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Start your morning with a sexy chuckle…

I went to an antique postcard collector’s expo here in NYC over the weekend and picked up this cute item. I love these funny risque British postcards and have collected several. It gave me such a chuckle I wanted to share it here. Have a pleasant Monday and a good week!~~Irv

 
 

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A passion for Japanese erotica…

Over the last couple of weeks, on Sundays, I got a lot of views on this blog from Japan, many more than I’ve gotten in a long time from anywhere. On our blog dashboards, we can see where the views are coming from and how many we get.

Japan, the land of Aoi Sola, one of my favorite adult actresses ever! Her combination of warmth, humor, friendliness and thrilling lack of inhibition on-screen made it easy to develop a crush on her and seek out her many sinematic performances. I’ve always regretted not getting to see her in person at NYC’s Japan Society when she turned up several years ago for a talk. I wrote about that here in 2011 in the early days of this blog. And here is a good recent article from TheCultureTrip.com about Miss Aoi for those of you who don’t know about her unusual career and a crossover from porn to the mainstream that eclipses any such professional segue we’ve ever heard of in the adult field, including Jenna Jameson’s here in America. And here is a 2015 article from Tokyo Weekender.com about her popularity in China. Her name is also spelled as Aoi Sora, but with either spelling it means “Blue Sky,” a most appropriate choice indeed given the sunny feelings (among various emotions) that her work can inspire.

 

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: I got the feeling that perhaps one Japanese reader was going through my entire blog these last two weekends. I don’t know for sure, and it could have been multiple readers, but not knowing why I would suddenly get a lot of views from Japan, I guessed it might have been one reader whose curiosity was piqued by my posts. I really appreciate the interest and hope that, whoever you are, you’ve enjoyed my work!

For my part, I find Japanese erotica some of the most entertaining, stimulating, and creatively realized. I’ve enjoyed looking through beautifully edited Japanese men’s magazines, full of their gorgeous photography of pretty girls. Even when the photos just showed the models in swimsuits, they always had an especially resonant sexiness.

Movie-wise, some of the best and most memorable porn scenes I’ve ever watched were in Japanese hardcore videos over the last ten, fifteen years. I have a friend who watched an incredible number of these movies himself and would direct me to some really excellent videos. We had long and enthusiastic discussions about our favorite actresses like Rei Himekawa and Sakura Sakurada. I wish I could tell you what the titles of these movies were, but most of them were in Japanese on the boxcovers, usually with no English translation! Elsewhere on this blog here I’ve written about the stars I admire like Megu Hagiwara or Kaya Yonekura.

Here’s a nice photo of Sakura Sakurada which I found at the AsianBabesDataBase.com here.

Moving into more niche interests, with my obsession for femdom erotica, I’ve long been a huge fan of the art of Namio Harukawa too, reveling in his atmospheric depictions of amazonian ladies subduing slaves with big butts, powerful thighs, and, of course, their indomitable will to rule men. In fact, I believe I wrote one of the first American articles about Namio, back in 1988 for an early issue of Cheeks magazine, which I started editing that year (and continued to edit until 2005).

Another Japanese femdom artist whom I like, I only know by the name Harukano:

As far as mainstream Japanese movies dealing with femdom, my absolute favorite is Moonlight Whispers (aka Sasayaki) which I’ve written about here (in what has been by far the most popular post on my blog over the years); and I also enjoyed a film called New Love in Tokyo, which had some of the best and most evocative dungeon scenes in the context of a dramatic movie.

In the best scene in New Love in Tokyo, a dominatrix breaks down a cynical visitor to the dungeon by playing on his weaknesses until he completely surrenders to her. She leaves him alone in the dark for awhile, and that’s when she finally gets to him. It’s been a long time since I saw the movie, so I may be vague on these details, but I never forgot this film. You can read more about it at TheSameCinemaEveryNight.net here, where I found the poster art above. I can’t believe I saw it well over twenty years ago!!

Lately I haven’t gone much to strip clubs, but in recent years my favorite dancers were Japanese women who were working here in NYC as exotic dancers. Sometimes we discussed  BDSM fantasies, but for the most part I used to just visit them to talk and get a few dances. I became quite friendly with two of them.

Finally, one of my favorite writers is Junichiro Tanizaki, regarded as one of the greatest of the 20th century. He also frequently dealt with fetishism, female domination, and even the cuckolding scenario in his famous novel Naomi and foot fetishism in Diary of a Mad Old Man. The poster of the film version of the latter, which I found on IMDb, is below.

