Most people have a siren in their living room, as well as their bedroom. The main purpose of their glassy stare is to lure you to your financial doom.
They may not be sirens per se, but Best Buy used an RCR* on me once. I swear I walked in there just to look at potential laptops to replace my old, ailing one. But they sicked that RCR on me and I was putty in her hands. I never had a chance.
*Really Cute Redhead
What if the sailor is gay? Guess they are the ones telling the tales.
Booth babes as sirens come and go in trade show fashion. The most effective ones I ever saw were at a show where a major sponsor was hosting a “greeting poker” game - everyone had to wear a little sticker with a playing card on it and a small code number. To get that card for your poker-hand card, you had to get right in the person’s face and write down the code number, meaning you’d probably interact with them, which was the point.
To get everyone to wear them, the sponsor had three or four showgirl-quality babe/sirens in evening gowns who would step right into your path at arm’s length and while you were dazzled by their cleavage and figure and perfume, would huskily whisper, “Do you mind if I put this on your lapel?” They had a shockingly high success rate, even with the minority of women. They weren’t just pretty, they were almost dazzlingly superhuman, and thus stunning, and thus… pretty good sirens.
All I can say is that it worked for David Carradine.
Never heard a siren, though once my boyfriend and I went to every sleazy motel in town looking for a cyclops. Our Homeric journey failed–I guess he took off when he heard we were coming.