Hurry up and wait: A day in the life of a Victorian prostitute

The cult likes nothing more than an occasion on which to dress up, which is why I jumped at the chance of a day as an extra on the London set of Brit costume movie Dorian Gray, starring Ben Barnes and Colin Firth. Even though I had to get up at 6am, the role of Gin Palace Customer 2 was far too exciting to turn down. So here is the diary of the day the cult went on location with Dorian Gray and made it in the talkies…

0630: I feel nauseous. Waking up this early when you are not catching a plane somewhere is a bit annoying, though I do quite like my off-duty actress apparel of messy hair, ballet pumps and a man’s cardigan. I already feel very glamorous.

0700: I arrive at a shabby disused car park off Edgware Road filled with trailers and people. With military precision it is being referred to as Unit Base. Immediately someone very nice with a clipboard spots me, ticks my name off a list and tells me to help myself to the breakfast buffet before they take me to costume.

One minute I am hanging out by the cereal thinking, “gosh it is far too early to eat”, next minute I hear myself ordering a full English breakfast. Not because I am hungry, but because the person in front of me did and it is there and it is free. Please god let me fit into the costume that was designed for me last week at Angels…

I spot Ben Barnes (playing Dorian Gray) being shuffled between two massive trailers. He has very nice shiny hair.

0830: Have been stitched into my massive costume and squeezed into my corset. Already feeling very suggestive as I have very little actual material covering my boobs from the outside world and pretty high heels. I am also wearing rather massive bloomers. Someone has told me that I am a Victorian Bridget Jones. Ha bloody Ha.

0845: There appears to have been some mistake. Although they asked me specificaly to not wear any make up, they have only put a tiny amount on my face. My cheeks are mottled with rouge. “Oh I love lots of blemishes” the make up artist gleefully tells me as she chucks some on. “I don’t”, I whisper quietly so she can’t really hear me. I don’t look very pretty. I look hungover with the ruddy tint of an alcoholic. At least the hair has to look pretty…I am envisaging ringlets.

0900: I have a very jolly Scottish man playing with my hair, telling me a dirty joke and eating a bacon sandwich all at once. While I am laughing uproariously I don’t notice he has just put my fringe in curlers exposing my unplucked eyebrows for the first time since 2003. Next thing I know, I have my hair piled on my head and teeny tiny feather hat on top. Everyone else has flowing ringlets framing their prettily made up faces. I look like a cross between Queen Victoria and Amy Winehouse. With a curled fringe.

0920: Someone has just painted a bruise on my collar. Obviously my character gets a bit riled up when she is on the gin.

0921: They have now painted fake bright pink nipples on me, poking out of my corset. I can’t even talk I am so shocked.

0925: When we are lined up for the costume designer to check us over, I am quietly praying to myself that she will notice Nipplegate and clean them off. Nothing.

0945: I don’t want to admit to anyone that I am so shallow that I don’t want to do it unless I look pretty. Still waiting to go on set. Still have bright pink nipple beacons. Trying to get over it, I make small talk with another extra. He spends the whole time staring at my fake nipples.

1000: On set. We have been held in a back room of the rather spectacular Crocker’s Folly, an old pub in Maida Vale that has been transformed into a gin palace. I hear two other extras talking about “back story” which gets me thinking about mine. Although in name I am merely Gin Palace Customer 2, in my head I have a rather complicated back story involving being lured into the dark alleys of gin-soaked London, forced to turn tricks for gin, ravaged by my need for the juniper stuff. Getting into character I repeat to myself….what is my motivation? Gin. What is my obstacle? Money. How do I overcome this? Well…we all know what a girl will do to get some gin. I am Nettie, gin addict. This is why, regardless of what the director tells me to do, I will be leering suggestively at Ben Barnes.

1045: On set. Doing the crossword. Talking to a couple of other extras, two gentlemen. One is a friend of the director, the other is a member of the crew’s dad. I am secretly relieved that they too are amateurs (sort of). Another person with a clipboard takes two of our group, leading them off to the room with the cameras. Another one gets taken away while I am not looking. Leaving me, two prostitutes and the two gentleman. My desire to be centre stage has overtaken my vanity. Why haven’t they taken me?

1115: Seriously, why haven’t they taken me?

1130: Oh I see, the others have been chosen for this set up and we will be in the reverse shot. Of course. Silly me. When’s lunch?

1230 The crowd AD tells us to get lunch because we will have a busy afternoon. Hurrah! If lunch is anything like breakfast, I am terribly excited.