 

In fact, I gave one of my Japanese stripper friends a copy of Tanizaki’s terrific book of bizarre stories, Seven Japanese Tales, to read when she took a break from the club for a few weeks. It contains his great story about a woman with a spider tattoo who ends up conquering the man who gave it to her. Ironically, though, my dancer friend thought the book was a little too kinky and strange! That surprised me because she was the one who told me her fantasy was to be a mistress and lead me around on a leash, a revelation that certainly kept me interested in her for quite awhile, hoping this fantasy could someday be enacted (alas, it never was, except perhaps figuratively in that she certainly kept me on an invisible psychological leash with me constantly coming back as her customer.) Anyway, I was disappointed too because I had re-read the entire book to discuss it with her on her return from her break, but she had almost nothing to say about it other than it was “weird!” Well, I couldn’t argue with that. It was weird…but also great. Maybe she wasn’t much of a reader, either…but she was a fun companion in the club, which was the most important thing.

Well, I’d love to go to Japan someday and, among many other sights, see some of its erotic culture up close and live, and not through only magazines, pictures, or videos. Perhaps I’m a bit of a mad old man myself now! 😉

 

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Jane Dickson’s art reminds me of lively lonely nights in sleazy old Times Square…

I recently caught up with “All That Is Solid Melts Into Air,” an exhibit of paintings by Jane Dickson which bring to life the Times Square of the old sleazy era in the 80s and 90s. Her style is her own but its impact reminds me of Edward Hopper’s, evoked primarily through urban night scenes; as in Hopper’s works, deserted streets and places have a loneliness that’s not entirely sad, but also thoughtful, introspective, almost peaceful, and sometimes even inviting—as in this picture of a guy with a placard for a club called Dreams (I vaguely remember that club’s name, although I don’t remember if I ever went there)…

Jane Dickson: “Dreams” 2018

Dickson’s paintings in this excellent show at the James Fuentes Gallery on NYC’s Lower East Side (on display through February 17, 2019) feature a woman’s face looking through noirish Venetian blinds; a boy at a bus stop in an ominously red full face mask; a girl dancing in peep show with a customer on the other side (we get the peep show’s window eye view)…

Jane Dickson: “Peep,” 1992-96

 

There’s a painting of a low angle on a woman navigating a baby stroller down a stairs; the front of the big Peepland that was situated mid-block on the south side of 42nd between 7th and 8th Avenues; cops running on the street in some kind of frenzied police action; an evocation of the Terminal Bar that used to be (if I recall correctly) at 40th and 8th Avenue; and my favorite painting, showing a long hallway leading to the “employees only” area of a strip club, with a solitary half-naked dancer, almost out of eye view, leaning against the wall–you can almost imagine the rasping sound the linoleum would make beneath her high heels…

Jane Dickson: “Employees Only,” 2000

The colors of Dickson’s paintings and their varying sizes suggest indirectly a complex mix of personal emotions, those of the painter or (more vaguely) of the subjects of the pictures, just as Hopper paintings do for their era. One painting I also particularly liked, and one of the largest, was a vertiginous angle on the stairway/escalator leading downstairs in the old Nathan’s Hot Dogs that used to be at 43rd and Broadway…

Jane Dickson: “Nathan’s,” 1984-86

I went down that stairway many a time to eat a frank in the forlorn expanse of the lower level dining room (I lived in Times Square myself in the 80s, only a few blocks up).  This painting in particular reminds me how the old raunchy neighborhood (I never called it “The Deuce” myself back in the day) might have made you feel lonely, or was a place you went to hang out when you were already feeling lonely (or horny); but it didn’t necessarily make you feel ashamed of being lonely (or horny), as the new overly technological tourist-filled Disneyesque miasma of 21st century Times Square does for me. Once you were allowed to sit in your solitude in Times Square, perhaps feeling forsaken but not defective for not having a wife or family in tow; knowing that you could find distraction only steps away in any number of strip clubs or peep shows or in library-like adult bookstores where you could stand wordlessly side-by-side with other strangers and browse through assemblages of erotica that sometimes, depending on the particular store, could appear to the scholarly-minded almost Smithsonian in their range. After all, it was in places like this that I found rare mint copies of the original John Willie BIZARRE magazines from the 1940s, at prices so low it was clear the merchants had no idea of the value of what they were selling.

