The Montreal Mirror’s first issue hit the streets in June of 1985, and two months later—when I was 17—so did I, leaving the bland hell of the West Island to live in glorious, cosmopolitan NDG. My entire life as an independent adult has taken place alongside this magazine, and in the fall of 1994, nine years after its inception, I joined its staff. I am now one of its most senior writers.

Juliet Waters, the books contributing editor, told me the Mirror was looking for a sex columnist. Weeklies were just beginning to see the advantage of having one, and people like Josey Vogels and Anka Radakovich were making this a popular forum. This was what I included in my CV when I applied to the Mirror to be theirs:

(1) Some scripts of a terrible pornographic comic book I wrote for Eros, the adult division of Fantagraphics. Laboured and contrived stories about strippers and dominatrixes and heroin addicts and ghosts of Nancy Drew and whatever other grim yet gratuitously mundane references I could cram in for hipster value. I cringe with shame whenever I think about it.

(2) Some copies of my column in the Concordian called “The Unexamined Life.” Those of you who remember this column will recall that I reviewed a poutine every week. As well, I imitated Lynda Barry’s style of putting a humorous moniker in quotes between my first and last names.

(3) A sample column (written on a typewriter). It was about vaginal infections. I had gone to a doctor, had a Pap smear, then revealed, film noir style, that I was doing a story. Also a cringe-worthy memory.

The one piece of wisdom I didn’t include was perhaps my greatest asset: the fact that I was a stripper. In the politically correct anti-sex work climate of the early ’90s, I felt that it might be damaging to my writerly status.

The Mirror hired me, and so I began, dangerously under-qualified and full of uncertainty and enthusiasm. Initially, the most important thing to me was being funny and sarcastic, and I did so, often at the expense of sound information. To be fair, it was difficult finding sound information at that time because local purveyors of quality adult products and workshops, like Sebastian Yeung of Joy Toyz, were few and far between. For the first few years I didn’t answer questions, I just wrote about sexy stuff: places in Montreal where you could get breakfast, haircuts and car washes from naked ladies—perhaps you recall the whole “Sexee” trend. I made the usual mean-spirited remarks about swingers, interviewed my colleagues at Chez Parée about sex toys they liked (since I didn’t yet have any of my own), got my nipple pierced, took my boyfriend to Cinéma l’Amour and gave him a hand job, and recorded it all dutifully in my column.

When I began, I was 26, and way too inexperienced to be writing a sex column. Now that I’m 37, I know that I will always be way too inexperienced to be writing a sex column. When people call me a sexpert, I correct them, and not just because I hate cutesy portemanteau words, but because I am not and I will never be a sexpert. Sex is too mysterious, too transparent, too sacred, too profane, too fluid and too strategic for anyone to ever be an expert about it. The only thing that has changed is that my sources and frame of reference are monumentally better, and I don’t find it quite as important to conceal my callow ignorance with snotty wisecracks.

As I mentioned, this year I too, am celebrating 20 years “on the streets.” I cannot look back on this time without acknowledging the impact the Mirror has had on me, both personally and professionally. And now, living in Toronto, it is the lifeline to my greatest love: the heartbreakingly beautiful city of Montreal. As I write this, I imagine the mountain in its autumnal brilliance, the late-year quality of the sun in the Jean Talon Market as it hits the pumpkins and bouquets of dappled ornamental corn, and the unequivocal, sensual charm on every single street. I’ve never been good at long distance relationships, and with any luck, this one will reconnect before the Mirror turns 25.

Got any questions for Sasha? Write her at
465 McGill Street, 3rd floor, Montreal, Quebec, H2Y 4B4
Fax: 393-3173
e-mail: pouledeluxe@yahoo.com