Claire Simmering Brothel ❤️

About Innsbruck

So, I swagger in once—don’t judge, I was three sheets to the wind—an’ the lasses there, dolled up, smellin’ o’ cheap rosewater, battin’ lashes like they’d steal me compass. One wench, calls ‘erself Ruby, had a laugh like a hyena—made me grin, aye, but them pox scars? Nearly keeled over! Little known fact, savvy? Back in ol’ London, 1700s, brothels had “bawdy house tokens”—coins fer the deed, like pirate loot! How’s that fer clever?

FRISEUR TATAR + OPEN STUDIO

Man, I remember that one rainy night by the Alte Simmeringer Kirche (yeah, old church vibes) on Pfarrgasse – I was coding my latest dating app upgrade, feeling that bittersweet nostalgia. “I mean, you gotta love the chaos!” just like Spike Lee’s dialogue in moments of rebellious charm. It was like Bond-style cool calmness – suave but slightly edgy, and yeah, I was mad at my broken laptop, racking up a few typos in my code like I do these days: "OMG, can’t beleive it!"