More Knob Issues

Slip of a Girl sent me this photo she received from David.


He said:

When I first saw it, was entitled, "For God's sake Ed, why don't we just buy an antenna?"

Related: Can You Tune In Tokyo?

Something Something German Porn

There is a language barrier for love -- or at least lust. If, that is, you, like me, want to understand just a bit of what you seek to besmirch.

Her name, the publication's name, the year made... something to bring you er, closer together.

Several attempts at online translation, and I am no closer to understanding Pornót forgatott az NDK hadserege than Porn twirled the NDK his military.

However, such photographs are intriguing... And not just for bare breasts beneath army jackets.

There's a retro look to them, which at first made me feel as ashamed as when I went to borrow one of my parent's magazines. What if the porn was new and I was being an Ugly American?

But fear not, it seems that somehow I have great abilities involving the translation of both film and hair styles into decades, for most other countries.

THE stáb former tagja, the yet today 57 age-old Dietmar Schürtz like an actor vett part the trolls, and in an interview she told me: the specific units 1982-ben hozták create, and 1989-ig, i.e. the regime collapse 12 in the movies made by.

See? There are skills garnered from porn.

Found via szanalmas.hu.

Theda Bara In Cleopatra

Holy crap! Someone actually owns the belt, slave bracelet and chain of office Theda Bara wore in the 1917 (presumed lost) silent film production of Cleopatra -- and I mean a some one, not an institute, archive or organization.






I'm so completely jealous -- but as it's Mary Cade, the lady who's found missing film footage (as noted in my Annette Kellerman post), I can live with it.

Speaking of Kellerman, here's more -- lots more -- on Cade's Kellerman research and collection. Don't you just want that wardrobe trunk? Looks like a grand place to stash lots of magazines.

I Miss Retro Lesbians

Call me a product of my parent's porno stash (and who isn't?), but I miss the 70's porn. I'm not just saying this for the film quality (vs. video), or the full-length artistic film presentations (and the humor, which I love with all my heart), or even the natural look of men and women with (gasp!) pubic hair, but for the lovely, lingerie wearing, lipstick lesbians.

Like these two, from the Rodox classic gallery (via Sex-Kitten's forum):



Now, even "lesbian" films made for men (and straight women), have harsh looks -- more predatory & slick than soft and beguiling. Today, a faux lesbian flick says "lipstick lesbian" with an all nude babe with dragon-lady fingernails -- which just freak me and my pink parts out. (Even the way they hold their hands to spread labia is completely unnatural in its cautionary approach, almost surgical. :shudder:)

I know it's not particularly pc of me, a straight chick, to complain about lesbian porn -- and I do applaud real lesbian films made for lesbians, which are showing what that audience wants -- but I can't help but miss the old school girlie lipstick lesbians. They were entertaining fantasies for those of us who wanted to dream -- and let me tell you, plenty of women enjoy porn sans men because everything they see they can imagine being done to them. There's no need to service a dude. How relaxing.

And arousing.

It shouldn't be a surprise that a woman who enjoys vintage porn & pinups would feel this way. Not only about the prettiness of the female form, but the tease, including lingerie.

In the 80's, porn made a descent. And not just in terms of video quality and close-ups which (for many of us at least) seem foreign and, I'll say it, yucky for it's lack of mystery & tease (what some would call romance), but for the look and attitudes of the women in it.

In pornos, women stalked for sex. But it wasn't really in the name of "equality", for female viewers could see what was really going on...

She prowled for male and female victims to have her way with -- even her begging for it was a command -- but we women (and sex connoisseurs) know, that she was skipping most of the thrills, the chase and foreplay which gives chills. In short, she was acting out the quickest of male fantasies.

It wasn't purely the fault of porn makers; it was part of the times.

In the 80's the look became either big and predatory &/or cold and distant -- hard muscles, huge helmet hair (or slick 'sharp' hair), suits with shoulder pads to present the female form in the male linebacker triangle -- even the makeup was about looking cold and remote. What's feminine about that?

Sure, we women had to do battle with men in the workplace (and elsewhere), but did we have to look like football players to do it? (Me thinketh this is part of the problem we're still facing today.)

Those who didn't don the professional predator costume wore floral Laura Ashley dresses to match their drapes and tried to move back into the 50's suburbs. They didn't accept, let alone make, porn.

The closest they got to heating up the bedroom was bringing in those matching Laura Ashley sheets fresh from the dryer.

Yeah, most of this is nice, neat, generalizations.

But I don't really care today.

I just miss my lovely lipstick lesbians, with their soft hair, glossy lips, silky lingerie, and tender tease which worked its way to a hardcore frenzy.

High-Five Fridays #11

#1 A high-five to Deanna for admitting to obsessive researching -- not only so relate-able, but interesting enough to drive me to searching too. Now I too must know who Mariposa is! I'll give a high-five to any and all who have real information.

#2 Slip of a Girl was interviewed regarding her lingerie ephemera collection over at Marty's Ephemera Blog. (Marty himself was recently interviewed at Collectors' Quest.)

#3 More retro (1960's) men pondering the nude human form: Russell Baker On Nudity over at Sex is a Red-Blooded Thing.

#4 Curt Purcell of The Groovy Age of Horror wrote Formula, Convention, and Cliche: Repetition in Genre Fiction, an excellent primer for educating the uninitiated into the joys of genre fiction (which is the bulk of pulp, don't cha know).

#5 Schadenfreudian Therapy posts I'm a Dirty Pearl -- exposing the saucier side of Pearl Bailey & her Naughty But Nice LP.

Lastly, a bonus #6 high-five to Will at Hang Fire Books (a regular here now, hmm?) for his Google Reader idea -- and trying to walk me through it. I'll get it yet, by crackie!

