at her discretion

One of the most glorious things about the internet that I’ve found, is the past being opened up in ways we never could have imagined. We now have easy access to images and insights from previous generations, that would have previously only been available by accident or with extreme dedication. And they say it’s all about the future! Not always so, in my experience…

One aspect of this that I come across very regularly in my travels, is an apparent plethora of ultra pulpy and highly sexual novels from previous decades. Mostly from the 50’s-70’s, it seems.

Recently I posted a series on The Wanton Women of Literature - of which there are more to come - but for today, our topic is Lesbian Literature, of a slightly ridiculous nature.

Allow me to illustrate:

Oh, of course he was! Even though satan is clearly pictured with regulation goatee, pointy moustache and horns…. SATAN WAS A LESBIAN! I’d give my left arm to read this book, just to find out what the hell is going on here. I suspect we’d be up for some serious bondage action.

So, let me get this straight. Not only is satan a lesbian, but now females from Greenwich Village? Is that ALL females? Are women who live in Greenwich Village satanists? Wait, what? Now I’m getting confused….

Satanist bohemian adulterers! Now, I’m getting the picture….

Oh, now you’ve gone and lost me again…. Lesbians are damned, too? Are they in gaol for adultery, or for being lefty bohemians, or for being satan incarnate? I give up.

It’s interesting to see exactly how taboo homosexuality was in past decades, and judging by the sheer volume of gay pulp book covers I have acquired of late, there was no shortage of an audience for it, as you would expect.

Funny how these covers remind me of something those covertly pervy Anerican Republican types might come out with in the present day.

Under an alias, of course.

“Beer! Beer! Sing it loud and clear!”

Although some may argue with me, there are basically four types of beer: lager, ale, pilsener and dark beers (such as stout and Guinness). I’m partial to all of them. I’m not so fond of very bitter variations, but I appreciate quality beer with depth and flavour. I also like a good pint and if you’re wondering why there aren’t any Guinness advertisments included in this lot, it’s because their advertising history is so great, they deserve their very own entry. Stay tuned.

If you’ve been following this blog, or my Tumblr in the past few months, you may have noticed my penchant for vintage ads and photographs of many decades. Here, I’m on a beer tangent, and the advertisements appear to be from the 50’s, possibly early 60’s, but I have to tell you, it’s the last specimen that thrills me most…

Beer called “Bambi”! Hell, I’d drink it, even though I’m no fan of Disney. Come to think of it, I’ve never tried Russian beer, period. Assuming that is what we’re looking at. I could be wrong and I’m very open to correction… What IS that language?

Beer in glass! What a revelation. I know some countries still sell a lot of beer in cans with the intent of pouring it into glass, but it seems that it took a while for beer served in bottles as a concept to catch on. Obviously the consensus is that that beer tastes better in glass! Yes! It does!

At the risk of offending a LOT of Americans, Budweiser tastes like something scraped off the bottom of my shoe. I even had a gulp of it just the other night, just to make sure. I was right. WHY millions of people want to assault their tastebuds with this dirty tasting beverage, which has no depth of flavour or any real redeeming features barring the fact it is alcoholic, is beyond me. Cute ad, though.

Vart Brygg! Try as I might I can’t find a translator for these words, but as far as I can ascertain Brygg is a Norwiegen drop which is enjoyed by slightly angry looking men in woolly polo necks. I’m almost afraid to try it myself, but I’ll try just about anything. Just as long as I don’t have to drink with these guys. Although the guy on the right is possibly misleading us with his fetching neck scarf….

If you appreciate fine beer, here is a site for you.

No matter how jaded or cynical you are about love - and don’t hide, I know there a zillion of you out there - you can’t not love some good, old fashioned romance.

These photos make me smile, not only because I am in love, but also because they hark back to a more innocent time, with women in pretty frocks and men with undying ardour.

Let’s renew our faith in love with some lovely pictures of hands on hearts:

No, he isn’t reaching for a murder weapon, he is professing his undying love. Stop that, right now. I heard you.

I love the “lean in”. There are so many photos of this vintage featuring variations on this pose.

Despite the fact that you could say she is the original inspiration for Dr Evil, of Austin Powers fame, I think her pose is quite comely and coy. And NO, he’s not having a heart attack. He’s IN LOVE. With her breasts, apparently.

“Here, darling. Just one step and you will walk again.” Am I appearing cynical? No, I just can’t help but see a story in a picture. Again we have a lovely example of the “lean in”. Gorgeous. I wonder what he is saying?

And here we have the ultimate lean-in. A lovely little chaise is just made for this kind of pose, don’t you think?

I think they look happy and definitely up for a bit of nookie. Despite how long they must have been holding that pose…

Allow me my delusions.

These truly vintage photos make me happy. I’m not sure if it’s the comely poses, or the black and white photography, the sets, or the fact the women actually look like women. I just like them. A lot. I love these photos.

We bathe. Women bathe. Is that a surprise? I’d hope not. Beautiful photographs, all…

There appears to be no water in her rather shallow bath, but do we really care? I don’t think she does.

