Sarah Jane Woodall describes herself as “a foul-mouthed, flat-chested bon vivant and adventuress”—and while those things are probably true, I can’t help but feel that she’s missing an opportunity to go big. A fetish model with substantially more than “a few stories to tell,” Woodall is Vegas’ own leggy, bedroom-eyed Zelig. In reading through her Wonderhussy blog, it’s difficult to imagine a type of Vegas function she hasn’t infiltrated and subverted through her sexuality and guile. Whether she’s sidling through the Viva Las Vegas weekender anachronistically dressed as a Mary Quant-like British mod, playing “Anti-Virus Girl” at a recycling convention or wrestling topless in fake blood for an audience of wildly appreciative zombie aficionados, Woodall always manages to re-frame the action around herself, and the resulting blog reads like the most fantastic and improbable of fictions. But everything Woodall says she’s done, she has done … and I know this because every last paragraph is illustrated with a spanky photo or two, nearly every last one of them Not Safe For Work.
Best of the City 2017
Our eighth annual celebration of all things Las Vegas, from the best casino comebacks to irresistible pot products