Harlots

Dramas about sex work can go wrong in dozens of ways, but this smart, nuanced, feminist series is perhaps the best portrait of prostitution ever to hit the small screen. When we meet the Wells women and dive into their squalid, captivating world, Lucy has just gotten her hands on a copy of Harris' List, the Yelp of the day for sex workers. Except for the quick shots of customers engaged in "intimate congress" (as a disapproving judge calls the work in court), the setting could just as easily be a hair salon, a teacher's lounge, or anywhere that women have traditionally gathered to talk shop. 

Before long, the focus has widened as we see the pretty house Charlotte's lord has bought her (as well as the emotional games she has to play to hold onto it, and him) and the upscale brothel run by Madame Quigley, who insists her "girls" know how to sing, talk with wit, and play an instrument as well as satisfy customers physically. But no matter where Harlots takes us, there are working women: lounging, servicing customers, gossiping, hatching schemes. Women are the center of the action, plying their trade in a time when it was one of the only ones available to them. These characters sometimes enjoy sex work, sometimes find it funny, and sometimes positively despise it, a nuanced perspective on the work that's extraordinarily rare. Even if you don't approve of their profession, you will be fascinated by the way these women live, and you'll root for their success. As Margaret sums up her aims in the first episode, "This city is made of our flesh -- every beam, every brick. We'll have our piece of it."