The next moments proved to be intensely erotic, oddly enough, as Koko flittted daintily around the table, decorating me with scarves, bright pink flowers, and the fans that would serve as trays for the sushi, sashimi, and shumai. Never before had I felt like a piece of art. Rather, never before had I been so bent on winning an internal debate: Naked Body Sushi Modeling Equals Art, Not Exploitation. Luckily, Progressive Adventurous Melanie almost always trumps Conscientious Melanie. Fully outfitted with fish and decor, I felt poised, happy to be part of the Nyotaimori process.(Thanks Mr Big)
That is, until Koko led our customers in. Staring at the ceiling, unable to move, I realized that I couldn’t see their faces. Were the guests short, bearded, and rotund or tall, chiseled, and muscular? Were they dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, or jeans and vintage tees? Were they young Wall Street douchebags, or elderly cigar-smoking gentleman? Deprived of my Constitutional right to make snap judgments based on physical appearances, I felt isolated and afraid.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Writer Melanie Berliet finds out how it feels like to be a naked body sushi model in what could be her most challenging and nerve-wracking assignment to date. From Vanity Fair:
Posted by I.Z. Reloaded at 11:46 AM
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