I do try not to think of my grandparents, or even great-grandparents when I look at these photographs, but even if I do, it gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something going on that they didn’t tell us about.

I was thinking for a moment that I would love to have someone dry me off. Male or female. A nice fantasy, perhaps? In truth, I think I’d rather not. Except for when I did….

Here is where things become terribly decadent. Oh, to have such servitude. I love it.

Note: I wrote to WordPress about the fact I had been blackballed by them and implored them to come up with another solution to people reporting you as “mature” content. I received a lovely email back indicating they’re in the process of doing exactly that. I was also told that my blog had been taken off “mature”, but I’ve seen no evidence of that yet. Time will tel and all that. I may write back…

FATE magazine has been a staple for believers in mysticism and the paranormal for decades aplenty. Hailing from another hemisphere, and in many ways a different world, I didn’t happen upon this little gem until quite recently. Perusing FATE magazine covers since it’s inception in 1948, I was disappointed to discover that in 1959, FATE gave up on illustrated covers and reverted to cover art that was purely made up of text. I’m not sure whose idea this was, but it doesn’t seem like a winning trend in marketing, to me.

In the years between, FATE published some very entertaining covers. Some of which I will share with you now. Today’s theme being Women in Peril:

Now there’s a line in fetishism. Sex and hypnotism. Although this is not far removed from sexual parasomnia, one has to wonder due to the premeditiaion if this isn’t some precursor to date rape?

I’m not sure why I find this cover so beautiful…. in a slightly disturbing sense. Is this an offering to the god of grapes?

At first I thought this woman was trying to take a photo of Pan, but on second glance I see it is something quite different. Silly me.

Blimey. Human sacrifice? Were all the executioners dressed as superheroes? Forgive me Aztecs, but this looks a little like a couple of Rick James wannabes dressed up as Flash Gordon playing hairdressers. Scary.

I’m more interested in the Lost City Beneath the Sea.

I know a little about witchcraft and something I’m sure of is that women performing this kind of ceremony wouldn’t be wearing bikinis or fetching underwear. Of course in semi-mainstream 1958 we have to keep it semi-clean. Is that woman in the background levitating? I’d rather be doing that naked, especially if I was being ceremoniously pushed around. What?

More intersting magazine covers to come.

Women in bathing suits have always been the object of admiration for men [and women], world over. Even back in the day of “neck to knees” and puffy bathing caps that looked more like shower caps. Today, I want to share with you some quirky vintage photos of women in what was obviously quite the style in swimwear for a certain period. Stripes. I, myself have owned a number of stripey bathing suits, although, nothing quite like these….

A pin-up in her day, no doubt. Even with the footwear. I wonder, did she swim in those?

At least she’s not pretending to be at the beach, unlike these comely young women:

Just good friends or les-be-friends? Who could know? I’m quite sure that was the titillation intended. An interesting set they’re posing in. I wonder if it was touched up, or just clever placement?

How pretty she is in her stripes and parasol. Quite a convincing set, too, for its day.

“I say! Look, Mabel! See that funny looking gentleman with binoculars? What do you suppose he is looking at? It must be difficult to hold them with one hand in that way, don’t you think?”

Either that or it’s lunchtime and they’ve just spied the kiosk…

I love their obvious curves. They give me hope.

…and she made a splash in Cannes. Excuse my mostly unintended pun, but what I am saying is true. As a 19 year-old, Brigitte Bardot was photographed on that Cannes beach in her bikini and caught the attention of - if not the world at large, because America wasn’t quite ready for so much flesh to be on display in a mainstream sense - many a horny French director and her subsequent appearances in films inevitably led to the vision we know today. Brigitte Bardot, Sex Bomb.

We all know there is more to the story, but for now I had the idea to post these photos of the 19 year old freshly ambitious young actress and model. The girl she was before the bleach, heavy eyeliner and pressure of being one of the most sought after women in the world overcame her. Before she tried to commit suicide, aged 26. Before she withdrew almost completely from public view in the mid-’60’s.

Could this not be a photo of any young girl experiencing the freedom of her youth?

The thing I love about these photos is that she is barely recognisable as the sexual creature we are mostly familiar with. Although the photos are clearly of a young woman posing for the camera, there is a distinct air of innocence.

At 19, Bardot had already been married to Roger Vadim for a year. She had wanted to marry him at 17, but waited until she was 18 at the insistance of her parents. The marriage lasted five years and several films.

Before long the world would come to see Brigitte Bardot as she is remembered today. Do I speak as if she has died? Of course she is still alive and well, but I am speaking of the blonde bombshell and icon that she became. The status she shuns to this day.

It’s all for a good cause. More respect to her. I still think she’s gorgeous.

