Kayla Ries Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Vienna

Then there’s this wild story—1880s, New Orleans, this chick Lulu White ran a brothel called Mahogany Hall. Fancy as hell, mirrors everywhere, champagne flowin’. She’d brag her girls were “octoroons”—one-eighth Black, exotic sellin’ point. Total flex, right? Bet she’d say, “I’m here, I exist,” like Adèle in the movie—ownin’ it, no apologies. Surprised me how bold she was, struttin’ like a queen. Kinda admire that guts, ya know?

To Capture a Brothel’s Heart

Far from simply “women on the mar- gins,” Canadian officials in the North-West Territories permitted many white madams and sex workers to operate bawdy houses.

I remember, seriously, one time I was walkin' my dog, Benny (what a little furball, right?) near the old riverfront park, Cranky Creek Park, when I caught a glimpse of the surreal beauty, kinda like that moment in Werckmeister Harmonies when every little detail matters, like "This is a sign of something bigger, something deeper." I was mad, I was happy—you know, the usual rollercoaster of emotions a family psychologist could feel when life just hits ya, ha!