Local Sex Shops Spice up Inland Empire
By Emily Field
Staff Writer

Last Sunday at 1:15 pm, when most people were stumbling back from brunch, I was hyperventilating in the parking lot of Mustang. For those of you not in the know, Mustang is an adult bookstore on Central Ave. in Upland. It wasn’t exactly that I had never been in a sex shop before: I had never been in one alone before. This seemed like an important distinction at the time. I was fully prepared to run out screaming at the first sign of a potential flasher.

Also, who (besides me) goes porn-shopping on a Sunday afternoon in the Inland Empire? Apparently, a fair number of people do; one can only imagine how many people stop off for their weekly porn rental on the way back from morning services. One car in the parking lot even had a “Child of God” bumper sticker. It only added to the surrealism of the moment.

Once inside, though, I quickly realized that although I was the only female in sight, I had little to fear from the other customers. After showing my ID to the clerk at the front, I started wandering around the rest of the store. I was careful though, not to look directly at any of my fellow shoppers. The number-one rule of sex shop etiquette: avoid eye contact at any cost. Do not directly acknowledge the presence of another human being. Even—no, especially—if you know them.

For whoever hasn’t been in a sex shop, here’s a quick summary of what you can expect from its inventory. There are vibrators of every shape, size, and color, ranging from life-like penises to small barnyard animals to dildoes in an equally varied assortment. There were some roughly the size of my forearm, and twice as girthy. Porn, porn, and more porn. And, for the price of a pair of Diesel jeans, you could buy a blow-up “Julian” doll. Julian is “a life size mannequin head with flowing hair and gorgeous brown eyes, soft kissable lips, and an exquisite, penetrating, rotating, and vibrating tongue.” I only wish I were making this up.

By far, though, the weirdest thing I saw was a video from the San Francisco Fetish Factory called Food Fuck—Hungry Americans Get Fed! Thanks to those asinine American Pie movies, men penetrating watermelons now share shelf-space with the Barely Legal series. Thank you, Jason Biggs. There are only so many varieties of fuzzy handcuffs you can choose among however, before boredom sets in. Once the novelty of all that porn had worn off, I went looking for more material.

In the adjoining wing of the store, I found Marie, and her daughter, Janie. Both women work at Mustang. Marie is a manager who has worked there for almost 22 years. Her daughter, who is in her thirties, has worked there off and on since she graduated high school.

Once I introduced myself as a writer for a campus newspaper, both women were more than happy to talk. According to Marie, she was only the second woman to work at the store. She was first hired 21 years ago, when she was fired from her job as a receptionist in L.A., and one of her four children was in the hospital. At this point, her daughter interjected, “That was when my dad fell off a 25 foot ladder and started having seizures… I was in junior high at the time.

”Twenty years ago, fewer women were the main providers for their families; I’m sure even fewer worked night shifts at sex stores. But Marie and Janie take their job in stride, both agreeing that “it’s only a job like any other job.” Janie added, “The first couple of years when I worked here after high school, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Where do you work? In a bookstore? Which one? Nope, can’t tell you!
”

Neither woman said that they had ever had trouble with any of their customers. I pressed Marie for any sordid stories of sketchy customers, but all she said of her early days was “At first it was really hard. They’d call up and ask if they could have a girl sent over! ‘What, you mean this isn’t a whorehouse!’

”To the contrary, Janie said that her mother is friends with most of her regulars; some of them even call her mom, too!” Clearly, this is not a typical porn clerk; then again, how many fifty-something grandmothers work at sex stores?

I talked to Janie about the typical clientele in the store. Most of the time, she said, the customers are men, shopping alone. Women tend to come with their partners, and look very uncomfortable. “They look to see if there are any other women around, Janie said. “They’re scared to come in alone, like you probably were.”

Janie gave me a tour of the store, including the upstairs video booths. I didn’t see another woman until I had almost left the store.

At the Toy Box, also in Upland, this was not the case. Almost immediately upon entering the store, I spotted several couples over in the lingerie section, plus one woman apparently shopping alone. But I soon discovered that Marie and Janie had a point; after you’ve seen one strap-on dildo, you’ve seen them all.

I didn’t spend as much time browsing the second time around. The only clerk in sight was a bored peroxide blonde standing behind a shoulder high glass partition. Like Mustang, however, the Toy Box has a mailbox section, where people can advertise for threesomes, swinger parties, and all sorts of kinky fun. I personally have never seen so many Polaroids of penises in one place. Sometimes I think I will never understand the male gender.

The only creepy part of the entire afternoon was after I had left the Toy Box. Fumbling with the ignition of my borrowed car, a man I had seen in the store knocked on my window. I did a very stupid thing, and rolled down my window.

His name was Jim, he looked about 45, and he dressed like my dad. Weird enough yet? That was even before he asked, “So, do you come here often? Because those prices in there seemed a little expensive to me, I don’t know about you.”

I managed to get out of there before he started discussing the relative benefits of leather versus synthetic whips. The episode did make my Top Ten list of “Creepiest Things Ever Said” with a bullet. Also, I need to carry mace more often. In retrospect, though, I’d have to say that my solo adventures in sex toy land went better than I had imagined. All things considered, there’s nothing scary about sex shops; you just might want to bring a friend to keep away the crazies.