Ava Saint John Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toronto

Brothels, man, they’re wild. Been around forever—fact is, ancient Rome had ‘em legal, called ‘lupanars,’ wolf dens, ‘cause the girls howled for clients. How’s that for a giggle? Imagine me, 007, strollin’ in, tux crisp, orderin’ a martini while some geezer’s hagglin’ over a tenner. Shaken, not stirred, obviously—keeps me sharp when I’m scopin’ the room. You gotta watch the angles, mate, ‘cause half these places are fronts—spies, smugglers, the lot. Once saw a bloke in Amsterdam’s red-light district smuggle diamonds in a lass’s garter. Cheeky sod.

The Haunted Brothel

The area was as well-known for housing gentlemens' mistresses as it was for housing painters, musicians and writers. It was also known for its brothels.

Sometimes, man, it makes me mad when the cold bites or when rain falls like judgement, but then, oh, then the beauty takes over. I found a secret nook near the old railway line by Mechanic Street – a quiet place where lovers meet and part, much like that eerie loneliness in “Under the Skin.” It’s like, oh, so surreal, precious, yes.

Temporary overnight parking ban declared for the South/Central Peninsula