Find out how to give your High-Five Fridays here!

The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!

Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).

Find more High-Five Friday folks here!

** Remember, Mister Linky use is for those #1 participating in the meme (this week's High-Five Friday) and #2 who leave a comment. Thank you!

Collecting: Creepy or Sexy?

Via Boing Boing, quotes from Robert Crumb on Collecting (from Vinyl Junkies: Adventures in Record Collecting, by Brett Milano):

“Collecting is creepy. Record collectors put each other down for their various fixations. Everybody is convinced that his way of collecting is superior. They look down on casual collectors, who are just accumulators -- the kind who’ll just pick up anything and let it pile up. A true collector is more of a connoisseur, and that’s the good thing about collecting. It creates a connoisseurship to sort out what’s worthwhile in the culture and what isn’t. Wealthy art collectors in this country have sorted out who the great artists are. If you’re collecting a lot of objects of one particular kind, you develop a very acute sense of discrimination.”

“Any of the younger guys who get into collecting are quirky and oddball types, pretty maladjusted people. They’re not into hanging around in bars and picking up chicks or nothing. If they have a girlfriend at all it’s amazing. And the older collectors I know, a lot of them just have their little room down in the basement where they go and listen. They don’t share it with anyone, and their wives don’t know anything about it. So when they die, the vultures start descending.”

“Picking up chicks? Forget it! It never gets them hot, they don’t give a shit about collectors. I wouldn’t say that collectors are antisocial - that would imply that they want to do something harmful to society - but it’s not very sociable either. Very self-obsessed, kind of asocial. That’s why the world looks down on collectors, it takes a certain kind of personality. There is nothing sexy or glamorous about it. Women aren’t attracted to people because they collect. You can go up to them and say, ‘I’m an outlaw bandit’ and they’ll like that. But if you say, ‘I’m a collector’ - no chance.”

With all due respect, Mr. Crumb, I promise not to start drawing comic books -- if you'll stop telling me what kind of guys I dig.

I'll take (and I have) a collector over an outlaw bandit (or any bad boy) any day.

Related: Marybeth Hamilton celebrates the passion of a record collector, from where the image comes.

"And Now A Saucy Word From The Sponsor..." 1967

The May 1967 issue of Pageant magazine (though apparently by this time a Macfadden-Bartell publication rather than a Hillman Periodicals one) examines sex in advertising.

"Ads are sexier than ever, whether they're selling cars, champagne, perfume, lingerie, movies, or even typewriters. What -- and who -- is behind this trend toward sugar-coated spice?" asks Claire Williams.

Naturally, the 10-page spread includes examples of ads filled with "erotic promises". (As usual, click to read the larger scans.)






On page 23, the article concludes:

So, it seems, sex in advertising is here to stay -- that is at least for awhile.

One thing the general public does not realize is that, until recently, advertisers were a powerful force for sexual restraint. But they were sensitive to the growing freedom of expression, the trend toward uninhibited communication. They recognized that times were changing and made adjustments so that they could talk to people in the language they could understand.

Thus, bright, saucy ads started to appear, and it is logical to assume that this risque spirit will catch on with the people writing the articles, too. The sexual revolution is infectious and seems to be spreading.

Meantime, stay tuned for a word from the sponsor; it may be the sauciest part of the show.

Get used to the covers; as you can see there is much more worthy of sharing from this issue. (Over time.)

Photos By Philippe Halsman

Ever wonder how Philippe Halsman created this iconic image of Marilyn Monroe?

In the spring of 1952, Halsman put his signature technique to work when Life sent him to Hollywood to photograph Marilyn Monroe. Halsman asked Monroe to stand in a corner, and placed his camera directly in front of her. Later, he recalled that she looked "as if she had been pushed into the corner cornered with no way to escape." Then Halsman, his assistant, and Life's reporter staged a "fiery" competition for Monroe's attention. "Surrounded by three admiring men she smiled, flirted, giggled and wriggled with delight. During the hour I kept her cornered she enjoyed herself royally, and I . . . took between 40 and 50 pictures."

In this widely familiar portrait, Monroe wears a white evening gown and stands with her back against two walls, one dark, the other light, her eyes half closed and her dark, lipsticked mouth partly open. Yet Halsman deftly avoided any explicit representation of the true subject of the picture. Using the euphemistic language of the time, Halsman's assistant admired the photographer's ability to make "suggestive" pictures of beautiful women which still showed "good taste," emphasizing "expression" rather than "physical assets." And then the assistant added, "Halsman is very adept at provoking the expression he wants."

Also in that article on Halsman is a section on "Jumpology". While this photo of Halsman jumping with Monroe is not specifically addressed, Halsman claimed the act of jumping allows the photographer to capture a more real side of celebrities. He is quoted as saying, "When you ask a person to jump, his attention is mostly directed toward the act of jumping and the mask falls so that the real person appears."



As for the work it took for Halsman to get those famous Salvador Dali photos, you'll need to see Salvador Dali Bloopers at Infomercantile.

Malleus Maleficarum Demons Chronicals Mini-Figures

Collin at CQ reviews Demons Chronicle XI Mini-Figures: Malleus Maleficarum:

Historically, the ‘Malleus Maleficarum’, or ‘The Hammer of Witches’, was a book written in 1486 by a pair of ornery witch hunters, during the height of the persecution of these perceived ‘witches’. The invention of the printing press around this time allowed the book to spread far and wide, despite being banned by the Catholic Church as ‘unethical’. It’s a very interesting read, with entire chapters dedicated to things like “What do you do if you’ve been physically emasculated by a witch?”, which seemed to be a fairly major concern. That, and witchcraft being an affront to God, of course - but mostly, there was a lot of terror about strange vanishings in trouser town, all written in an anecdotal style akin to ‘one time I heard about this guy and this thing TOTALLY happened to him.’

