I have a love/hate…mostly hate…relationship with fans. (the ones that blow air, not the human ones)
It sounds fun and glamorous to have a Marilyn Monroe moment on set, but it is NOT.
Wind= 10,000mph. From all directions.
Dress = Revealing parts of me that are not “appropriate”
Mouth=4,000 strands of hair.
Me=…(leaving this blank for you, mom.)
(The only exception to this rule is when it’s 90+ degrees outside and you’re inevitably wearing ski jackets.
At these moments the fan is a lifesaver… and almost always broken.)