So if you have a casual interest, a deep nostalgia, or a fascinated yearning for the bygone Times Square depicted in HBO’s series The Deuce (see my own thoughts on the show here), check out Jane Dickson’s beautifully evocative paintings at the James Fuentes Gallery, located at 55 Delancey Street. Here is a link to more info, and another link to an interview with Ms. Dickson and a preview of the paintings. Also check out this interview by Ben Yakas in The Gothamist on the occasion of the publication of her book of street photography and art, Jane Dickson in Times Square, which you can find on Amazon here.

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Postscript: It’s funny, but I just realized, in looking this over as I was editing, that my selection of the pictures to illustrate this review really evokes a typical night for me back in the 80s or early 90s. I didn’t assemble the pictures consciously with this in mind, but studying them now I see how they match the pattern of my many lively lonely travels through Times Square. Seeing a guy advertising a club, I might have gone to the venue, or maybe first to a peep show, then to the club; later, in the strip joint and having had a few beers, I would invariably head to the men’s room and might well have seen a dancer having a cigarette back near an “Employees Only” area; and finally, having had my raunchy fun at the club (or even been disappointed, as could frequently happen), I’d stop at Nathan’s for a hot dog and Coke…a meal that could be lonely, yes, but also satisfying in a quasi-Romantic “I’m a lone wolf” kinda way…  😉 You know, “lone wolf” as in David Janssen in the great old 60s tv series The Fugitive? Except that I was probably just running away from having to spend too much time alone with myself…

But that’s the subject for another post someday.

 


All examples of the paintings shown here are by Jane Dickson, as displayed at the James Fuentes Gallery NYC January 16 through February 17, 2019.

 

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Silk stocking magazines set me off on the quest…

Silk stocking magazines…just the name is so evocative!

I’ve written here before how I’m always fascinated walking around Manhattan and remembering what occupied a particular space long ago. For example, this decrepit building at the northwest corner of 46th Street and Eighth Avenue housed a fantastic video store, DVD BLOWOUT, that sold obscure cult movies like stuff from Something Weird Video in addition to its hardcore porn; and next to it was the Full Moon Saloon, a place where I did a good amount of drinking back in the day…

This is what has replaced it: shiny, tall, and a hub for tourists.

I also remember, when I pass by an Asian noodle shop near the southwest corner of 49th St. and Eighth Avenue, that long ago in the 70s its space was occupied by a used magazine store, where I first came upon these magazines (scans taken from my own copies, some of which I’ve sold at memorabilia shows):

I recall asking the slender gray-haired middle-aged guy behind the counter near the door what these magazines were. I had never seen these publications before, packed with the nylon-sheathed ladies of the late 40s and 50s. “They’re called ‘silk stocking magazines,’ ” he said. Amazingly, they were only $2.50 or $3.00 a piece, so I bought three or four. Now they go for about $25 a piece, even in just good, not necessarily, great condition. They’re hard to find. BEAUTY PARADE, TITTER, FLIRT…these are the titles of the mags in which Bettie Page and other popular models frequently appeared. They were published by Robert Harrison, who later in the 50s went on to great notoriety with the scandal-mongering CONFIDENTIAL magazine.

Little did I know that my lifelong quest to collect vintage girlie mags and endless pinups had begun! I still have the copy of FLIRT, which I bought in 1977 from the late Art Amsie, the dealer and collector who was a cornerstone of the pinup revival, and who even photographed Bettie Page himself. It’s a mint copy which I’ve only looked at a few times, wanting to keep it in as perfect condition as possible—not because it’s worth so much, I probably couldn’t get more than $100 for it; it’s just nice to have an issue so well-preserved from so long ago, when most of them are so fragile they fall apart as you turn the pages. You can read my profile of Art Amsie here.

You can see how un-seriously these mags were treated by some folks before the interest in pinups was renewed in the early 80s. The price $3.00 was casually scrawled on the gorgeous Peter Driben-painted cover of TITTER, along with the date!

If you’re interested in seeing more of these covers and the insides of the mags, look on Amazon here for a Taschen book called 1000 PIN-UP GIRLS, and your orbs will get their fill of the fillies! Note their variant spelling of “pin-up.” Me, I always spell it “pinup.” 😉

 

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FATE OF A STRIPPER: when she goes too far~~

In the coming year 2019 I’m going to try to get my novel FATE OF A STRIPPER out there to more readers. It’s a damn good piece of work but so far has not found the audience it deserves. I may also make it available in a paperback edition as well as in the current ebook format.