More Brigitte to come…

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I’ve collected vinyl albums since I was a little girl and one thing I noticed very early on was the proliferation of racy images featured on album covers. Nudity and come hither poses were quite common, even on top 40 hits compilations, and were rarely hidden from my curious child’s eye. I’m not sure if such artwork was common in America, being painfully aware as I am of U.S. censorship policies; this very blog has been shut out of the U.S. based WordPress community entirely for being too “mature” for er… somebody. Maybe someone can enlighten me on this…

I have quite a number of album covers in my collection featuring nude women (not so many nude men, I have to point out..) and I’ll be posting them here little by little over time. I thought I’d start with a pretty pink and blue theme:

I’m sure many a young (or old) man has enjoyed their own version of a “blue dream” whilst relaxing to the New Sound of Continental Tango.

The wonderful thing about vinyl of course, is that the covers are so large. Even bigger than say… a magazine? *wink, wink* However I am wondering if the “blue strings” are to do with nudity, or the possibility that she looks a bit depressed. I guess we’d have to listen to find out…

The cover of this record appears to be mostly in Japanese. I have to wonder what constitutes a “pink mood”, much like the “blue strings” above. Hmm. I’m having thoughts of womanly parts and accompanying pinkness. Then again, maybe it’s just a bunch of very girly songs.

Here, we have almost no information about what is on this record, or who it is recorded by. How would you even google this? All I can say is that it fit so prettily into the lovely blue and pink theme for this blog, that I just had to include her. I’m sure you don’t mind. :)

I can’t be sure where I collected all these images, but I could be sure that at least one or more of them are courtesy of LP Cover Lover.

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All women like to have pretty hair. There may be some exceptions to that rule, but even the women you wouldn’t expect to want to have pretty hair, probably still want it. These days, most hair advertisments are most off putting. Flowing, swinging manes in shampoo commercials with unattainable hair shine that blinds. Bring back helmet hair fashion, I say. Bring back the days where if a soul laid a hand on your precious hair, it would be considered the height of rudeness and the scoundrel in question would receive a quick slap on the wrist.

Oh, who am I kidding? I actually like having hair that looks better the more mussed up it is…

Even so, there’s something so appealing about cultivated curls:

Helene Curtis is our heroine. Hairspray that is delightfully different! I’ll tell you something I’ve learned from this ad: How to pin hair for that swooshy and flattering 40’s look. Humidity be damned! I’m in…

I must have some Minipoo, immediately! Minipoo is just the thing for me on those days when I feel a bit greasy but am too lazy to actually wash my hair. There is nothing I would rather wash my hair with than Minipoo. I just hope the name doesn’t in any way reflect the ingredients…

Well, I’m due for a colour lift. Which colour should I choose, do you suppose? I think Misty Pearl might be a little premature for my years, and the same goes with Silver Shimmer….. I am strangely drawn to Deep Auburn, which is slightly disappointing, due to the utter lack of cheesiness or imagination in its name.

Something tells me this woman isn’t going to get the best results from her Ronson combing her hair that way. Maybe she forgot the “hood” part? It kind of looks like she’s trying to suck off her own face…

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Gils Elvgren (1914-1980) is one of the most famous and ubiquitous painters of American pin-ups of the last century. Being not American, even I am aware of his influence, but maybe that has more to do with my interest in this subject, than anything else.

Elvgren painted hundreds of women in his time, although it seems he used only a few women as his models. The paintings are eclectic in nature, yet so very similar. All of them feature very pretty women with beautful figures, in varying situations. Some posing purely as pin-up fodder, others slightly left of centre. Despite the sometimes obvious sexist nature of his pictures, even for their time, it’s hard not to look upon them with admiration and maybe a bit of a giggle in this day and age…

One theme I couldn’t help but notice when looking through the collection of his works in my possession, is the contrary nature in which he portrayed women. In many paintings the women look strong, assertive and in control of their situation. In others, not so much…

Today, I’m focussing on the not-so-much’s….

Help Wanted! - 1956

You have to love firstly the woman’s pursed lips, an Elvgren trademark. Next, what on earth is she doing with that chair? Obviously her skirt is an encumbrance. Most of us can relate to the horrors of deckchair unfolding. Although I do suspect the bottle in the bottom left hand corner of the picture plays a part in this… “Oh, please help me, Mr Man! My skirt seems to be caught in this darstadly deck chair!” “Don’t worry darling, you just have another sip of that Bacardi Breezer and everything will be alright…”

Let’s Eat Out - 1967

“Oh, no! Mr Man, I burnt the brownies! Whatever shall we do?? ” “Honey, don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing. Let’s eat out, but don’t change your underwear.”

I don’t have a title for this one, but rest assured that I always hang pictures in my home dressed in suspenders, perky bra and high heels. I also have a tendency to be very accident prone, so if you catch me at the right time, you might just be able to help… “Ouch!”

Red, White, and Blue -1966

Clumsy, clumsy girl. Look, she’s ruined her pretty white dress, when I could have picked it up for a song in an Op-Shop and claimed it as my own. Sard Wonder Soap can work wonders… “Oh, no Mr Man! I spilled sauce on my dress!” “Don’t worry, Angel… I’ll lick it right off”.

And so he did. Pursed lips and all.

Plenty more Elvgren postings to come. That man has absurd themes oozing right out of his body to this day…

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