In part reflecting those same shifting sensibilities, politicians at various levels have added their weight to the anti-stripping pile-on. But with heightened awareness about sexism and misogyny in the workplace – particularly in light of movements such as #MeToo – these old boys’ traditions are becoming increasingly frowned upon. In addition to the lonely and the lecherous, and even the giggly voyeurs, strip clubs have long served as go-to spots for businessmen holding lunches and client meetings, sometimes even on the company card. Such clubs occupy a blurry role in our modern world. John, and such big cities as Toronto and Montreal are feeling a chill. ![]() But even border towns such as Windsor, Ont., oil hubs like B.C.’s Fort St. Yukon and Nunavut have no permanent strip clubs, and in Saskatchewan they have long been outright banned. Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island both became strip-club free this year. Once a staple of afterwork – and even midday – distraction, venues such as the Cotton Club have disappeared from several major cities, and even entire provinces, across Canada. In the face of urban gentrification, online entertainment and shifting cultural tastes, these are dying institutions. The pared-back disposable income of blue-collar workers – and not just from the oil patch – is just one of the many broad, long-term factors contributing to the near-complete demise of the Canadian strip club. ![]() Cotton Club manager Jacquie Tew pulls open the curtains before opening.
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