The book also addresses the fact that witches can turn men into beasts, though they rarely seem to turn other females into lesser forms. By extension, these witches also had the power to make themselves ridiculously seductive, so that barely any magic was needed against whichever male they sought to ruin - just purely biological sex appeal. This is the complicated premise of the eleventh and latest set of Demons Chronicle gashapon, created by Yanoman in Japan.

Looking at them, I'm a bit surprised to see such a number of them with an ancient Egyptian theme; then again, there's the standard mythology of zodiac themes, a requisite in anything anime. Scantily clad and even nude, I should just be happy there are no tentacles.


More on the series of mini-figures, from Collin:

This eleventh series is composed entirely of female figures in mythical animal forms. They’re about 2 inches tall, with an additional heavy base for each figure, and they all come disassembled into about six or seven pieces each, which must be put together very delicately. Every figure comes in two different color schemes - a painted, full-color version, and a beige, statuesque version. New to this series is the option to display each figure with a human head, or an alternate scary animal head - revealing the duality of the nature of these shapely witches. Don’t be fooled, guys - it’s no fun to make out with a bird skull.

You can see nine more of them in at Collin's page in the CQ community.

"I wanted to see a prostitute drawn by my grandmother"

So says Project Prostitute, which then presents all the drawn images. Some of the artistic representations are of the usual variety, fishnets and smoking for example; but others are so absurd they are cute, such as the green 'lot lizard' with handcuffs.



I think what I love about this collection the most is the wide range of ideas shown; certainly the artworks expose as much about the creators as they do values and ideas regarding prostitution.




You'll also find more images from Project Prostitute at Flickr. (I discovered this by clicking 'see larger, and I find that more enjoyable than the flash galleries at Project Prostitute; there is more than one Flickr user involved, as I also found this gallery set too. So poke about and see what you find.)



And I can't help but compare these depictions of sex workers to some of the conclusions jumped to about sex collectors...



Come to think of it, that would be a really excellent project.

If you'd like to send in images of collectors of adult collectibles, sex history, risque items etc., either based on what you've had people say to you, or even what you think about me, then please do so. I'll gladly post them.

Via Fleshbot.

High-Five Fridays #10

1) Your A lawyer called; are you collecting what you aren't supposed to have?

2) Of Plenary Indulgence and the sex lives of popes. ...Can popes give themselves Plenary Indulgences?

3) Great Moments in Long Beach Sex History: Read it; there could be a quiz!

4) Booty Babe Art -- what else can I say? Oh yeah, found via Val Gryphin.

5) David Haden's Pornography in Britain: industries, markets, audiences, 1954 – 1992.

Find out how to give your High-Five Fridays here!

The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!

Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).

Find more High-Five Friday folks here!

** Remember, Mister Linky use is for those #1 participating in the meme (this week's High-Five Friday) and #2 who leave a comment. Thank you!

Ladies & Gents Noir Thriller

According to the AP, director and playwright Paul Walker's prize-winning play, Ladies & Gents, is a noir thriller performed entirely in the covered men's and women's bathrooms in Central Park's Bethesda Terrace.

The action takes place near the sinks and urinals; the audience stands, clustered in front of the row of stalls. Each of the two pieces that comprise the play runs simultaneously in both bathrooms, and it doesn't matter the order in which they are seen; the audience splits in half and switches facilities at intermission.

Set entirely in a bathroom, the show portrays the seedy underside of 1950s Dublin, when double-talking politicians professed piety but entertained prostitutes on the side.

"So, pretty much like the state of New York right now," Walker said in an interview this week, referring to former Gov. Eliot Spitzer's prostitution scandal. "These themes are always relevant."

Walker and Karl Shiels, the artistic director of the experimental Dublin theater troop Semper Fi, decided an actual bathroom was the best place _ no, the only place _ to stage the play.

See also: Canadian Press' AP review.

Fan Flirtations

We've all heard of fan dancers, but even non-professionals used fans to make come-ons and communicate. Will shows us antique crib sheets for the clueless, including this one on how ladies should flirt with fans.

Why Chicks Pose Nude, 1963 Version

In 1963, the nudist vs. men or skin magazines debate was a matter of censorship and obscenity, and when it came to publication, distribution and delivery, a matter of profit and survival. Nudist publications pushed themselves (and obscenity laws to the side) with principals of natural innocence and an anti-erotic stance. While this gave them acceptability, other issues arose.

Interestingly, the issue was not always 'art v. porn' but those of 'lifestyle', 'aesthetics' and 'self-esteem'. The August 1963 issue of Nude Living (a nudist publication by Elysium, Inc.) discussed such matters with a several page-long rebuttal to Thomas Ives' "Why Great Ladies Pose Without Clothes" which appeared in the May 1963 issue of SAGA, "the magazine for men".

Here's a snippet from Would You Pose Without Clothes?, by Alan Duncan (for Nude Living):

Admittedly the subject of sexual freedom is touchy and open to interpretations. Other authorities, for instance, might find Dr. Hoffman a bit stuffy and pedantic in some of his conclusions, especially that displaying a lovely body is necessarily a "cheap vanity." Appearing in the nude does not always mean that character is cheapened. Along with maturity should come an enlightened attitude about sex. It is sophistry to say that the woman who enjoys for many reasons (among them being admired) appearing in the nude under controlled conditions is perforce cheap, vulgar, or immoral.

