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Exotic what?
June 18, 2006
This weekend I spent part of the day Friday at the Exotic Erotic Expo with the leading lady for my film (I am going to remain secretive about that for now), and then returned to Pier 94 last night to attend the ball portion of the festivities with my fellow $pread executive editor. I’m damn glad I went with her because we could share in our jadedness. It’s events like this that remind me how much I live (happily) in a little bubble, or even more accurately, a bubble within a bubble. The sex industry is a strange strange alternate universe, one that feels oddly like home. Well, sometimes.
Saturday morning, before the sex blogger’s tea and the ball, I did a photo shoot with Paul Sarkis. Before we started shooting, I asked him about how he ended up in the wild world of sex, and he said the thing I’ve heard echoed by many other people (or at least the ones I like and connect with) – it was a combination of intellectual and prurient interest, cemented by that feeling of homecoming. There are, to be sure, a lot of crazy and whacked out people in this industry – arguably more so than in other industries, perhaps because the sex industry is only recently becoming more professionalized, and so it attracts people who cannot function in any other part of the working world. However, the folks who are awesome are truly a step above your average awesome person.
But anyway – the Exotic Erotic Ball. Speaking of awesome – it really wasn’t. Being immersed in my little bubble of people who are highly critical of the sex industry while also loving and embracing parts of it in a rabidly idealistic way, I forgot that there are lots of people who aren’t totally jaded by it and are in awe of porn stars and whatnot. We call these people “civilians” in a slightly derisive tone – (the royal) we are not very nice. There wasn’t dress code to the evening, so people like me were dressed to the nines, but there were also many, many dudes wandering around in tank tops and shorts. Not to mention the high numbers of people in Halloween costumes – and not in a fetishy way, either. Peculiar and sort of amusing.
What was not sort of amusing, but probably something I’m going to have to get used to (diva-on-the-rise alert), was the way that said civilians acted around me and mine – there was lots of “stealthy” photo taking. Dude – I can see you, especially when you are dressed like a viking and the flash on your camera goes off when you are pointing it at me, and it is only polite to ask “Can I take a picture of you?” This is a little thing called objectification – and I felt it cut me like a creepy knife last night. There’s a self-kicking part of me that says – duh, of course involvement in this sex stuff begets creepiness and objectification. But but but, I say (to myself), I know what’s possible, and it can be beautiful and interesting - with depth and meaning and raunch without creepiness, and with the right kinds of objectification.
Because, like I said, I exist in this New York sexerati bubble, in which objectification exists with a tinge of heartfelt irony, in which the admiration of boobs doesn’t exclude the possibility of having a conversation with someone. I guess that’s the real kicker – of course last night I was putting my boobs on display in my lovely corset and I’m cool with being gawked at, revel in it even, but the boobs don’t make me less of a person, unapproachable, a photograph from a distance. Or not in my head – wait, that is the problem, the brains/boobs connection is not so easily made for everyone. Am I asking too much? Probably. Do I even know what I’m asking? Probably not.
Posted by Dacia at June 18, 2006 10:36 PM
Comments
Well, now I certainly don’t feel bad about not going although I had thought about it.
Certainly missing you in a corset though was something I am sorry for and considering how lovely you look I am not at all surprised by your objectification (by ill dressed vikings).
Maybe you were about to be in a credit card commercial and didn’t know it?
Ah, but there’s the rub, I am a civilian so I must apologize on the part of my brethren. Yes, the boobs/brain connection is hard for many to make - much of the time it is difficult to get past the spectacle of the boobs themselves hence we wind up making boobs of ourselves.
Posted by: mister_pj at June 19, 2006 12:45 AM
Thaks for the writeup. I see we didn’t miss anything, even though both me and Lex attempted to get in contact with them. Like you said, the EEB folks don’t quite seem to get the internet thing.
Posted by: Viviane at June 19, 2006 08:06 AM
Would you happen to know who the guy in costume holding the brain was? ;-)
I agree, it was not what it was cracked up to be but it was an excellent event, hopefully better planned for next time.( if they muddle up enough for a next time)
Just a passerby with hope in her eye. Be Blessed!
Posted by: Ravyn at June 20, 2006 06:42 AM
Civilian here! Well, I hope to get more involved into the “scene” as I immerse myself more into my own erotic art endeavors, but I just read an article about the EEB in the latest NYP and it pretty much said the whole shebang was somewhat wan. Maybe next time?
Posted by: Irezumi Kiss at June 22, 2006 03:37 AM
