The cigar-smoking men in New York City basements who flirted with legal disaster by selling kinky photos via back-page ads in pulp magazines back in the 1950s truly knew how to combine a variety of fetish fuels while still somehow keeping their models fully covered. And that’s how we got two blondes in fancy lingerie having a hair-pulling cat fight:
I very much regret that the sole scan I have of this 1948 advertisement for the Fortuna™ Ritesize™ line of girdles and pantie girdles is limited in resolution and clarity. My best image-searching tricks have not availed us today:
OK, so maybe you weren’t expecting the foot in question to be adorned with patterned hose, a toe ring, or, you know, labia.
Photo is from Extreme Lesbian Footing, formerly to be found at FootWorship.com, but now, like so many other things, to be found in unfathomable depths of the Kink.com porn libraries. And no, in case you were wondering, this gentle bit of foot sex is not, I think, why they used the word “extreme” in the title of the shoot. Perhaps this, though?
In general, the men of my acquaintance don’t really enjoy attending weddings, and require inducements. Usually that’s “make a woman happy” or “free booze” or “the bride has a lot of hot friends with poor judgement.” But sometimes, you just know that the antics of the bridal party will be worth the trip:
As much as we’d all like to believe this is an actual wedding photo, it isn’t; it virally escaped from a “the bride and her two best friends are a lesbian threesome” porn shoot about fifteen years ago.
Somehow I believe women’s wrestling would be a more popular sport if the uniform was stockings, heels, and pearls, as it seems to have been a hundred years ago:
Her lingerie seems a little fancy for an office with décor so pedestrian, but maybe her nooner with the boss is a regular affair and she likes to undress to impress:
There’s not much about this photo that makes sense, until you understand it’s from a vintage lingerie ad inviting magazine readers to “come out of the bone age, darling” by upgrading the bone stays in their girdles to modern technological materials in the form of “circular springlets”:
In 1951, when nylon stockings were big business, a storefront in New York City went really big with this eye-catching sales display. I guess that’s one way to sell hosiery!
This is claimed to be a 1949 photo by a young Stanley Kubrick. One supposes the scene must have taken place in a hard-working lingerie design and/or marketing bureau:
It’s 1963. This stacked blonde invites you to her house to watch some “special European” movies on her home projector. Of course you’ll be there on time, you dunderhead!
Via Kinky Delight. I did some searching to see if I could identify the good-time blonde. I could not and did not. But I did find the same photo in living color! I’ll take it:
Somehow, these pretty sirens are at their ease in an undersea forest of waving kelp, and yet their underwears are not even damp-looking! These dark magics are for luring hapless mariners to their deaths, no doubt about it:
From a Maidenform advertisement for their “Sea Dreams” collection. Don’t be lured! (Ok, maybe just a little luring…)
I’ve never actually been in a multi-floor department store with elevators and live (or recorded) announcements to let you know where the elevator was letting you off. I wouldn’t even understand the concept without having seen the ancient British sitcom Are You Being Served? but now that I have, it also informs my comprehension of this joke:
I can’t make out the cartoonist’s signature, but the cartoon appeared in the November 1943 issue of the What’s Cookin’! comic magazine.
The supposed scenario for Chloe Carter’s Submissived shoot is that she spends so much time lounging about in the fancy deep tub pictured above, pounding her pudding under the hot water from the tap, that her stepfather has become angry about the unsustainable energy bill. And so he bursts in upon her in an angry lather, drags her out of the tub, and they proceed to enjoy a quasi-incestuous bout of adult-daughter/step-daddy BDSM sex. (Although you’ve seen very little of the stuff here on my old-fashioned blog, porn themes that flirt with incest without quite actually crossing the traditional taboo line are all the rage these past couple of years, as the old porn companies struggle mightily to find something that porn surfers still find novel enough to pay for.)
