The sex club was everything I thought it would be: gritty, grimy and borderline gross, but I didn’t let it get to me. When I arrived, no one was having sex, but the way my fashion crew was acting, you would have thought we had been dumped smack dab in the middle of Sodom and Gomorrah. I guess the unspoken mysteries of sex can do that to a person.
The place was touted as a polite swingers club, but with the plastic wrapped mattresses, secluded rooms and one-way glass windows, it screamed unadulterated fornication. I know sometimes fashion can be weird, even sexual at times, but what we were about to do didn’t have anything to do with coitus, copulation or even coupling, for that matter.
We were there to shoot a holiday jewelry campaign with up-and-coming designer Jill Zaleski. Unfortunately, the studio we had booked a few months prior to the collaboration suddenly closed, forcing us to make a last minute, harried location change. I was actually out of town (on another modeling job) when I got news of the cancellation. I had planned on flying back to Miami that night and meeting Jill the next morning, but first she had to make her way from Tennessee.
With her in route and me out of town, I reached out to the photographer shooting the campaign and asked him to save the project. We needed a large space to accommodate a big team, including a camera crew. So, he found one and that’s how we ended up at the sex club. He had a contact who let us set up shop on the club’s expansive dance floor. It wasn’t how I had envisioned it, but it worked and the show went on.