On to the month of June, 2013 of our pinup girl calendar project and a theme idea we dreamt up for it…
We were in Las Vegas recently for the annual SEMA show –– a universally complete circus of just about anything you could (and couldn’t) possibly imagine made, manufactured and sold for the auto industry. Really. If you’ve never been, it’s hard to describe. And we figured, since we were there, we might as well make the most of it and get a shoot for the calendar under our belts. We were short a few images and what better place to make something out of nothing, right?
Now, let’s get something straight: when we think of Vegas, Baby, we don’t think of some goofy-ass rockabilly weekender on The Strip. No, we think of the Vegas of the Seventies, when the town was coming off the Elvisian Viva Las Vegas years of the Sixties, but was still far from the reinvented Nineties. When Vegas was still a place you could get into some real trouble and just disappear without anyone knowing much about it. The Seventies…when exotic pets, Mexican brown, outlaw truckers, rhinestones and Spirit Of ’76 denim vests made up the night life of Fremont Street and The Strip wasn’t really quite The Strip yet. These were the years of the Cannonball Run, the Balloon Chasers and other clandestine cross-country roadtrips that used Vegas as a real chill-out hideout while the radiators and burning eyeballs cooled off. That’s the Vegas we love.
So you’ll understand how stoked we were to find Todd DeVos’ fully original and beautiful ’77 Trans Am. Original decals, T-tops and everything. We then found Alexanne and photographer Brian Brown. And then Brian found Cristian Sosa’s custom shop hidden away behind the infamous Cheetah Club. And then we found ourselves being questioned by four Cheetah Club thugs with mysterious bulges in the back of their waistbands under silk Tommy Bahama shirts in their parking lot when the cab dropped us off and then ams-skrayed before we could figure out where we were.
We got what we were looking for: a nod to Burt Reynolds and the glory days of cross-country runs in smogged-up, de-tuned big-cube cars with CB radio whipstinger antennas tied down to the rear spoiler, salt shakers full of adrenochrome and a black panther or orangutan in the passenger seat.
It all worked out in the end and after the shoot, the boys at the Cheetah even treated us to a few complimentary beers and told us if we ever needed any girls for more, uh, “shoots,” they’d be happy to help out. Good of them.
We’ll be back, for sure. There’s a whole new shoot we’re scheming on…