San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
Stormy Daniels is headed to town — and the audience might not be who you would expect.
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Stormy Daniels isn’t going anywhere.
She’s kneeling, naked except for heels and a garter, at the edge of the Gold Club Centerfolds stage. It’s a Saturday night in early October, and after a three-song performance, the music has stopped and fans are lining up to thank her and give her money — sometimes sticking dollars to her oiled skin, some placing them playfully between “Thunder” and “Lightning” (her 36DD breasts). Unlike performers before her, she is lingering to greet people and the stage is covered with bills.
It’s not a normal night at the club in Rancho Cordova (Sacramento County). A regular tells me it’s usually mostly men, but tonight there are twice as many people as normal. It’s a mix of couples and women — women of color, same-sex couples, middle-aged women who look like they belong in Berkeley — and men, some wearing cowboy hats, some wearing Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops.
But Daniels is not a normal adult entertainer, and this is not a normal day.
It is the same day, Oct. 6, that Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed for the U.S. Supreme Court, four days after Daniels’ book, “Full Disclosure,” came out, and a week since Palo Alto University Professor Christine Blasey Ford shared details of an alleged sexual assault by Kavanaugh.
It is also 12 years since Daniels says she was invited into the Lake Tahoe hotel room of a reality-TV star who now controls all three branches of government and says that neither woman is telling the truth.
Both have become unlikely feminist heroes — but Daniels works in the sex industry, not at a university. In high school, she spent time at strip clubs rather than country clubs, and instead of getting a Ph.D. in psychology, she deferred two college scholarships to become an adult-film actor, screenwriter and director.
But like Ford, Daniels’ life has been irreversibly upended for daring to speak out against powerful men.
In doing so, she has forced us to not only reconcile big breasts with intellect, but she’s forced into the spotlight the illegal maneuverings of the president’s team, and added a significant bread crumb to the trail of unethical behavior that follows his administration.
Thus, what two years ago might have been a standard Saturday-night dance booking in Daniels’ decades-long career has turned into a chance for new fans to see her very much in the flesh — which is how I found myself on a two-hour drive from San Francisco to Rancho Cordova, curious about how one of the nation’s most infamous women would be received in the home state of legislators Nancy Pelosi, Dianne Feinstein, Kamala Harris and Maxine Waters.
Daniels will be in San Francisco for shows Nov. 9 and 10 at North Beach’s Penthouse Club & Restaurant.
I’d been reading “Full Disclosure” and checking @stormydaniels on Twitter while reluctantly following the drama of the Kavanaugh hearings. The day Daniels’ memoir came out, the Wall Street Journal reported that the president had directed his son Eric to help keep Daniels from talking — which would mean he lied about his knowledge of and involvement in the situation.
Like so many other elements about Daniels, her public relations process is not standard. Normally, when a journalist is assigned to cover an event, she arranges a ticket, and perhaps an interview, through a publicist.
I was surprised to get a response from Daniels’ public relations email — perhaps, someone wrote back, Daniels could answer a few questions by email, but I’d have to turn to the club for tickets. Then, the week of her performance, the trail went cold. When I called the club on Friday, Oct. 5, I learned that tickets were cash-only and sold only in person — and that Friday night’s performance was already selling out. I found someone who could buy them for me in Sacramento, but I was advised to arrive early, as I still might not get
a seat.
Gold Club Centerfolds is in Rancho Cordova, a city 20 minutes from downtown Sacramento, and at 8 p.m., the parking lot was already filled with the kinds of jacked-up pickups that are uncommon in San Francisco. It was an hour until Daniels’ first performance of the night, and although the club was crowded, there were still a few seats between the two stages.
Fox News was playing on half of the multiple TVs throughout the room; replays showed Ford during her testimony, and later, the president mocking a journalist in the Rose Garden.
The atmosphere was almost uncomfortably quiet and tame — no alcohol is sold at Gold Club Centerfolds, as it’s a fully nude club. Women danced to loud techno and rock music, climbing up two-story poles in — at most — a thong and “stripper shoes,” which are vertiginous platforms that add both weight and instability for the wearer.
Just before 9 p.m., when Daniels was slated to perform, the club began to fill. And then, it was her turn. Daniels came onstage to Lenny Kravitz’s “American Woman,” dressed in a sparkly red, white and blue
outfit that was far more intricate and layered than those of the women before her. Her heels were the simple black T-strap of ballroom dancers.
The crowd cheered and clapped, still relatively tame but grinning, a few approaching the stage to drop off dollar bills. Most seemed somewhat stunned that it really was her.
“I FOLLOW YOU ON TWITTER!” one woman in the front row shouted while Daniels kneeled down before her, having discarded most of her ensemble during the first song. For a second, Daniels seemed confused, then smiled and said, “Thank you.” The woman continued clamoring for attention, clearly unfamiliar with the “hot seat” etiquette of tipping generously while letting the performer dictate the interaction.
For her last song, also a rock song, Daniels squirted liquid all over her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Although she’s made no secret of her line of work, it’s somewhat shocking to see her in her natural habitat — naked, posing and arching her back — rather than wearing a button-down while talking to Anderson Cooper on “60 Minutes.” Her smile and confidence, however, were familiar. People were eager for a moment to lock eyes with her, to slip money into her garter, and she was generous with her appreciation and personal space.
It is a reminder that we — the general public — are new to her world, and this is just all in a day’s work. She’s given us permission to enter an environment that people have been traditionally hesitant to openly patronize — especially women.
Just like most everyone else, I lined up to take a $20 picture with the woman who had not only “Made America Horny Again” (a corny moniker that she doesn’t actually like), but who had allowed women to be full-dimensional humans who both think and have sex, and who won’t apologize for either.
I’d just finished Daniels’ book, which she wrote to share her side of the story. It was captivating not only because it describes a childhood riddled with neglect, but also maps out the timeline of a story that has played out by media but still seems largely lacking in basic details (why she originally denied the relationship, and why it became public when it did). It also humanizes a woman who has often been dismissed with the title of “porn star.” She’s smart, she’s funny; she is a mom, a writer, an equestrian — and she is very believable.
When it was my turn to meet her, she seemed weary but kind. In the picture we took together, her foot is perfectly pointed, her smile is open and enthusiastic.
I felt guilty for asking more of her, for taking her time and energy — asking for one more picture or just one quick question.
“What do journalists get wrong about you?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “That I was retired or just started stripping — that this is somehow new,” she said.
Stormy Daniels has always been here. It’s only her growing audience that is new.