My upcoming short film, like pretty much any film, requires preparation. Locations must be scouted. Actors must be auditioned. Props must be acquired. Wardrobe must be selected.
There are a couple of brief shots where some of my actors will be bare-assed. These bare-ass shots will be outside, on the street, in an urban setting.
Since I am going to have some bare-assed actors around, I need to worry about their junk showing. To be more precise, I need to worry about their junk *not* showing. They can’t wear thong underwear, because I don’t want any straps showing from behind.
I was consulting with a couple people, and one of them mentioned spirit gum as a way of adhering fabric to the nether regions. I look up spirit gum on the Wikipedia and see a link to merkins.
Ah ha! So that’s what they’re called. I need merkins.
There’s a great, huge costume store on Milwaukee Avenue I’ve been to called Fantasy Costumes. They’re a treasure chest for all kinds of costumes, for Halloween, or any day besides Halloween.
On their website I pop “merkin” into the search criteria and hit the “Go…” button. Hmm. When I clicked it, it said the “Adult Costume” portion of the store was down. (however, if you type “merkin” today it provides this amusing result):
Anyways, I call up the store and ask if they have merkins. The woman who answered my call briefly puts me on hold — I presume to get the salesperson who works the “Adult” costume portion of the store, who then picks up.
The salesperson indicates they have a black one and a brown one.
“I really need four,” I reply.
“We may have a few more around,” she says.
“Great! I’ll be right over!”
So, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon I drive up Cicero Avenue. I reach the store, park on Milwaukee and head inside.
“I need some merkins,” I say.
The woman behind the counter gives me the faintest of looks, then reaches into a glass display case. She drops two plastic baggies onto the counter. They each contain what appears to be a mound of pubic hair (one is black, one is brown).
“Whoa, whoa, I don’t need these,” I said.
“These are merkins,” she says.
“Then I don’t need merkins,” I say.
I explain my needs to her, trying my best to sound civilized and not at all creepy.
She suggests I purchase some flesh-covered material from a fabric store and fashion my own modesty garments. She sells me some “men’s grooming tape” (normally used for affixing hairpieces and such), and even draws a nice diagram to help me with the shape of the garment and strategic placement of tape.
So, it’s one more step towards getting my film ready, and one more slice of innocence lost.