The image of Diane Webber (from International Nudist) is included as Diane is mentioned and interviewed in the article -- and because you like to see nude chicks.

Cross Dressing Men In Prison

You've hear of Big Mamma's House, well here's more men in drag -- in the big house.


A promotional still for Monogram Pictures' Mutiny In The Big House (1939), starring Charles Bickford, Barton MacLane, & Dennis Moore. The seller says:

One of the movie's taglines was:

'YOUR PRAYERS WON'T HELP NOW, FATHER!" Hell breaks loose as terror rules the big house...and desperate men are bossed by a half-human killer! Don't dare take your eyes off the screen for a second---or you'll miss a shocking, sensational thrill!

We imagine this photo captures that 'shocking, sensational thrill.'

Of Bottoms Up, Getting Your Kicks, And Kicks In The Pants

The above illustration is by Bradshaw Crandell & from Ted Saucier's Bottoms Up, Greystone Press, NY, 1951.



Saucier was the publicist for the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel for nearly four decades, and this was likely all the authority needed to author a book of cocktail recipes for the elite -- and which appear to be, at least in part, credited to the elite.

For example, Bottoms Up is the first known reference of a vodka martini in the United States, a recipe credited to celebrity photographer Jerome Zerbe. (Zerbe was a long-time companion of the society columnist and writer Lucius Beebe. Beebe reportedly made so many flattering references to Zerbe in his newspaper column, "This New York," that rival columnist Walter Winchell suggested that the column name should be changed to "Jerome Never Looked Lovelier." Together, Zerbe and Beebe created El Morocco's Family Album.)

As a side-trip, some info on the Waldorf-Astoria -- and certainly such a grand old hotel deserves it's due at a sex history blog. (If only to see that our fascination with celeb watching isn't all that new.; perhaps at a later date we'll dish on the more sordid happenings of bedrooms.)

From a 1931 article titled, At Home To Society:

The hyphenated name caught the public's fancy: a great hotel—a name big enough to apply. The comedians and humorous writers of the day took it up and played upon it—a sure sign of popularity.

"Meet me at the hyphen," said one wag.

"Where is that?"

"Between the Waldorf and the Astoria," was the reply, That joke immediately traveled to Kalamazoo, jumped to Des Moines, leaped to San Francisco, and was soon told in the Hong-Kong Club. Going the other way, within a few weeks it was served as a relish at the Sphinx bar in Cairo with the newest American cocktail. By the spring of 1899 somebody was singing on the stage a song called "The Waldorf-Hyphen-Astoria," whose words various New York papers printed.

Here's a scan of Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria, words and music by E.C. Center and Jackson Gouraud (via NYPL Digital Gallery).



Here are the lyrics:

We have all met those guys who affect to patronize
The hotel with the hyphenated name
But if it should befall that on them we'd try to call,
It would be hard to find them just the same.
After hunting long and well through each separate hotel,
Without result, a fellow must decide,
They may be on the square, but if they are living there,
It must be on the "hyphen" they reside.

Chrous: At the Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria,
No matter who or what you are,
Be sure you not to Oscar as you enter.
Just speak to him by name,
And for "ten" he'll do the same--
That's the proper thing at the Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria.

The 'Oscar' mentioned, according to Nancy Groce in New York: Songs of the City, is "Oscar Tschirky, the Waldorf-Astoria's powerful and punctilious headwaiter". And the song may have mocked the name, but was more about the who's who which stayed there -- and resulting gawkers:

Of course, like today, not everybody seen there was actually a guest or a patron of the hotel's extremely expensive restaurant, the Palm Garden. Many, like the poseur in the 1897 song "Waldorf 'Hyphen' Astoria," simply hung around for a glimpse of the rich and famous.

The song was sung by John Parr in A Reign of Error, a musical farce featuring The Rogers Brothers.



It seems the production had been around earlier, and the song added later (March 19, 1899, The New York Times)



The same allure & authority Saucier & the Waldorf-Astoria held for publishers captured the attention of Hefner and Bottoms Up received a dandy review in the second issue of Playboy -- sure the nude illustrations helped *wink*


(Images via A Dash of Bitters.)

This collector cannot be restrained from wanting such a book. (Give me the $200 for the signed copy at eBay, will ya? I'd settle for any decent copy of Ted Saucier's Bottoms Up, actually; but why should I settle for anything?)

Nor can she help (nor be stopped) from noting this little piece of irony discovered during her research...

In 1931 some clever person (known only by the initials M.C.) 'respectfully' suggested that "the militant suffrage movement, now on the rampage in England, be referred to as 'The Reign of Error'."


It would seem that M.C. was unaware of both theatre & popular music to feel they had coined such a phrase. (Unless they were just 13 years of age at the time the letter to the editor was penned.)

So we begin with an illustration of a naked lady using ice tongs to select men she'll consume and end with a person wishing women would remain less than equals in the eyes of the law.

I leave it for you to discuss.

For The Risqué Exhibit-ionist

A fascinating article on the Exhibit Supply Company, or ESCO shows us both the vintage risqué Exhibit cards and old risqué arcade amusements. These are just two examples:

High-Five Fridays #9

1 Thoughts on illustrator Dave Stevens and his passing. (Via No Smoking in the Skull Cave.)

2 Eliot Spitzer's news recalls more political sex scandals.

3 The Candy Pitch celebrates Spitzer with a dose of Blaze Starr.

4 If I could get me to Boston, I'd attend The Great Boston Burlesque Exposition and Vintage Fashion Fair.

5 Have you been to Java's Bachelor Pad recently?

Find out how to give your High-Five Fridays here!

The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!

Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).

Find more High-Five Friday folks here!

