“You never forget your first girl,” goes the motto of St. Pauli Girl, the German beer with a drawing of a hot blond splashed across the label. Portrayed on the bottle of every St. Pauli Girl Lager, Special Dark, and Non-Alcoholic beer, she’s a winsome, girl-next-door type offering pitchers of beer to thirsty German dudes everywhere.
Almost every year for the past two decades, a new St. Pauli Girl is chosen to represent the German beauty and, of course, star in the St. Pauli Girl calendar. The image of St. Pauli Girl has strayed a bit from the original drawing. St. Pauli Girl 1977 ditched the usual garb for a pair of pink short shorts and an easygoing California girl smile. St. Pauli Girl ’83 looks like Cheryl Tiegs in a dirndl, wearing what appears to be a stewardess cap. By 1997, the dirndl, while still showcasing St. Pauli Girl’s copious bosom, seems to have been inexplicably eaten away by beer mice or rabid seventh-grade boys. It is currently a two-piece, with a top that bares her midriff and a skirt that ends at the top of her thighs.
We were luxuriating in our sumptuous office cubicle a few weeks back when an email popped into our inbox: “I work with St. Pauli Girl and wanted to let you know that the new St. Pauli Girl for 2005, Stacy Fuson, is coming to New York.” We busted out of work to meet her.
Stacy grew up in Tacoma, Washington, but currently lives in Los Angeles, California. She is five-foot-nine and weighs 120 pounds.
We arrived at Irish Rogue, a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Pushing past the many button-down suits crowded at the back, we finally spotted Stacy. Bummer. She was not outfitted in her dirndl with the midriff top and miniskirt. For nights out on the town, St. Pauli Girl apparently dresses more sedately, preferring a black knee-length skirt, a top that plunged in front, and four-inch heels, taking her to a towering six feet. When we hugged hello, we came up to her armpit. No, well, actually we fell into her armpit. But that was okay. She smelled really good. We think St. Pauli Girl wears Ban.
Stacy has been featured in major motion pictures, television commercials, and magazines, and is Playboy magazine’s Miss February 1999.
St. Pauli Girl did not find nudity “such a big deal” after a trip to Europe, where she visited the topless beaches there. As a Playmate, “some people think you’re wild and crazy, which I’m not,” she said. When St. Pauli Girl isn’t chillin’ at Hef’s House, she watches movies and goes to bed. St. Pauli Girl likes Three’s Company and I Love Lucy. Does St. Pauli Girl mind the crusty dudes who try to pet her? “Oh, um, you just gotta have patience,” she said. St. Pauli Girl regularly hits parties at the mansion, and you can see her in that episode of Entourage, where they visit Hef’s House.
We wanted dirt.
“Jeremy Piven—asshole in real life, huh?” we said.
St. Pauli Girl hedged.
“Little like his character, huh?” we pressed.
“Um. A little,” she finally said.
We wouldn’t give up.
“Seen Hef’s girls on that show? Evil bitches, yeah?”
“Oh . . . the show . . . it’s . . . funny,” she said. Alas, St. Pauli Girl had been preened to PR perfection.
The only thing that appears to get St. Pauli Girl excited is the new St. Pauli Boy in her life, some lucky asshole from Vegas, who works in pharmaceuticals. She admits she was skeptical at first about dating a guy who lived in Sin City, and apparently he feared dating a Playmate, but now they’re both very happy. “I totally love him,” she said. “This guy I prefer over any of the other guys I’ve dated—football players, celebrities. It doesn’t matter what you do or who you are, if you won’t treat me good.”
Stacy is very athletic—she enjoys rollerblading, swimming, volleyball, baseball, basketball, snowboarding, bowling, yoga, aerobics, boxing, horseback riding, mountain biking, and jet skiing.
St. Pauli Girl is a member of the Playboy’s Xtreme Team, a group of Playboy bunnies who compete in extreme sports like mountain climbing, skydiving and, incidentally, making regular middle-aged men reach glittering orgasm-heaven, contemplating the rhythmic dance that is the St. Pauli Girl bosom in motion. One day, St. Pauli Girl dreams of leaving acting and modeling to start her own business and a family—but “not in L.A.”
We won’t lie. We were running out of ways to bond with St. Pauli Girl. “Do you like shopping?” we asked, trying to rope her into a discussion of one our favorite hobbies. “It gives me a headache,” she replied, as her eyes started to wander away from our conversation and around the room. No! We were losing St. Pauli Girl’s attention! We’d been reduced to a slobbering, balding middle-aged dude with a St. Pauli Girl beer gut, looking forlornly at our hot-chick poster! HOW TO IMPRESS OUR ST. PAULI GIRL??
Now we know why “You never forget your first girl.” It reminds you of how much you sucked that night.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on October 11, 2005