Yes to the Gem
Somehow, the workday had managed to continue. By the time the calls ceased, the storms returned and the bar had mostly emptied. I finally ordered a beer and then stared out through the neon into the pouring rain as a coffee shop-style cover of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” rang out. I really needed a break, but the horn section of that iconic melody had been replaced by the throaty wails of someone who’d definitely been wearing a wide-brimmed hat while recording it. I prepared to surrender and head home, but then I couldn’t remember which bottle of Miller High Life was mine.
He was a nice dude who always said hello to the dog and played good songs on the jukebox; the kind of familiar face you’d be happy to run into on the street even if you didn’t know the name that went with it. Technically, we’d met several times before, but our conversations usually centered on our affection for the “Champagne of Beers.” JP, as it turns out, wasn’t just a veteran of hospitality and bartending, but also a professional musician who’d accumulated plenty of interesting stories from both of those careers.
“Remember the Guided by Voices video they filmed in Dayton? The one that shows the side-by-side sex shop and religious store on 3rd St?”
Although he posited this query with the confidence of common knowledge, my understanding of this specific chapter in semi-local lore was lacking.
“That scene was in a Breeders’ video too, I think!” he followed up with a similar conviction.
Didn’t know either band, hadn’t heard either of these songs, and had never born witness to their associated videos. My knowledge of the Gem City as a whole was purely tangential. It was a place I liked and had been to a lot over the course of my existence, but not one I ever visited with any regularity.
Just 45-minutes-to-an-hour north of where we currently sat on barstools in Downtown Cincinnati, the seat of Ohio’s Montgomery County is often culturally and economically tied to both the Queen City (Sky Bet League One) and the state capital of Columbus (Sky Bet League Two), but it isn’t solely defined by its regional connections. Dayton (Vanarama National League) can very much be its own distinct world. And if there was a chance that this contrasting, eclectic scene of a religious retail outlet and smut shop still existed—I needed to know.
Within minutes, he found the videos while I located the street views.
• • •
At the 1:24 mark of the music video for 1995’s “My Valuable Hunting Knife,” the lead singer of Guided by Voices can be seen pulling a wagon past the light bulb-laden marquee of Todays Adult Entertainment Center before strolling next door to Dayton Church Supply.
At 1:41 in the 1993 music video for The Breeders’ “Driving’ on 9,” both storefronts can briefly be seen—details only a native Daytonian like JP would catch.
The scene still existed per the earliest Google Street View date of August 2007, but Todays Adult Entertainment Center has replaced its storefront signs with mannequins.
The scene in March 2009—unclear if Todays Adult Entertainment Center is still open.
By June 2011, Todays Adult Entertainment Center is gone, but its distinctive marquee still exists (albeit painted over). Meanwhile, the mannequins have been replaced by a banner advertising another local adult store: “Exotic Fantasies.”
The most recent image (as of this publishing) from August 2024 shows the storefront and its painted sign still holding on, but the “Exotic Fantasies” banner has been removed. Dayton Church Supply has remained open throughout all this time.
• • •
With the bar’s evening crowd starting to arrive, it was far too loud to sample the songs on either of our phones, but I promised JP that I’d listen to them soon. In my mind, though, it didn’t really matter how they sounded or if they were even good, because I was more intrigued by the visual notion of the whole thing. As someone who’s spent a fair amount of time documenting Ohio over the years, I was surprised that I’d never heard about any of this. While I knew it’d be a long shot that such a scene might still exist decades after these music videos had come out, what had me particularly intrigued was the banner for “Exotic Fantasies.” Apparently that place was not only still in business, but also commanded an iconic and striking presence on the edge of the city’s popular nightlife area.
And that scene, I really wanted to photograph.
Exotic Fantasies as seen via Google Street View.
In all my visits to Dayton, including dining and drinking within the Oregon District, I’d somehow never noticed the apparently longstanding adult entertainment store. JP was familiar, however. He’d worked there when he was younger, a now former salesman who’d resigned after he was denied commission despite being one of the few employees with the unique ability to consistently move the store’s inventory of sex swings.
“You don’t know about that place‽ It always has great signs!” he said.
Google Maps, once again, came through with historic documentation, this time showcasing a few of Exotic Fantasies’ various promotional taglines from over the years:
“DECK THE HALLS AND YOUR BALLS”
“WE GOT LUBE SLIDE INTO SUMMER”
“STROKE THAT THANG MAKE IT SANG!”
“MAKE YOUR PUSS PURRR”
And presumably placed in the wake of the tragic 2019 mass shooting that occurred nearby:
“DAYTON STRONG LOVE”
Having yet to descend into any sort of serious drinking and with a creative spirit renewed by the happenstance of an interesting conversation with an interesting person—I now debated going up North and making photographs. The allure of random adventure was calling upon me to redeem what little bit was left of a miserable day at the end of a milquetoast week.
I’d have to get the car, though. And it sat with very little gas in a garage several blocks away up multiple flights of stairs.
I’d also wanna bring the dog and she wasn’t exactly known for moving at a brisk pace in a world with so many things to pee on.
All that hassle just to ultimately drive up to Dayton and hopefully photograph the scene outside a store before it closed (and presumably turned off its intriguing sign) at 10 p.m.
The rational part of me said that this could all wait for another time. I could just add it to “the list” and get to it down the road. That was the responsible thing to do—call it an early night, make a healthy dinner, and get some proper sleep.
In my head, though, this was becoming a story. Something I could sense, but didn’t want to force. So, as a mental compromise, I self-negotiated some harebrained parameters and agreed that if they all came to pass, then I was duty-bound to the narrative and would head out.