** Remember, Mister Linky use is for those #1 participating in the meme (this week's High-Five Friday) and #2 who leave a comment. Thank you!

Of Sex Pots & Beautiful Girls, Beauty & Art, & Carole Landis

In case you hadn't noticed, I am as much 'anthropologist' as 'historian' and 'smut fan' -- modestly educated in each, but mostly of the well-read self-taught variety.

As all three, I welcome a more contextual approach to biographies than the usual gushing over the pretty cheesecake of yesterday. So I was really excited to discover that Eric Lawrence Gans, Professor of French & Francophone Studies at UCLA, founder of Generative Anthropology and author of several books (in anthropology and other areas), has been working on a book about Carole Landis.

Carole Landis: A Most Beautiful Girl (Hollywood Legends Series), is due this June from University Press of Mississippi. You can pre-order it at Amazon now -- but while you eagerly await the work, why not enjoy his notes in progress?



Of particular note, in the broader question of 'broad appeal', his article Carole Landis and the Concept of Public Beauty, from which the following is excerpted:

The experience of beauty--true beauty, not the mimetic sign of a fictive other’s desire--is the worldly correlate of what we call immortality, the timelessness of the realm of signs. It is an individual, not a collective experience, one that finds its guarantee on the individual’s internal scene of representation rather than on the public scene of ritual from which it derives.

The beauty of art is a beauty of representation, of signs rather than things. Because artworks are composed of human signs, the postmodern spirit that sees natural difference as the product of cultural victimage tempts us to construe them entirely within the "socially constructed" orbit of mimetic desire and its deferral. But mimetic desire, even as a specifically human phenomenon, is founded on appetite, with which it loses contact only at the point of madness.

The prototype of Kant’s idea of natural beauty is landscape, a source of esthetic pleasure less in itself than by analogy with landscape painting. But by far the most intense experience of natural beauty, indeed, of beauty tout court, is that of human beauty. In classical civilization, this beauty was more likely to be masculine than feminine, but beginning with the troubadours and medieval courtly love, the terms "beauty" and "beautiful" have been applied more and more exclusively to women. Since the demise of the Old Regime eliminated the sacred/aristocratic notion of self-display, the norm of masculine dress has become sober and conventional, whereas women’s clothing and adornment remains attuned to displaying the body to advantage.

Some feminists have complained of the "objectification" of women in such things as beauty contests. Yet historically, the increasing insistence on feminine beauty parallels the growing equality of women. Today, when women are arguably closer to equal public status with men than ever in history, young women’s dress seems geared more than ever to the flattering display of the body. The obvious difference in the respective degrees to which sexual selection has reshaped male and female bodies obliges us to conclude that, lacking special cultural circumstances, female beauty will always be more humanly significant than masculine. Nor is this beauty appreciated exclusively or even predominantly by men. Not only do women actively seek out examples of female beauty to imitate; they are touched by it, perhaps more authentically than men. Of the many people to whom I have shown Carole’s pictures, a far greater proportion of men than women feel the need to deny her exceptionality. To my mind, this difference is attributable to the interference of the shame of masculine desire with esthetic judgment. In particular, interest in the bosom is so vulnerable to ridicule that efforts to avoid it dominate whole historical eras, for example, the 1920s, during which time men’s real tastes in women’s bodies could hardly have undergone some mysterious mutation. Women, unencumbered by male embarrassment, are much more ready to acknowledge female beauty when they see it.

While earlier on, Gans' adoration of Landis is quite apparent with poetic praise -- which he will again and again return too -- it's his context and tone of unapologetic anthropological study which makes me believe Carole Landis: A Most Beautiful Girl will be more than just the usual biography of a babe.



Gans continues:

I would not be writing about Carole if I saw her as one among many beautiful and talented actress whose lives were shortened by exploitation and calumny and/or unjustly neglected by history. My experience of Carole is of someone unique, and it would be unfaithful to that experience for me not to begin from the premise of her uniqueness. This leads to an anomaly that must be faced head on. How can it be that during the era when Hollywood wholly dominated the generation of images of public beauty, only one person has left us a truly beautiful public image, and, if this is so, how is it possible that this person and her images are so nearly forgotten today?

Although many are reluctant to admit it, a woman’s beauty begins with her body, which the glamour photograph can only suggest; with a few possible exceptions, such as the infamous Marilyn Monroe calendar, nude photography before the 1970s was either art photography or pornography, neither of which are modes of what I call public beauty. The subject of the picture says to us, "take this image as a substitute for what I cannot show you, but which I promise you is there." Yet the typical glamour shot (classically, an 8x10 black and white glossy), even of the presumably most beautiful stars, promises something it cannot deliver. The disparity between the physical beauty that the subject’s dress and comportment promise us and what our objective judgment concludes is really there is a measure of the mimetic element in our cultural perception; one is expected to sacrifice one’s judgment on the altar of cultural mimesis to the (implicitly collective) suggestion emanating from the picture itself. The spectator must supplement the image’s failure to fulfill its promise (a relative failure, to be sure, but the promise is of "absolute" satisfaction) with images of the star’s film roles, perhaps of her off-screen life. The success of the Hollywood publicity machine in determining our sense of public beauty is a tribute to the effectiveness of this sacrificial operation.

Do yourself a favor and peruse the Carole Landis pages of Gans.

Collections: Public Or Private?

Reading of the Center for Sex & Culture's requests for donations (via the SK message boards), I am reminded of several issues.

Personally, I support the center; but like many private collectors, I have mixed emotions on such donations...

