I have not. But my wife was, once, when she was with me, no less! We were in a casino in a Santo Domingo hotel and I was playing blackjack. She was with me but not playing, and apparently this particular casino was a place for prostitutes to find clients. It was a rude but brief misunderstanding.
All the time. That’s the price of working as a consultant. Not exactly a mistake either. But I assume you mean the kind that sells their body for sex, so no, there aren’t enough people weird enough to mistake me for a prostitute.
Yep. When I was in college, one of our gang lived in a very nice apartment right next to a red-light area. We used to hang out there sometimes. Whenever I was going over to his place after dark - or especially heading home late at night - there was an even chance that some car would slow down and a guy would stick his head out the window and ask me whether I was working.
I was always wearing something like jeans and Docs and a duffle coat, which I wouldn’t have considered standard prostitute gear, but there you go. I wasn’t the only one it happened to; it was all our gang, including (less often) the guys.
What other kind is there?
So what was Mrs. Bricker wearing that resulted in this… miscommunication?
I haven’t, but it did happen to my wife, decades ago.
Back then, she was working for an agency that sponsored economic development in Ukraine (she speaks the language fluently). She was in Ukraine, at a high-level development function held at a fancy hotel in Kiev featuring various ambassadors and Ukrainian ministers, representing this agency, when suddenly - two big beefy security guards grab her by the arms and start hauling her out of the room the meeting was in.
Turns out the hotel management overheard her speaking Ukrainian and assumed she was a prostitute crashing the event, presumably on the assumption that a good looking young woman attending such an event was either a Westerner or a local prostitute, and a Westerner was unlikely to speak Ukrainian. (She also looks quite Ukrainian, as her parents were both of that ancestry).
The hotel strongly discouraged local prostitutes. Hence the ‘bum’s rush’ treatment.
There was a bit of a scene before all was sorted out, leaving her quite shaken. Management’s apologies were allegedly profuse, but still, a frightening and humiliating experience.
One of the things I have learnt working with various Women’s organizations and shelters over the years is that many call girls don’t dress like a hooker when going to high end hotels, they tend to try and blend in waiting for their john.
ETA: Malthus, were you married to her at the time?
The consulting kind who takes money to do whatever the client wants whether it’s a good idea or not, makes recommendations that the client has already made so it sounds more credible, and takes the blame when everything goes wrong. Pretty good money to sell your soul that way. 
I don’t know for sure that ‘mistaken’ is the right term…
I was in a roadside cafe in Jarama, Spain, with my female travelling companion. I was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting sweatshirt – we had been driving all morning and had three more hours to go! We were eating egg and chips. Very glamorous, oh yes.
My friend got up and went to the bathroom. The waiter came over to me, and said, in bad English, ‘the man over there [he pointed to a forty-something gent, who was studiously looking the other way] wants to know, how much?’
I looked at him dumbly. ‘What?’
‘How much, for, you know, to go with him?’
I shook my head vigorously and threw the money for our food on the table and bolted out of there. When my friend got out the bathroom I hustled us back to the car ASAP.
So I’m not sure if the guy (or the waiter, for that matter) thought I was a prostitute or if he was just trying to buy me, for whatever reason, but I remain confused and creeped out to this day.
I have not. I was never that cute.
I did have a friend who was mistaken for a rent boy when we were standing outside a club talking. It took him (and I) a few seconds to realize exactly what he was being asked.
Yeah, when a contract was completed I felt so dirty I needed to take a shower… in Money! 
I live fairly close to one of the main red light district type areas in my city, so yeah, a few times.
It’s not unheard of there for drunk guys to just assume every solo female (or group of females) walking down the road late are hookers. Had one kinda scary one where a whole bunch of guy in a car with no headlights on, swerving all over the road, decided I was a hooker and followed me trying to get a price for a few hundred metres. It was about 3am, there was no one else around and I’d just been dropped off round the corner after an event.
Most of the local prostitutes don’t dress up that fancy; jeans or a skirt and a warm coat is pretty normal, their clothes don’t really stand out from the general wear. It’s pose and location that advertise.
A friend of mine has a rather innocent wife, her ideas about prostitution come from the movie Pretty Woman. Traveling through a small local economically down-trodden city one evening she thought she had spotted hookers out on the street corner looking for business. They were actually High School girls on the way to the prom.
That’s an understandable mistake. It seems like 75% of teenage girls have an unspoken contest to see how skimpy and slutty they can dress.
Yes.
I’m male, & was out for a walk on a hot day, in a t-shirt, sneakers/no socks, and cut off shorts.
He was quite persistent, & I had to threaten to call a cop.
Is this a stealth brag about how far out of your league you married up? 
I think I was once. I had a quickie with a guy, and afterward he slipped me a 20.
This partially makes up for the time another guy skillfully removed money from my wallet.
No. But I was once mistaken for a virgin.
Once when I was in my 20’s, and was substantially better-looking than I am now, I was walking home to my apartment from a nearby bar at about 1:30 am when some guy pulled up in a Caddie and asked if I wanted a ride. I made a ‘pfft’ sound and kept walking.
Only when I’m wearing my fishnet stockings and fuck-me heels.