There were two friends of mine who lived up that way. Good dudes who I’d not only love to catch up with, but folks who would also understand what I was doing, and probably be up for joining if their stations in life allowed. I didn’t expect either Jordan or Tyler to just be standing by with nothing better to do except join me on a spontaneous trip inspired by a random bar conversation, but if they they happened to be open to it—well, then that was a sign.
Except I don’t really believe in signs, and I’d already decided five minutes after texting them, that I was going to do this anyways.—and should they not be able to make it, I’d still want some company other than the dog. So, I sent up the Lammi signal.
“Up for an adventure in 20 minutes?”
“Is it in Covington [Kentucky]?”
“Dayton.”
“Come pick me up and I’ll join.”
After dragging myself, a heavy camera setup, and an easily distracted dog across downtown Cincinnati, I fired up my 2011 Trail Rated Jeep Grand Cherokee 4x4 Laredo Edition with uConnect Bluetooth Technology. Somehow, Lammi had managed to get himself over to Northern Kentucky on this particular evening and after I’d scooped him up and began cruising on I-75, he was still confused by the geography of our present situation.
“I thought we were going to Dayton?”
“We are.”
“The Ohio city 45 minutes away and not the Kentucky city five minutes away?”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
There was no time to explain as we transited the treacherous straights of suburban Cincinnati. Although we were in an automobile that had once been awarded MotorWeek's Drivers' Choice Award for “Best Large Utility Vehicle,” Americans lovingly embrace a culture of convenience that requires us to sacrifice safety for speed. A situation in which we are all guilty, horrible drivers who are actively participating in a deeply flawed system. One that none of us have been properly educated on since well before our brains fully formed.
Near the mega church and outlet mall-ridden void where the Spanish language radio station of Cincinnati starts morphing into a country format out of Dayton, Jordan and Tyler wrote in to say that they would no longer be able to make it. Which was ok, since Lammi was in one of the plush, heated captain’s chairs and actively theorizing with me how American cities might be ranked if we used the English soccer pyramid as our basis.
He also took charge of the music, and as I began coming to the realization that the Rascal Flatts’ rendition of “Life is a Highway” has a pretty great guitar riff and isn’t just a laughable piece of perfunctory pop music—my friend and co-pilot once again asked just what the hell we were doing. By now, however, we were crossing over the Great Miami River into the Gem City. And they say that one man’s Rubicon is another man’s Barstow.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see when we get there and I’m gonna need you to watch the dog.”
“Wait, Egypt is here?”
Sensing the slowing of the car onto the highway exit, the dog popped up from the back with impeccable comedic timing and two ears pointed skyward in curiosity.
• • •
As Lammi, “Eazy-E,” and I meandered down the cobblestone streets, this was going to be close. The rain was holding off for the moment and crowds were light, but time was most definitely not on our side. Just as I set up the tripod, the bright lights of Exotic Fantasies went dark.
Hoping to work some magic, and ready to use my dog as a reliable ice breaker, I walked up to the business’ door just as an employee locked it. Seeing me coming, he stood in front of the store’s colorful displays of variously sized adult novelties and looked through the glass while casually motioning a hand across his neck as if to say: “nope, we’re closed.”
In a desperate attempt to not let this trip be a waste: I held up my camera, pointed to the sign, and offered up a big smile. I was met with one in return, as well as a thumbs-up, and the kind employee switched the lights back on.
E. 5th St, Dayton, Ohio.
After I quickly made my images, the shopkeeper came out to join us. He’d been super understanding, a friendly guy who chuckled as I explained everything that had transpired to bring us to this exact point in life. It was Lammi’s first time getting an explanation too, as well as the dog’s, but she was busy fraternizing with all the stumbling bar-goers who were now pausing to pay their respects and receive bad breath “kisses.”
With the rain resuming, we bid farewell to “E-gee-lee’s” adoring crowds and packed up the camera, bound for the next thing on our shot list: the scene from the music videos.
Since we were up here, I figured I’d photograph a few other random things such as this abandoned diner (a structure that just so happened to look like another (now formerly) abandoned diner in Cincinnati):
And of course, I would’ve been remiss had I not stopped to see this fantastic mural of Carl Weathers and Sylvester Stallone within the parking garage below the city’s heliport:
Lastly, we stopped to document this classic looking Arby’s in the pouring rain:
With the Arby’s closed, dinner would need to be whatever we could find along the interstate. We ended up at Southwest Ohio’s first (and so far only) WaWa. While it was a gas station that made food better and faster than most fast food restaurants, it was also a place where I panicked over the vast amount of decisions laid out on the USS Enterprise D-style touch screen before me. All while a growing line of curious, impatient locals formed behind.
The meal was decent enough, but as I tossed a meatball from my sub over to “Egypt Louise”—Lammi and I discussed the bleak nature of our present existence. An apocalypse that hadn’t yet turned totally destructive, but one that was just overly inane and moronic. The kind where people don’t believe in vaccines or science, but derive meaning from the grand opening of elaborate gas stations.
“As long as you embrace things like an impulsive tour of Dayton, Ohio though, maybe this world isn’t so bad.” *
*Authored just before the dog and I both began dealing with the consequences of gas station food.
• • •
This story is dedicated to JP. Its title fittingly comes from one of his band’s songs: 84 Nash - Yes to the Gems.
Since 2007, the content of this website (and its former life as Queen City Discovery) has been a huge labor of love.
If you’ve enjoyed stories like The Ghost Ship, abandoned amusement parks, the Cincinnati Subway, Fading Ads, or others over the years—might you consider showing some support for future projects?