It's not just personal greed -- though I readily admit I want stuff! -- I've heard of and seen many smaller museums, centers, 'group collections', organizations etc. fail. And I don't just mean financially in the sense that they fold-up shop; some of them, due to poor funding and training, do not properly care for the items in their collection. And in some cases, people have just up and walked off with goodies they've cherry-picked from the collection (stolen goods cannot be shown to anyone, really). All of which puts objects at risk of permanent loss.

I'm not accusing those with the Center for Sex & Culture of anything here; just allowing the thoughts it prompts to post regarding my mixed emotions and general concerns.

There's an ongoing debate between private, independent collectors and collectives or official museums centered, usually, on the matters of who takes better care of collections, & the public's right to access them.

Often museums view themselves as most trained and prepared for the preservation of items, but in a world of shrinking support for the arts this isn't necessarily so.

Many private collectors do arrange for public viewing of their collections, including lending the collection, in whole or parts, to larger public institutions; even as many organizations and museums relegate items to 'the basement' or other off-limits areas of the institution, rendering them unavailable to the public.

Determining a hard-and-fast rule on what ought to be done is prevented because, as with many things, the decision rests on particulars which vary with individuals and individual organizations. Thus the debate of just 'who should own and collect' continues.

And it brings up several other matters in collecting, pubic access, viewing and ownership.

While your usual artistic fare is available in representation (for example, Monet posters to purchase while the original painting's ownership is not possible), many other artworks & artifacts are not. Some because they are not legally possible to reproduce (copyright ownership issues), others due to budgetary constraints (set up costs for quality work are unobtainable) and even strict restrictions of such things (for example, items willed to a museum with stipulations). And others, such as 'porn', are either deemed in poor taste to do such things with, or with too little buying interest to recoup creation/replication costs.

The Internet has been a boon to such public viewing. Even with censorship (perceived threats and actual actions), it is an opportunity to share as well as research. However, museums and institutions, both large and small, have been among the last to jump in these digital waters.

Partly, this is due to lack of funding -- even a free Blogger blog requires some person to write & post, and a struggling institution may have no one to do such work amidst their other duties. And many volunteers, though interested, are deemed unable simply because they would require supervision and access which diminishes resources.

Largely, however, the matter of not being on the Internet is one of choice.

Having been privy to conversations among museum professionals, it's clear that the matter of entre to the Internet isn't merely a lack of technical ability and understanding, or even funds for such a venture and its staffing needs; it's the simple matter of a lack of understanding the possibility whilst fearing some probability.

Many institutions fear the world wide web's free display of objects & information; the virtual tour will replace the physical visit and it's at-the-door fees -- which are required to support the physical space & persons required to maintain the collection. For organizations which document not only the marvels of technological advances but the fearful cultural responses to these advances is not merely ironic, it's rather sad.

They cannot claim ignorance while they house exhibits dedicated to such things as the story of - and reaction to -- the cotton gin. Or, for a more easily digested comparison, the invention of the television and the groups which feared the tube.

On argument against TV was the fear that it would destroy families, morals, and country with its passive and/or inappropriate programing; this is the anti-culture argument which many professional collecting organizations talk about. It is a two-fold argument. A), having an Internet presence is not only equal to encouraging people not to really experience the arts and interact with community and the world at large with visits to museums, performances, etc. B), such participation in the web is tantamount to assisting in the vast amounts of misinformation which exists 'out here'.

The motion picture studios feared the smaller private screen would trump the larger public experience and put them out of business; this is lack of asses in the paid for seats is exactly what museums fear will be the end of their own industry.

Clearly, in any of these arguments, there is a complete lack of understanding of marketing & audience -- and even of mission.

The huge numbers of historical sites -- from those dedicated to the smallest details of a particular item, time period or person, to the largest more all-encompassing portals -- should only serve to comfort museums, libraries and organizations that there is a hunger for what they offer. Their audience, volunteers, members and even deep-pockets of financial support await them here.

The best way to combat misinformation -- from the ignorant mistakes of the passionate to the mean-spirited zealots who wish to control & use information -- is to participate in the conversations which are already in progress. Put up a site, blog your collection piece by piece, and comment at other blogs and communities. Even if time and budget limits your ability to comment/correct every blogging Joe and Josephine who is missing the facts, your accurate information coupled with your official status as the organization with both artifact and historian, means there is valid information for those who do research.

And then there are the countless possibilities of finding experts, authors, & items.

In the end, any institution or organization with an active presence is likely to garner the attention it wishes -- including more paid admissions and donations. I myself am more likely to visit places, near and far, which I know have the items I am interested in if I am able to see and read of them, knowing that knowledgeable, passionate staff -- and visible objects await me. Ditto any other support (from donations to blog posts).

When it comes to the topic of 'smut collections' and sex history, I must also admit that I see little to convince me that this category won't be the first area to be negatively affected by funding cuts, diminished or invisible display area, curating efforts, and to be under appreciated in general. It's largely why other organizations which began dedicated to this part of our history have failed -- too little public support and outcry in favor of such acquisitions, care & funding while the nay-sayers speak loudly & carry big sticks to punish such sinners.

Countless headlines speak of art museums moving 'offensive' classic artworks from public view, and the world goes on as if this is no big loss. Each one of these cases is used to leverage the next censored public display & so on & so on until one has to wonder just when and where those objects and works will be seen again... Not to mention, wonder just what the hell is going on.

When sex history collections are in private hands, there is little threat from public outcry -- at least while the collector is alive. But then, any decent collector of indecent collectibles will have made proper arrangements through their estate. (I myself am open to receipt of & care for such collections, should no other situation avail itself.)