Check out the lengthy free sample right here, below, and see what you think…it’s not porn, not erotica, but a psychological suspense story about a young woman who goes too far in trying to control her life, and the older guy she gets mixed up with.

For the time being, it’s still only $2.99, and can be read on phones, tablets, computers, and of course on Kindles.

What a great movie it would make, too!

 

 
 

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Warren William would have played a perfect sex fiction charlatan…

Today, as noted by some of my friends on Twitter, is the birthday of the king of the pre-Code movies, Warren William–that master interpreter of likable scoundrels, charlatans, and sleazeballs. I couldn’t resist making this screencap off my tv the other night when he was up to his orbs in trouble pretending to be a successful Park Avenue doctor (!) in Warner Bros.’ 1934 BEDSIDE. The movie was shown on TCM (Turner Classic Movies) the other day.

“I’ve always made it a point to be strictly ethical,” says “Dr. J. Herbert Martel” aka Bob Brown (Warren William) as he hires “Sparks” (Allen Jenkins) to get him some publicity as a medico in BEDSIDE.

 

One of the fun aspects of editing sex magazines was assigning fiction to my writers, one of whom, who went by the byline “Luther Selleck,” created a character named “Mr. Baxter.” In various guises in many stories, ranging from World War 1 fighter pilot (“Ass Aces of the Great War”) to New York City cockroach nemesis (“The Nutty Exterminator”) to ancient Greek judge of a butt beauty contest (“Assmasters of the Acropolis,” there under the name “Baxocles”), Mr. Baxter went his cheerfully amoral way through adventures with an assortment of fetching ladies–and depending on the magazine’s title (I edited CHEEKS, LEG WORLD, and GIRLS OVER 40), their chief attractions physically for Mr. B would be either derrieres, legs, or overall “cougar” appeal.

Although my writer Luther didn’t model Mr. Baxter on Warren William, when we later discovered Warren William (after Mr. Baxter was created) both Luther and I agreed that Warren would have been perfect in the role had there ever been any “Mr. Baxter” movies!

So, a tip of the hat to Warren William today on what would have been his 124th birthday!

Born December 2, 1894, died September 24, 1948.

 

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Pointy bras and headbands in the 1960s

I was reminded how sexy girls could look in the 1960s when I watched a rather mediocre late Boris Karloff movie, Die, Monster, Die, from 1965. Suzan Farmer, the British actress who, without a headband or pointy bra, was also quite fetching in Victorian garb in Hammer’s Dracula, Prince of Darkness from 1966, here looks quite luscious as she shows Nick Adams around Karloff’s gloomy manse. I couldn’t help but snap a few screencaps…

In a couple of the pics it looks like ole Nick couldn’t resist an ogle or two himself!

My eyes nearly popped out at the audacious choice the costume designer made for Suzan’s pointy white bra visible under her pink sweater…

The fun continued as the camera artfully kept Suzan primarily in the frame…gosh, it all came back to me when I saw this movie: I really loved girls in headbands…

Suzan moved too fast for me to get a clear shot in my camera, but this is an artful profile…

When the duo move to another room, we get to see Suzan’s delectably tight, but ladylike, skirt as well…

The light falls just right…

Suzan looks as if she’s about to playfully tease Nick for not focusing at her face.

Selfishly, Nick now blocks our view of what is crucial in this scene.

But still it’s clear that there’s chemistry here…

Applying some of that ole Johnny Yuma charm (the character Nick played in his hit tv series The Rebel)…

Suzan’s his for the moment: headband, pointy bra, tight skirt, and that lovely warm smile.

Miss Farmer had a nice face. I like how the scene rounded off the sneaky eroticism of showing off her shape in that vaguely see-through sweater over the white bra, and showcasing her blonde hair with the headband, by coming in for closeups that make you yearn for her soul as well as her body. But that was the magic of moviemaking back in the day. Even if the horror movie wasn’t good, you got horny and fell in love with the beauty onscreen.

Here’s an interesting obituary for Ms. Farmer from The Guardian in 2017, with trailers of some of her films. And another headband shot!

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2018 in Erotica

 

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