The Leopard Ladies

Being a neophyte at this Cannes thing, of course my attention was directed at the mother-daughter tandem team of whores who prowled the Gutter Bar and the festival at all hours of the day and night, wearing an ensemble of leopard print lingerie which they did not change out of for 10 days in a row.
So many questions to ask about these two dames:
1. Did they have several similar outfits or did they indeed use the same sweaty clothes for the duration?
2. What exactly is the role of the mother? For those of you who have never seen these two, they are aesthetically challenged, to say the least. The daughter must be in her late forties and as whores go, I assume she could potentially pass muster if you are either very drunk or very desperate or both. Yet the mother looks like a hardened munchkin and there is just no way to imagine any kind of menage of any sort with her in the picture. Unless, of course, you are the king of kink and you get off by just thinking of the possibility of a mother watching her own daughter prostitute herself for your pleasure. This is France, the place that gave the world, among other things, the Marquis de Sade, so it is not farfetched.
Some Venezuelan guys we met were so flummoxed by the pair that they thought the city of Cannes paid them to stroll around in their ratty garments. But why would the city of Cannes, a retirement community of wealthy people where a beer costs 17 bucks, want to promote sideshow freak whores for the benefit of tourism is beyond me.
There were many other working ladies parked in cars or at the Gutter Bar, who looked of a slightly different caliber, but the Leopard ladies rule. The night of the award ceremony the daughter was taking video of everybody coming down the red carpet. Then they hoofed their way towards the Martinez with the rest of us, the mother slapping her cheap platform slippers on the sidewalk with considerable effort.
Our friend Bob told us he had heard that the third generation is making her debut soon.
Can't wait.