1300: The scriptwriter sits at our table over lunch on the bus. We get talking and it comes up that I am “sort of a writer”. He asks me what sort of writing I want to do, I open my mouth to answer but he interrupts with “the kind of writing that pays”. I am just trying to figure out whether that is the best or worst advice ever when one of the professional extras behind me, appropos nothing, tells us that she is a pirate expert. Cool.

1315: Ate too much. Corset hurts. So do my feet.

1316: Is that pudding?

1430: Just at the moment I was about to throw the shawl in and go home, I have been chosen! I am paired up with a man who calls himself both Tubbs and Roy (he is a professional extra). We are in the back of shot and just as I am commiserating with my new friend that indeed it is rubbish not being in the front, a man with a walkie talkie tells me not to turn to the camera because they want to use me in the front of the next shot. Sorry Tubbs, I am going to the top! I get a proper look around whilst lurking about with my back to the camera. It is so convincing as a gin palace I already feel a bit gin-soaked and unsteady on my feet (this might be the combination of corset and high heels). I am Nettie. Gin Whore.

1530: Cut! Whilst on a break I have the conversational equivalent of a nap with another extra. There is tea, cake and sandwiches on the go. I see Tubbs is having an actual nap in the corner.

1630: My two prostitute friends, the two gentlemen and I are taken back into the main room where the action happens. We are carefully positioned. I have to drape myself over Dougie Henshall as he feels up one of the prostitutes sitting on the table, whilst I look suggestive to the other gentleman/punter over his shoulder. Wouldn’t be too stressful if the punter behind me wasn’t the gentleman I spoke to earlier whose son is on set. How much is too much in a situation like this? It is my moment, I want to shine. But I don’t want to be innappropriate in front of someone’s dad. Crumbs. To make matters worse, someone tells me that even though my face may not be in shot, my boobs and fake nipple/beacon definitely will be.

1645: Colin Firth, Ben Barnes and Ben Chaplin are in front of me. God it is hot in here. I can see why movie stars always bemoan that movie-making isn’t that glamorous. They are standing about like the rest of us. Though unlike the rest of us, they have someone to fan them. Ben Barnes hair really is extraordinarily shiny.

I feel all internally stressed. I am terrified that I am going to ruin the whole film (which admittedly would be rather impressive). The actual actors seem so relaxed and witty banter flies back and forth. Actors are just like normal people…only they are funnier, better-looking and more charming.

1700: Every time I leer forward to pout at a 70 year old, I can feel the camera zooming into my fake nipple. It is awkward but you know, the show must go on.

1715: The director comes over to give the prostitute direction in the appropriate response to getting felt up by Dougie Henshall. NB she is not a real prostitute, she is a very nice woman called Sophie. I ask the director how I am doing (expecting some effusive praise) and he looks at me blankly and says “what?” I mumble “nothing”.

1716: It is incredibly hard to be sexy when you look like Queen Victoria. Fact.

1720: Action. We are all talking in manner of gin palace regulars, full of slurred “cor blimeys” and winks. My new friend the producer’s dad says to us all…”well this is a bit embarassing, isn’t it?” It is such the perfect way to describe the situation we all fall about laughing on camera (even Dougie Henshall). Oh well, we can be happy gin addicts. I am Nettie, cheery gin whore.

1745: Final take. This is a big shot of the bar, capturing the bawdy scenes of a Victorian Gin Palace which will be used to maximum effect when the audience is lured in for the first time. I finally get to leer in the direction of Colin Firth and Ben Barnes. We give it one final push, saying things like “he looks like a right go-er”, “ooh ‘ello ‘andsome” and something about double-stuffing that I can’t repeat. There is a hurdy gurdy player and some of the vagabonds are doing a cheery jig. Everyone is laughing. In the true spirit of Nettie, I forget that I am tired and sore and not looking very pretty and find myself giddy with the fun of the party…because I am a gin whore and that is what gin whores do.

1820: It’s a wrap! I don’t want to leave. 

1825: Actually I do. My feet hurt and I think I have done permanant bladder damage with the corset.

1900: Slowly everyone begins to disperse. I say goodbye to the people I recognise in their normal clothes. My Scottish hairdressing friend is shamed (by me) into sorting my stupid curly fringe out because my two new prostitute friends and I are going to the pub. The only trace of Nettie left behind is deep beneath my t shirt…my two bright pink painted nipples remain. Now that I am the only person who knows they are there, I have grown rather fond of them.