Re: "It was just another sentence"
Body paint, you say? My ears prick up, and I launch, Rowley Birkin-style, into one of my anecdotes.
Many years ago (late 90s - and this point should be borne in mind) the large tech company at which I was working had a booth at a tech tradeshow at London's Olympia. Can't remember the name of the show now, but it was a CES-like thing, mostly focused on enterprise IT.
Our booth designers had pushed the boat out, and we had lots of space - and even a second storey, allowing for a bar and seating for the entertainment of "important" sales leads.
One day, we had a sudden stampede to our booth, and up the stairs to the rooftop bar, and it took us a moment to ascertain why this sudden interest in our sales literature.
That moment was a brief one, as we very quickly realized that... the company occupying the booth across the aisle from ours had decided to drum up interest in their products with the very on-message, tactful and respectful use of... two models, young and female, clad in brightly-coloured motorbike leathers. Leathers that on second blushing glance, turned out to be nothing but body paint and the skimpiest of bikinis.
No, I have no idea why body-painted young ladies were considered an appropriate way to advertise mouse-mats or whatever the company was flogging, but as I said, late 90s. Different times, different mores, and anyway, we all wore onions on our belts as was the fashion, et cetera.
Hence the stampede of punters to our booth's upper floor, which just so happened to provide uninterrupted sightlines over the heads of the salivating milling throng, to allow respectful consideration of the body-painter's fine art. Ahem.
"Of course, at the time, I was very, very drunk..."