I have a friend that prides himself on being uncouth. He likes to greet me pretty much every time with “How you going gorgeous, gettin’ a bit?”
A bit sick of saying ‘no’, or ‘none of your business you creep’ is my automated response.
But last week I went to an event, where I’ve never been so sure that if I was to storm the stage Kanye style, swipe the microphone and yell “Are you lot gettin’ a bit?” I’d have received an overwhelming chant of “Yes!!! We’re all getting a bit.”
Where on earth was I? Well I was propped up at the Eros Shine Awards, aka the Adult Industry Awards. And let me tell you, it was far more interesting than the Newsagents Awards, which in a previous life, I was obliged to attend.
So these people, from all pockets of the industry, from online adult toy distributors, to the head of the brothel association, to the Club X father and son owners, strippers, porn stars and everything in between, were getting a bit for sure. No wonder they all looked so happy!
I was initially a little self conscious about walking in, having a name like Amber these days, sorry mum, almost screams “yes I’ve made a couple of movies my Dad doesn’t know about.” And maybe that’s why a large man who had a major Matt Preston thing going on seemed determined to sit next to me. He spoke like he’d graduated some time ago from Eton University but I suspected his education might be in something a bit saucier than political science. Let alone be sharing a flat with Prince William.
My radar was clearly on, as he informed me when I asked how he fitted in to ‘all this‘, by pointing to the awards booklet where his name was displayed. He was in charge of the Brothel Association of Australia. He was charming like Matt Preston and I was a wide-eyed fish out of water like Nemo.
The rather amusing thing about attending an awards show such as this, is that even when you think you’re chatting to a very average looking couple, who were apparently trying to work out who I was, I dared not ask who they thought I might be, mentioned the large collection of erotic art they’d collected from around the world. Including a large vagina box by some well known artist you won’t find at Sotheby’s, which had layers and layers of something best not mentioned here.
“I’m not a boob man” he confessed, “I’m more into the engine room.” Which I’m fairly sure wasn’t referencing any sort of vessel that might be seen floating out at sea.
Say what you like, but I admit it was certainly the most entertaining awards show I’ve been to. And I’ve been to a few. I’ve never however, been to one where two of the presenters, both international porn stars, flirted so much, like you might see at say The Logies or the Oscars, only here, James Deen, apparently huge, apologies, famous…in the American porn industry, was doing a blatant Robyn Thicke move on the other presenter which I feared was close to ending in all sorts of adult tears. Although she seemed absolutely delighted. So delighted in fact that she struggled to finish reading out the nominees.
There were pole dancers, wonderful sparkly burlesque performers emerging from giant strawberries, male revue dancers going from the Full Monty, Chips style get-up, to Beyonce ‘All The Single Ladies’ in high viz jackets and very little else.
I even managed to have some input into a future; all female cast feature film, which I’m told, will be a tribute to the 70’s classic Puberty Blues. I reminded the young female director that she simply must use the line from the movie “…and don’t take any bites on the way back.”
So now, with no disrespect, I am kind of praying she forgets to thank me in the credits for that. Very happy to give that bit for free.