For Porcelain Victoria, a 26-year-old sex worker in Scotland, the job offers more than just a livelihood—it provides freedom, flexibility, and, crucially, the means to care for her child. After eight years in the profession, she’s clear-eyed about her choices and the challenges she faces. “I really enjoy how liberating it is and, of course, that it brings a smile to my clients’ faces,” she told BBC. “In any service business, you want to bring a smile to your customer's face, whether you're a chef, a plumber, or a salesperson.”
Victoria’s journey into sex work began at 18, a decision made in the shadow of domestic violence. “I started prostitution when I was 18, which was a way to escape domestic violence,” she explained. Now, with years of experience behind her, she has no plans to stop. “I plan to do this as long as I can. I'd like to do this into my sixties,” she said. Her long-term goal? To semi-retire and become a counselor, helping individuals and couples explore their sexuality, especially regarding fetishes and kinks.
Yet, Victoria’s future—and that of many sex workers like her—hangs in the balance as Scotland debates a controversial new law. Independent Member of the Scottish Parliament (MSP) Ash Regan has introduced a bill that would criminalize paying for sexual services, a legal approach known as the Nordic model, first adopted in Sweden. Under this proposal, selling sex would remain legal, but purchasing it would become a misdemeanor. Sex workers would have a legal right to support, and past convictions for offering services would be wiped clean. However, the operation of brothels would remain illegal.
Regan, who previously ran for the leadership of the Scottish National Party, argues that her bill would protect women by reducing demand for prostitution. “Clients are currently in a much better position than sex workers and often use this to exploit women's vulnerability,” she stated. “So they're told 'If you don't do what I say, I'll report you to the police.' In the Nordic model, things are changing. Women in prostitution can tell a client: 'No, I won't comply with that request, I'll call the police.' It doesn't sound like much, but it's a subtle shift in power that, I think, gives greater security and greater safety to those working in prostitution.”
Despite Regan’s assurances, many sex workers are deeply concerned. Victoria, who works in the Fife area, believes that criminalizing clients will only drive the industry underground, making her work—and that of her colleagues—riskier and less profitable. “There will be fewer clients who will want to approach us and pay us,” she warned. “If I worked a normal nine-to-five job, I wouldn't be able to pay the bills.” She’s not alone in her worries.
Amelia (not her real name), another Edinburgh-based sex worker, echoes Victoria’s concerns. She entered sex work six years ago after grueling shifts in the hospitality industry and a stint on OnlyFans. “I was criticized quite harshly at work, despite being a pretty hard worker. I felt like no matter what I did, I was just never good enough,” she recalled. “I started working OnlyFans several years. And then, through the internet, Instagram, and meeting other sex workers, I realized I was quite interested in doing live sex work.”
Amelia is skeptical that the Nordic model will do anything to reduce violence against women. “The proposal is pointless and will not work because violent clients who wanted to hurt you were breaking the law anyway,” she said. “A client who wants to hurt me will do so, regardless of whether the Nordic model is applied or not.” She fears that the law would deter “good” clients—those who might otherwise provide personal information for safety reasons—from coming forward. “If I could sit down with a politician and show him how I do the reservation process, they would immediately see all the ways the Nordic model would make me unsafe,” she argued. “If I can't get a client's name, age, phone number, I won't feel safe at work. I could never accept a client's reservation without their name.”
Regan, however, dismisses such fears. “That's complete nonsense,” she said. In her view, the bill would empower sex workers by shifting the balance of power away from clients and toward those selling sex.
Not everyone on the side of sex workers opposes the bill. Brona Andrew, Operations Manager of TARA (Trafficking Awareness Raising Alliance), a group supporting victims of human trafficking, strongly backs Regan’s proposal. Her support is rooted in stark statistics: “Between April and September this year, we provided support to a group of 124 women,” Andrew told BBC. “In that six-month period, 43 of those women were newly identified and referred to us, which is a big jump from the previous year.”
The women TARA supports are among the most vulnerable. Many don’t speak English, and some are so disoriented by traffickers that they don’t even know where they are. “Human traffickers have many different and creative ways to keep women under control,” Andrew explained. “We had an example of a young woman referred to us who thought she was in Toronto—she had no idea she was in Glasgow.”
The Scottish government has signaled that it “strongly supports” a ban on the purchase of sexual services but has “significant concerns” about Regan's bill. Ministers say they want “significant changes” to the proposed law, which means it is unlikely to pass before parliament dissolves ahead of next year’s elections.
Both sides in this debate share the same goal: improving the lives of women, whether by protecting them from exploitation or by safeguarding their livelihoods and safety. But their visions of what that improvement should look like are sharply divided. As Scotland grapples with the complexities of sex work, the voices of those most affected—like Victoria and Amelia—underscore just how high the stakes are, both for individual lives and for society as a whole.
With the future of Scotland’s sex industry uncertain, the only certainty is that the debate will continue, shaped by the stories and struggles of those at its center.
