Dear James —

What’s that game when you create your porn identity by adding the name of your first pet with the first street you lived on? Mine would be Milky Spring. Quite hot and pretty appropriate. Really the joke’s on me; I can thank my bohemian parents for already providing a perfect porno name in case I was so inclined to follow a calling in the sexual arts.

You can’t get more red-light district than Scarlett, a synonym for debasement and adultery, and Rouge, the French color we ladies slather on our lips and cheeks to advertise lusty yearnings. In truth, the name came about as a fluke: My mother named me Scarlett because she wished me to be born with our family’s ancien red hair, and my father (the American) added the Rouge because the Hun’s sister said it was the French translation of ‘scarlet’ — he thought the combination sounded like a famous chanteuse.

He knew when I was four that singing would be my obsession, landing me into the first girl band backed by DEVO, fronting for Nina Hagen; but that’s another story for a later post. For now let’s thank my Aunty Betty, ‘cause the real translation for scarlet is écarlate, which is dangerously close to écarter, meaning to spread one’s legs. I imagine she knew what he had in mind.

If this topic is hot in my mind it’s because I just received an x-rated email intended for another Scarlett Rouge, a sex worker — her real name is probably something like Carla Adams — who services an area in northern California. A couple of years ago, emails from her potential tricks were bombarding my inbox; her ad, which appears on myredbook.com — the Facebook of the sex industry — had mistyped her email address and put a dot when there should have been an underscore.

At first I felt hysterically outraged, then maybe after the third email I decided to have fun and started responding, telling the poor, lonely fellas I was not the girl they were looking for.

The somewhat sad fact is most of the guys were asking if I did “GF experience.” Never having heard the term, I imagined some kind of kinky strap me to the wall and whip me bondage, and when I inquired what they meant I got no response back. They probably thought I was the most retarded escort ever and no longer wanted anything to do with me. Still intrigued, I called one of my ex-boyfriends, who is a habitual sex consumer, and I couldn’t have been further from the truth. He said, “Uh, ‘GF experience’ means ‘girlfriend experience’. These guys want you to come over, make them dinner, give them a blowjob, then pretend to fall asleep in front of a boring action flick.” Okay, it’s probably not as desperate as that, but I did feel for these guys; coming over for kinky raw sex sounds better than pretending to be in an intimate relationship — that’s just downright pervy.

From Ken: Hi, do you come to the Santa Cruz area?  I’m looking for an overnight visit and a gfe gift?

Me: Hi Ken, unfortunately you have reached the wrong Scarlett Rouge. I have informed myRedBook that they have posted the wrong email address, but they seem slow to fix the problem. Soooo, I recommend that you contact the SR you are looking for via phone, I believe there is a number on her page.
Hope you have a nice evening,

Scarlett Rouge
The artist

The most touching email came from a young French boy working as an escort in Paris. He had seen some of my pics and thought I was “really glamorous with a great charisma,” and wanted to know if it was easy for me to work in the adult industry: “Do you like it?”

He went on to tell a bit of his experience, mainly — as he described it — “with mature women of a certain age.” To his surprise, I responded in French and told him I was sorry to inform that I was not the SR he was looking for. He answered with a link to my actual Facebook, saying, “Is this you??”

Yes, chéri, that is me, actually me and the name that is on my birth certificate, but I’m an artist in another industry. True, it also requires a kind of seduction and prostitution of another type to get ahead (don’t pardon the pun). Seriously: yesterday I told a friend a certain gallery is interested in showing my work and his knee-jerk reaction was the gallerist is known to be sleazy — I would probably have to sleep with him to get a show.

But, Miss Scarlett [I know nothing about birthing babies], ain’t that true about all industries, all transactions?

Don’t quote her, but I recall the adorable Hun saying that many good and constructive things can start from a playful fuck.

Getting back to a more recent email, the cake that takes home the prize. This one is from Mario, an Italian from Italy, not the Jersey Shore — I can tell by his email address and the broken English. Right off the bat he says… well, let’s have him speak for himself:

Subject: [hello+from+myredbook]
Hello, I am a 32 year old boy 6’0” tall
220 pounds
my name is mario
I would like to offer myself as an actor for one of your movies or photos
it would be possible
How Do I
Thanks

The confusing part is, as far as I know, the myRedbook Scarlett Rouge is just a hooker, while there is another more famous Scarlett Rouge who is, quite literally, a heavyweight in the porn world. You may have heard of her: she recently hit the headlines when she was incarcerated for murdering her boyfriend. She is likely the most famous overweight sex video star. If you Google ‘Scarlett Rouge’, you will see images of her eating a large sandwich while being sodomized.

(By the way, binge eating and getting cornholed are probably the my least-favorite things. God gave me three holes for sex, but there is only one that gets me off. Just saying.)

A few years ago when my art had caught the eye of an Italian curator, he Googled my name and was faced with images of another Scarlett Rouge. Yes, I admit I was a bit dejected that she is higher in the search-engine ranking then me, and yet still was proudly amused when he called our mutual friend to ask, scandalized, if I was an obese porno diva. To make circumstances even more droll, I was proposing a sculpture piece for his exhibition that represents, in the simplest of terms, a fertility goddess with a toothed vagina.  ‘Man-eater’ is not out of range for my paradigm, but eating while I’m with a man is.

In an earlier post I made it clear where I stand as far as my openly sexual education and erotic freedom. I can’t deny posing for a few nude pix myself. So the fact my name is a stage name for girls who get paid to give head or to take it up the jacksie while polishing off a ham and cheese on rye doesn’t actually bother me. If anything, I wish to elevate the class of all our basic needs beyond an act that is just simply a pleasurable activity.

I found this note-to-self regarding sex: “Let’s go and let go as a means to reach heights we deem as making love, aspiring towards a shared love, and giving an inspired love, the kind that I was taught art was intended to touch the participant with. Beyond mind and body, going deep within the feathers of a flying soul. What is above so is below.”

I am getting my sweet revenge on the intrusion my sex-worker namesakes have caused in my life. I am bring them into my world as they have brought me into theirs: I have a new mural in the works called Procrastination and Pornography. There will definitely be a cameo of all three Scarlett Rouges in it: artist, hooker, and porky porno diva.

And I’ll be sure to charge top dollar for it.

Bisous,

Scarlett xxx

P.S. Here is one more each of Fatty SR, Mario, and GF Experience SR:

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