A bodacious—compassionate—memoir

“Sugar Daddy culture is the patriarchy at its ugliest…. ‘Please Daddy, can I have some pocket money?’ is not autonomy, it’s not equality, and it’s far from easy money.”

If you’re a regular reader of The Muses’ Refugia, you know I have a fondness for anything and everything that comes out of Guts Publishing, perhaps the most daring and original publisher in the United Kingdom. They have yet to disappoint (and I’ve read them all).

In yet another tour de force, Guts brings us Lotte Latham’s bodacious memoir, Dear Mr Andrews. Here’s your opportunity to let your inner voyeur loose as you meet a sugar baby and her many daddies up close inside that nearly invisible world of young, beautiful women who offer their many charms to men in exchange not for money (as in prostitution) but for favors from clothes to shelter to clandestine vacations and everything in between.

Lotte is enchanting company, exuberant, ever frank, wise in her self-reflective whirl. She’s not ashamed of her vocation, rather takes some enjoyment from “what people would think. I’ve grown to love a judgmental look from a bystander.” She’s proud of her “bass-notes of tart.” She takes a “perverse joy” in her fuck-you attitude, admitting “I use my body as a weapon.”

I respect Lotte for her ability to look in the mirror and see not only her “Rubenesque” body, but a whole woman who has been “forced to confront their disposability like this.” In the end, she concludes with profound aplomb: “One has to laugh.”

So we jet with her from London to Berlin to Barcelona, back to Berlin, then London, again to Berlin and back to London. And if it’s hard to follow her peregrinations, wait until you meet the cast of sugar daddies from Theo, the porn director, to a chap from Memphis named Velvet Dusk, to Uncle Al and Rudy, her Covid daddies, and so many, many more. One chapter in Lotte’s escapades takes her to a hook-up exchange run by a German fellow who specializes in the “fetish market.”  Now there’s a concept I never expected to run across in my life!  And that’s part of the absolute fun of reading about this unusual lifestyle.

Or call it a career, and one that is not, of course, without its perils. As you’d imagine: drugs are sometimes involved. She writes of a night in Berlin where a potion called G20 (or GHB/GBL) is being consumed.  It’s sometimes referred to as a date-rape drug, akin to Ecstasy. Lotte reports to us: “It make you mad horny and buttery at the edges.” Having one night savored G20 (in safe company, mind you), I can say, “Exactly.” Lotte nailed it.

Oh, and Lotte has her lows. We find her one night “wrestling with my own internal angst.” But it’s when she does that—faces herself full-frontal—that her compassion arises for her daddies, and for us, her readers, as well. Perhaps for all humanity. She shows us exactly the truth of what she has learned as this over-the-hill 30-year-old candy girl: “how much loneliness there is in the world.”

Lotte’s lively voice comes alive at every turn—I kept getting the feeling as I was reading that she was right there in front of me, talking away, enjoying a glass of vino on the lanai. Sustained authenticity for 137 remarkable pages. My, what a fine stylist of precise, sparkling prose.

Of one of her daddies she writes:

Jean Laurence built sets at the opera, thus this taste was quite theatrical. With an impeccable eye for objects, mostly of French origin, he regularly returned to the house with things he had found in the street or the local antiques market. Quickly I came to learn that he collected girls too. The phrase ‘a great lover of women’ is apt for Jean Laurence, in fact, it was part and parcel of what being an artist meant to him. His craft was bound to ephemeral beauty. And his specialist interest was photographing what he called ‘The Rose of the Night.’ He saw the female orifice as a ‘a vessel of mystery’ which he would chase but would forever be elusive.

“Female orifice.” Brilliant diction.

In describing a client’s/daddy’s face at that moment just post-ejaculation, Lotte says: “It’s the threshold between playboy frivolity and the heaviness of real life. That look is the ‘Come Again Soon’ sign on the convenience store exit that is my pussy.” I have to admire a woman who can write a sentence like that. I’ve known men like that. Never could have said it as well.

Go ahead, readers, take a deep peek. What’s not to love about Dear Mr Andrews? Absolutely fucking nothing. Guts Publishing hits another one out of the cricket field. This book is a victory for all women.

(Photo by Mina Karenina of Hookers Against Hardships)

The Kindle version is available NOW at:

The paperback edition arrives in January! Stay tuned!

Website: https://www.gutspublishing.com/

Blog: https://www.gutspublishing.com/blog

facebook link to GP https://www.facebook.com/gutspublishing

Twitter handle: @GutsPublishing

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