Remember Miss SunShine Philly from the previous entry?
Not only did I have to go through the images and put twee little pink hearts over anything potentially offensive, to keep from losing more images, but then, in a discussion with the Baron, I discovered that Caledon at large has a better acquaintance with Miss Philly than I knew previously.
For anyone who doesn't know, some months back, there was a fairly clueless lass who came into Caledon, and immediately began soliciting gentleman for the express purpose of...hrm...I'm not even sure I can say "horizontal adventuring", I think the nearest alley would have sufficed.
We heard tales of her, there were sightings, there were gentlemen--without and with female companions--accosted by this...sumptuously-endowed presence...and offered the bargain-basement price of fifty Lindens to test-drive her.
Look. Here's the thing. I am not the champion for moral rectitude, I b'lieve I've mentioned this before. And I'm not asking anyone to take sides on the sex trade in Second Life--you're for, you're against, by and large, that's fine, as long as you stay away from certain words while I'm listening. I have no other problems. Morality is not precisely my reason for raising this again.
But at my lowest, at my absolute beginning-nearly-free level, with no one knowing who I was or what I could do--I charged five hundred Linden per hour. And that was when I was first starting out.
And friends and neighbors, even at my height of two thousand per thirty minutes? That was still low. I knew ladies in the trade who routinely pulled in five thousand, ten thousand Linden a session, and all far before the advent of voice.
To charge fifty Linden--to brazenly, openly, proclaim that she, as a woman and a free soul, is worth no more to any stranger viewing her than that--that deeply bothers me. That, you see, offends me.
The outfit is just baffling. Not possible in real life? Well, maybe. But trust me, there'd be back strain. And a better regard for fashion, ye gods!
Moving on. In my travels this evening--missing the opening of Giverny, drat it all, but I'd promised myself earlier I would go on the Kissed hunt with the extended group--I found the Village.
Yes. That Village.
We wandered through Yellow Jester, a small cheerful store that seems to specialize in Renaissance furniture, bone ladders, and flesh puppetry.
In the Village.
In a cheerful little lemon-yellow bungalow, leading out onto a lawn bedecked with striped awning-covered carts packed with free things.
You can nearly smell the sea.
I told everyone I was with that, should Rover come around the corner, I was so hitting the panic button for home. Thankfully, that never happened. But still. It's creepily authentic.
If you ever had a love for the Village, you should definitely wander through. Or...maybe not. I mean, who knows--Rover just might be lurking around a corner!