Given that I have A) a low tolerance for museums and organizations which either resist the Internet or create only static pamphlet-like websites, B) know of so many private collectors who are willing to share their collection and knowledge, and C) see little institutional dedication to sex in terms of a strong public stance against ignorant public outcry (even the Kinsey Institute is too damn quiet these days), I'm more inclined to resist donations to groups and museums.

At least until I see a willingness to share (images and information) and participate (in conversations and study) despite & in spite of censorship calls.

Enoch Bolles Film Fun Cover

Film Fun, December, 1941

Frankly Fiona

Girlfriend & creation of the late Paul Raymond, Fiona Richmond became a columnist & a porn star (model and film), recorded an album, worked 'in the fashion industry' (how vague) &, eventually, became the owner of hotels -- with a former pig farmer.

All this gleaned from the postmortem Mirror interview with her (post Raymond's death; not hers).

One of her books, Tell Tale Tits, received a favorable review at Trash Fiction (and apparently Fiona is a huge draw at the site).

Paul Raymond Presents Frankly Fiona, the LP, is a scarce recording -- which Richmond, in her autobiography, says she didn't even sing on. (Adding to the mystery, some places refer to the LP as a 'spoken word' record.)

The small photo at left is from the record's cover, via Trunk Records (scroll) who adores it. However, whatever, the record makes the #11 spot on the 20 Most Bizarre Albums Ever in Q Magazine's 150 Greatest Rock Lists Ever (2004).

The photo below is believed to be of Fiona and Big Mal (aka Malcolm Allison, the UK football coach), part of the photo spread feature celebrating Big Mal inviting "the sex queen Fiona Richmond into the communal shower" -- making the list of top 10 football scandals (in a world where sex has always been high on the priority list).



According to the Crystal Palace Football Club forum, pictures of Fiona Richmond and the players appeared in an article in Men Only magazine in either the May or June 1976 issue.

If that's true, then it looks like they'll be found in May issue (vol 41, issue 5, 1976), which proclaims "Fiona's Illustrated Big Mal".

Along with columns in Men Only, Richmond also wrote columns and was featured in other magazines, like Club, aka Club International, published -- surprise! -- by Paul Raymond Publications.

King of Soho Dies

Paul Raymond, "Britain’s Erotic Entertainment Magnate", died.

Raymond began his entrepreneurial life selling black-market nylons during World War II and went on, in 1958, to own "Raymond's Revue Bar in Soho, the first licensed serious nude strip joint in London.


Self-deprecating about his cultural status, the self-called "spiv" went on to publish various men's magazines; marry and divorce dancer & choreographer for his club, Jean Bradley; and then date porno queen Fiona Richmond for several years.


The story on Raymond's death at DailyMail is more salacious that the first obituary piece linked to (NY Times); but nearly all the 'reports' rely on comments from his ex-wife and estranged son. I have no doubts that the loss of a daughter to drugs and being one of the wealthiest men (with all the trappings and trappers it brings) were troubling, but it's difficult not to read the salt-pouring infliction of the words of those family members he left behind and be a bit cautious, if not out-right suspicious.



I rather enjoyed this quote from Jean Seaton, Professor of Media History and the Official Historian of the BBC, found at TimesOnline UK:

“He was a symptom of a radical change in sexual attitudes which was driven by feminism. What feminism did was put sex on the table and say, ‘This is part of our lives’. But he took that and commercialised it to extract monetary value from it. He made porn mainstream by making men feel less of a failure for needing it.”

While many articles play-up Raymond's (self-professed) cultural deficits, placing the man several paces away from Hefner, that quote puts the real lay of the land rather nicely in context.

Rest in peace, Paul.

See also: My post on Fiona Richmond.

High-Five Friday #8

1 & 2 See what's at Mike Cade's sexy album covers and compare to Maxim's list of the sexiest album covers. Then argue like the perverted erotica lover you are.

3 Francesco D'Isa at Lucrezia: "A widely exhibited artist, Francesco uses various methods to present evocative female portraits that challenge conventional concepts of beauty, eroticism and femininity."

4 Gloria Brame's coverage of sex & arts is always worth the time.

5 The California Literary Review discusses the Erotic Art of Ancient Pompeii.

Find out how to give your High-Five Fridays here!

The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!

Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).

Find more High-Five Friday folks here!

** Remember, Mister Linky use is for those #1 participating in the meme (this week's High-Five Friday) and #2 who leave a comment. Thank you!

The Pleasure Primer

An ad for an adult bedside reader found in the back of a 1950s vintage Western pulp magazine. Below, a copy of the book's jacket.

Ivor Novello

The producer of The Man Without Desire sure produces desires...


Actor, composer/songwriter, director and night club owner Ivor Novello, namesake of the Ivor Novello Awards for songwriting, awarded each year by the record industry.

Monica Lewis: Blonde Bombshell... Banana?

Monica Lewis was born in 1925 in Chicago, Il, and went from hosting, at 17, her own radio show in New York to become an accomplished pop singer and jazz stylist, television personality, and film star.

The blonde beauty who graced many a magazine and advertisement naturally rubbed elbows with giants and would-be giants. From her official bio:

she paused for (and sometimes steered clear of) romantic entanglements with Ronald Reagan, Frank Sinatra, Ed Sullivan, Herman Wouk, Sidney Sheldon, Kirk Douglas, Richard Rodgers and Milton Berle.

(Shown at right with a young Ronald Reagan.)

My disc-overy of Lewis began with her cheeky backside of her 1945-1949 Song Book Collection, Monica Lewis Sings.




She was discovered by Benny Goodman and quickly was recording at Signature, Decca and Capitol where she worked with such musical greats as Billy Butterfield, Yank Lawson, Bob Haggart and Teddy Wilson. Her early recordings ranged from Gershwin, Kern and Coward, to more risque songs such as I'm Gonna Be a Bad Girl (which she co wrote) and was the first to record Put The Blame on Mame.



