little jealous. Mizrahi, with a laugh, exclaimed, “Tell all your straight friends to come and be gay!”

Culture

Skin Hunger: Camraface for Noén

October 01, 2026

For Noén, perfume, oil, and touch are at the foundation of everything they do. Inspired by Cleopatra's Egypt and made in New York, the brand's products prioritise human connection. Their new campaign, shot by Camraface, explores the tenderness and sensuality of human touch—and how we are so deprived of it.

"We are living through a quiet famine of touch. Everything is designed to be looked at, and almost nothing to be felt. Camraface's images ask us to come back to our senses — to remember that intimacy isn't only romance or in the bedroom. It's being close enough to be seen. That's what Noén is for," said Natalie Mankarious, founder of Noén.

Read our conversation with Los Angeles-based photographer Camraface below.

Photography by Camraface
Creative Direction and Production by Bo Don
Production by 010 Creative
Styling by Victor Cordero
Models Arta Gee and Irene Bueso

What does intimacy mean to you?

Intimacy to me is trust. It's that moment when someone lets their guard down and you get to see something real. It doesn't necessarily have to be romantic or sexual. It can be a look, a gesture, being comfortable enough to be vulnerable, or even just being still with someone. I think intimacy is really about feeling safe enough to be seen.

How does intimacy show up in your work as a photographer?

I've always photographed people pretty instinctively. I don't like to over-direct or make things feel too perfect. I want people to forget about the camera a little bit. A lot of my work is about getting close, physically and emotionally, and catching those little moments in between the "pictures" — the things that feel almost private. I think that's where intimacy shows up most in my work, in the moments that don't feel performed.

What inspired the images you created for Noén and Made to Be Touched?

The name Made to Be Touched really says so much on its own. I wanted the images to actually feel tactile, like you could almost feel them rather than just look at them. Skin, closeness, texture, movement, the way bodies naturally exist together. I didn't want it to feel overly polished or posed. I wanted it to feel human, sensual and a little imperfect. Like you're witnessing a moment instead of being shown one.