Victoria Tidaholm Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Stockholm

Now, me, I’d waltz in—godly charm, y’see? “I’m gonna carve my name here!”—Tarantino style, but with less scalpels, more swagger. Met this lass once, worked a brothel in Amsterdam—said she paid taxes, had a union! Blew my mind, mate! Thought it’d be all seedy, but nah—organized as Odin’s beard! Got me thinkin’—why’s everyone so uptight ‘bout it? Happy folks makin’ a livin’, who’s hurt? Pissed me off, tho—the judgy pricks outside, yellin’ “sinner!” Hypocrites, all of ‘em—prob’ly sneakin’ in later!

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Anyway, I finally get to the first client. She’s this sweet old lady named Ingrid. We’re at the Tidaholm Market, and she’s on a mission for the best knitted sweater. I’m thinking, “This is gonna be easy-peasy.” But nooo, she wants it in a specific shade of lavender that doesn’t exist. I’m like, “Ingrid, lavender is not a color, it’s a mood!” But she’s not having it.

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