A quick search and I discovered Lewis was the singing voice of the animated Chiquita Banana for 14 years (1953 and 1967). This fascinated me, as you'll see, because Chiquita was one hot fruit -- and I don't just mean the banana's exotic tropical local either. Lots of folks find the Chiquita Banana a-peeling.



Seldom does a fruit inspire such lusty thoughts. Wile no doubt part of the sexual confusion is due to the whorish glamorous garb and makeup, I suspect it's really the arched back which sends the libido a message.

When Chiquita became a woman rather than a banana, I lost interest too. A woman's a woman, and as far as illustrated babes go, she's not as exciting as the pre '87 forbidden fruit was.

Back to Monica Lewis.

Her musical success brought MGM a-courtin' and the studio signed her in 1950 as their response to to Lana Turner. She was in a number of films, including, as this still shows, in The Strip.




In 1956, at what many would call the height of her popularity, Lewis would marry Jennings Lang and busy herself with running an 'executive household' and mothering their children. She made the occasional television appearance, but it's for her supporting roles in Lang's blockbuster disaster movies, such as playing the heroic stunt secretary Barbara in Earthquake, that she is often most remembered.

My favorite was when she played a retired jazz singer in The Concorde: Airport '79 (1979), the third sequel to Airport (1970), that she was really 'noticed' again.

Cool Cinema Trash notes that in the film Lewis is joined by her "jive-talkin', pot smokin', saxophone playin' friend Jimmie Walker."

After an impromptu jam session, she worries, "Maybe I don't have it anymore."

"You're like fine wine, you get better with age." He assures her, "And you're gonna get those Russians drunk."

For more, read about the recently (September, 2007) announced rights for her biography, Be Bop, Borscht and Banana Pie, here. (I hope it's published soon; I've got room in my 'to be read' pile.)

Meanwhile, you can content yourself with reissued CDs and films, as well as collectibles. While her official website teases that memorabilia is available, I've yet to find any there. Until that changes, check eBay.

Because things like this amuse me...

The cover of Monica Lewis But Beautiful:



The cover of a 1953 issue of Novela Film, a Yugoslavian movie magazine:



Guess they couldn't afford the better prints for publication.

Language Barrier

An interesting collection of relationship postcards from Spain.



While the online translations (both the owner's and my own attempts) remain awkward, the illustrations say much about relationships and communication.

Can You Tune-In Tokyo?

The old joke of tuning in Tokyo while pretending to adjust or tune a woman's nipples or breasts like knobs on an old radio set comes to life with this retro transistor radio.




A little sexy doll in a see-through babydoll nightie has her arms stretched over her head, accentuating and offering her bust -- which makes sense because her nipples are the dials. One is for tuning in stations, the other is for switching the radio on &/or off.

According to auction listings, she measures 11 1/2 inches tall, 6 inches wide.






While one is listed now, these radios are not super common. At least some of these radios were made by Windsor, but they must not have clear maker marks (or, quite unlikely, sellers neglect such details), so the best way to search for them is with nude doll radio, sexy transistor radio doll, and variations thereof (including misspellings).

The first one I'd ever seen was in rough shape and I've been watching (and saving photos) ever since.






In 6 months, I've only spotted 6 of them (and some sold over $50); so happy hunting.

UPDATE: 3/08/08

A blonde version of the doll -- and you can just make out the box, with its clear plastic window; but the seller has not identified the maker.

Salvador Dali

Salvador Dali became one of my favorite artists the minute I saw The Temptation of Saint Anthony.



Dali did many a nude...





Including versions of Leda & her swan.




It's difficult for me to imagine Dali as alive in the atomic & repressed 50's, but here he is, on an episode of CBS's What's My Line?

Film On Flesh

In Gracie's review of John & Mary (1969), there are images from the film of one of those gosh-darn-cool-big-city parties where those naughty artistic folks projected film onto live nude girls a female nude.


I've not seen the film (yet), but have, naturally, heard-tell of such things. When I read/saw the John & Mary review, I was reminded that I'd recently stumbled upon some more recent projection photographs and I realized something... Why I had not thought much of them.

I then tried to retrace my Internet-steps, which was not easy. I couldn't find the original photographer's website -- and I searched, doggedly, for over an hour, with no luck (which made this female bitchy). Instead, I offer you this: The Living Canvas.



What strikes me, when I think of those radical retro artsy projection parties, is the fleeting nature of moving images upon flesh -- which also moves. You have the magic of something seen on, by not felt by, the model/canvas/person. You have the ephemeral quality of it all happening in moments, and then it's gone.

It's titillating, transitory... Arousing and alive. And then it's over. No matter how young, ripe and lush the body, the life, the party or event, everything ends. Only to live on in memories and flashbacks, I suppose.

I 'get' the performance, be it the old or artsy party or the new theatrical event; but the photographs seem to loose something. What they 'gain' in ability to keep, they loose in luster. The very stillness of the human form, the lack of movement, even subtle breathing, puts the matter of 'alive' into question and the moment saved is really not the moment at all.

When performance, however subtle, is replaced by a pose, it's just film on film.

No longer is the flesh really a part of the image at all.

And for me, the thrill is gone.

Covers of Marlene

I'll be honest and tell you that my love affair with Marlene Dietrich began with hearing Lili Marlene. It still haunts in the most pleasing of ways.


But some prefer their Marlene more glamorous...


Others love their Marlene in combat boots.


However you prefer your Marlene, one thing is certain: You can put Marlene on your cover, but you cannot do a 'cover' of Marlene. She's the one and only.