The phrase “welcome to Chippendales” echoes both the seductive allure of male striptease and the gritty underbelly of ambition turned obsession. The limited miniseries Welcome to Chippendales, dramatizing the rise and ruin of the founding figure, Somen “Steve” Banerjee, captures a world where fantasy had a dark price. By blending journalistic precision with imperfect, human storytelling, we explore how this story reveals truths about entertainment, entrepreneurship, and the fragility of the American Dream.
In the late 1970s, Banerjee—an Indian immigrant working at a gas station—purchased a failing bar called Destiny II in Los Angeles. After several failed gimmicks, he and promoter Paul Snider (initially the visionary) pivoted toward male exotic dance for women, creating what would become Chippendales. The distinctive “cuffs and collar” look, licensed with help from Playboy’s Hugh Hefner, quickly became iconic. What began as a quirky novelty grew into a cultural phenomenon, tapping into women’s evolving desires and a previously untapped entertainment niche.
“He did create the space where women could express their sexuality… but that was not why he created that space. He was trying to just make money.” – Kumail Nanjiani reimagining Banerjee’s ambition
Chippendales transformed from its sleazy roots into a Broadway-style revue under Nick De Noia, an Emmy-winning choreographer whose talent gave the brand structure and respectability. Yet, his growing visibility sparked Banerjee’s insecurity and jealousy. A napkin deal granting De Noia touring rights “in perpetuity” became a weapon in their clash—Banerjee signed without understanding the implications.
This conflict isn’t just backstage drama; it’s emblematic of how entrepreneurship often clashes with ego. De Noia’s creative genius propelled the brand, but Banerjee’s inability to separate credit from control set the stage for darker theatrics.
As Chippendales soared, scandal trailed closely. Banerjee faced a lawsuit for racial discrimination after implementing de facto membership cards aimed at excluding people of color. This led to a settlement requiring a hiring quota and commitments to Black vendors.
Financial missteps followed: a 1987 calendar misprint titled “February with 31 days” cost hundreds of thousands—a painful irony, considering Banerjee’s family printing background.
Then came the violence. Banerjee orchestrated the murder of De Noia in 1987 via hired gunmen. He also plotted arson attacks on competitors and murder-for-hire schemes targeting dancers who defected to rival troupes in England. One hitman’s moral crisis—staking out a suitcase of cyanide—led to a confession and brought Banerjee down.
When FBI informants caught up with him, Banerjee was arrested in 1993 on charges ranging from racketeering to solicitation to commit murder. Hours before sentencing in late October 1994, he died by suicide in his jail cell.
Even after Banerjee’s demise, Chippendales endured. The brand evolved into international touring shows and a Vegas staple, and recent years saw an intriguing development: dancers seeking unionization to gain benefits and fair treatment.
This modern twist reframes Chippendales not just as entertainment, but as a workplace with shifting power dynamics. Performers—once mere entertainers—are asserting their labor rights, spotlighting a broader cultural reckoning with gig economy and performer protections.
This is not a clean, linear success story. It’s filled with human contradictions: ambition that fueled social change and destruction in equal measure, artistry shadowed by cruelty, liberation entwined with exploitation. The surreal—February with 31 days, cyanide plans, napkin contracts—unfolds as tragic, absurd, and deeply compelling.
The miniseries doesn’t shy away from these contradictions, instead embracing them. Its strength lies in showing how illusion and darkness danced together—how a brand built on fantasy could be built by fractures.
The saga behind Welcome to Chippendales is far more than feather boas and falsetto. It’s a dramatic lesson in power, identity, and how thin the line can be between spectacle and scandal. Banerjee’s story forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about success and exploitation, while reminding us that, sometimes, the most glamorous narratives hide the most human chaos.
What inspired the creation of Chippendales?
The concept originated in 1979 when Somen “Steve” Banerjee converted a failing club into a male revue, inspired by performances at gay clubs and reinvented with a feminine-focused marketing spin.
How accurate is Welcome to Chippendales compared to real events?
The series follows the true story closely, including De Noia’s murder and Banerjee’s legal troubles, though some dramatized elements—such as De Noia’s “US Male” pitch—are fictionalized for narrative effect.
Did Chippendales really have racially discriminatory policies?
Yes. They were sued for excluding Black patrons and employees; the settlement required Black hiring quotas and outreach spending as corrective measures.
What happened to Steve Banerjee?
He was arrested in 1993 for orchestrating murder and arson. Facing convictions and sentencing, Banerjee died by suicide in jail on October 23, 1994, hours before his sentencing.
Is Chippendales still performing today?
Yes. The troupe continues touring and maintains a long-running Las Vegas residency. In recent years, dancers have initiated efforts to unionize to seek better wages, benefits, and protections.
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