By Sherri Eldin
So there I was, in my bra and panties, sprawled across the laps of three men, two of whom I'd never met before that day. I looked up at a photographer perched upon a balcony directly above us, ready to have this image captured in the digital abyss for all eternity. I quickly became aware of a silhouette located about two feet to the photographer's left. It was one of my new friends' wife, two children no older than ten cowering under either arm. For a quick instant my morality kicked in; I remembered what it was like to watch my own father interacting with young women when I was a little girl myself. Hell, if I saw that NOW I'd scratch their eyes out. So I did what I thought most appropriate at that moment: I looked at the wife, mouthed "sorry", and posed for a series of shots to hide from my own father.
Such is life on the set of a music video, my friends. Back in August I shot the video for "Painted Lady", the latest single from Brooklyn's own ZO2. I first became aware of their existence upon seeing a billboard in the summer of '08 promoting their IFC series, "Z Rock". I was instantly hooked on their show and music. In November of the same year I attended a live show in New Jersey just minutes away from where I grew up, and got to schmooze with the boys after (that night inspired one of my own songs, to be discussed further in a future piece). Who would have thought that mere months later, the lead singer's guitar-callused hand would be positioned just so on my bare tummy, making for the best shot Mr. Photographer would get all day. (That may or may not be true, but in my little delusional world it is, so just humor me here.)
My dream since I was a preteen just sprouting half a boob was to be in music videos. Granted, it was supposed to be MY video, but when my full-grown pair landed me a spot dancing for twelve hours in front of a bassist who has a hard time keeping his shirt on, I was on that ship. I didn't have my shirt on either, which, when things got slow between takes, allowed me to play rousing games of "Who Has Better Abs". The only two contenders, it turns out, were me and Bass Boy, for at some point during the day I realized that out of 30+ girls, I was the only one in a bra. Everyone else has taken the corset route.
Now I know plenty of girls and women who would have crouched in a corner out of embarrassment had this happened to them. I, on the other hand, took on the "let the games begin" attitude. And it came in handy, because when I saw the final cut of the video, there I was in clear view. Or so I thought. When the video was released online to the public, many of my friends couldn't spot me. Which is where the title of this piece comes in; that's the exact phrase I said over and over to friends so they knew where I was. It was my one distinguishing feature among the girls, and I was proud, dammit!
I wonder if my pediatrician had an inkling while he was cutting my umbilical cord that that little tummy would be my claim to fame.
(BONUS: One of my friends, who was on the shoot with me that day, was kind enough to break down the video to where you can see me. Thanks, Anthony!
10 seconds
12-14 seconds
57-59 seconds
2:26 - 2:29
2:40
2:47
2:55-2:56
3:02
3:06
3:12-3:14)
And, finally, here's the video:
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