at her discretion

“When I look at myself, I am so beautiful I scream with joy!” – Maria Montez

So are the modest words of Maria Montez: Actress, model, author, poetess, gay icon. Her legacy lives on in her images and many of her films have still yet to be released in modern format. She did however, star in a handful of notable, if not credible films in the 1940’s including Arabian Nights, Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves and Cobra Woman. Do you sense a theme here? Just, maybe…

Dominican-born Maria was born in 1912 and died an early death in 1951 after having a heart attack and drowning in her bath, aged 39. I find it a little strange that she is one of the few stars of screen who has not been idolised posthumously, after dying so young. Perhaps it was her lack of credibility in her choice of film roles, her atrocious acting, or that her beauty was somewhat before its time.

To me at least, she was one of the most striking screen actresses of the 20th century.

I’m not sure what kind of bra she’s wearing, but whatever that contraption is, it’s impressive. I particularly enjoy the way the lines of her fringe [bangs] and bustline create a stark juxtaposition next to the curve of her face and body and the jagged lines of the tiger print. A beautiful photograph – Bettie Page eat your heart out!

Maria Montez: “Queen of Technicolor” – in black and white. Surprisingly, there are relatively few photographs of Maria to be found. It’s a crying shame.

This photo is a publicity still from her film, Cobra Woman.

“Give me the cobra jewel!”

A still from Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. Maria bears a close resemblence to the glorious Ava Gardner, yet precedes her by a number of years. I do so enjoy the elegance of the 1940’s.

I think I am correct in saying that the actor pictured is Dennis O’Keefe, but it matters not. This photo still oozes glamour and sex appeal, despite the cheesy posturing.

As a final treat, I have for you a juicy little clip from Cobra Woman, complete with bad acting, beautiful women, a rakish hero and plenty of snogging.

Teehee.

Unless you count joyfully imbibing Archie and Dennis the Menace as a child, I really can’t claim to be a comic book reader of any kind. In fact, I’ve always quietly pointed my finger, giggled and rolled my eyes at nerdy types who indulge in the format – including friends. Possibly because of the proliferation of [mostly] guys who seem to enter another dimension talking about anything comic related. Most likely because I’ve never taken the time to enjoy modern comic books at their best.

Recently I’ve been introduced to a few series of critically acclaimed comics by a special friend of mine, and it’s been quite an eye-opening experience. Comics have come a long way, and that is both in terms of artwork and writing.

My friend recently had a birthday and I took it upon myself to try and find him some nice and unusual artwork, from the genre. I knew he liked a few artists: Paul Pope, Gabriel Ba and Ben Templesmith were all contenders… and then there was Ashley Wood.

Ashley Wood, is Australian and from Perth [as is Ben Templesmith], and is a highly acclaimed artist of many media and genres. He’s worked on Judge Dredd, Tank Girl, Metal Gear Solid and many others in comic form, as well as contributing to major film, music and other video games. His career is impressive:

I especially love the way he paints women. This painting reminds me of Goya. It’s beautifully dark and dense and l love the shades of yellow and brown. Without the title graphics, I would hang this on my wall.

He always paints women as powerful beings, with an interesting combination of angles and curves.

Again, minus graphics, this is a beautiful piece. Some may call it pornographic, but I call it art.

Ashley Wood obviously has a fine appreciation for the womanly figure. I enjoy his titillation and respectful, yet sexy portrayals. More comic book artists could take a leaf from his book.

The really wonderful thing about Ashley Wood is that I ordered a couple of picture books from his website for my friend’s birthday, and was thrilled to receive an original drawing and handwritten thanks from the man himself, just for purchasing a couple of small, inexpensive books of his artwork.

One day, I’d love to have one of his works on my wall.

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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