Of course I don’t buy this scenario entirely as described for a very simple reason, not that we couldn’t list a few dozen others. But mine is this: no woman wears lingerie like that into a bathtub that she expects to enjoy in perfect privacy. In fact, if there’s a lingerie wishbook illustration somewhere for “lingerie to be dragged out of a bathtub in”, it probably looks a lot like the lingerie Chloe is wearing…
This is a surprisingly sexy and sophisticated cartoon for a 1937 men’s magazine; it looks far more like something Hefner would have published in Playboy thirty years later. It comes from the December 1937 issue of For Men Only:
As nearly as my limited statistical tools can specify, of all the 4,728 posts on ErosBlog since 2002, the most popular in terms of continued traffic have been the posts sharing Sophia Loren’s hard-to-find photos from her one topless movie shoot. In light of that curious fact, I thought I should also share this 1963 photo of Sophia Loren adjusting her stockings:
From a vintage postcard found at Wicked Knickers. [Wicked Knickers was an awesome Tumblr once, before all its links went dark behind a #pornocalypse-driven adults-only forced login. Broken links now retained on ErosBlog for historical purposes only, and in case they are healed in future by social, political, or economic change. Clicking not recommended.]
Chelsea Summers, whose blogging has grown sporadic in recent years, remains worth waiting for. Here’s a pair of recent posts about the power of fancy and expensive lingerie:
Since that Friday in September, I have not stopped shopping for lingerie. I am breathy with the magic of it. It’s a giddy, girly contrivance, these dreamy imaginings of silk, nylon and lace. I have spent altogether too much money on these matching whispery sets (and I’ve way too many in shades of crimson, scarlet, cerise and bubblegum pink). But I love them, love them for their precious glow, their caress under the globes of my breasts, the way they hug my hips. I love them for the potential of showing them to others, lovers or no. I love them for their erotic promise to myself.
Make no mistake: there is great power in the wearing of good unmentionables. I defy any woman (regardless of how she comes by her womanhood) to put on a perfectly fitting bra and matching panties and not feel girded for battle. Lingerie may look like sweet nothings–and the best lingerie does–but if it fits right, it acts like internal Kevlar.
These days, I know what I want: caressing unmentionables, intriguing men, luxurious sex, sparkly conversation, the comingling of the previous, and the quiet satisfaction of the door shutting when it’s over. I don’t know where I’m going with this juggling fine experimental phase, this sexual walkabout. I don’t know that it matters. I do know it’s not settling and that it fits me, exquisitely.
I guess this is supposed to be lingerie, but it’s so fancy I literally can’t imagine when it ought to be worn in real life. No matter, Raquel by a frog pond is all the excuse we need:
Either she thinks she’s got a spanking coming, or she’s thinking something like this: “My boyfriend is an ass man, he’ll never be able to resist this ass in these undies in this pose!”
Potentially, she’s thinking both of those things at the same time, even.
Bondage Blog has a great piece this morning featuring a pretty girl being shrink wrapped, in a latex balloon. In 1939. By a meat packing company. In the pages of Life magazine, in front of God and everybody and your prissy great-aunt Beatrix.
Granted, treating girls like meat was probably uncontroversial back in 1939. But what fascinates me is the fetish fuel question. In 2010, this is fetish fuel of the highest octane. Bondage Blog rattled off six or seven fetishes it touches on, and I could add several more without a strain. (Lingerie, breath control…) But was it obvious fetish fuel then? Was this a bit of clever marketing by kinky bastards who knew how to get a press release covered by Life, which in turn knew that it could publish the kinkiest shit in front of Aunt Beatrix and everybody just by playing dumb and keeping a straight face?
Or was it, in all innocence, the “gosh-gee-whiz this is how you’ll be getting your beef” celebration of marching technology it presents itself as? Were people really that innocent in 1939? I find that very hard to believe.
Complicating all this is the fact that fetishes evolve over time, and I’m not aware of anybody who has tracked those evolutions in any rigorous way. When did rubber even become a fetish material? (I know it was well established as such by the time John Willie started publishing his Bizarre magazine in the late 1940s.)
All the source I have on this is that it was in a directory where I sometimes save images of eBay merchandise. A cabinet of unlabeled curiosities, that’s my hard drive…
Normally I do not stop for hitchhikers. However, exceptions can be made for those wearing suitable attire:
OK, OK, if you pressed me I suppose I might concede that it’s, uh, “barely” possible she’s out on the street in that outfit for some purpose other than hitchhiking. But I’d much prefer to think she just needs to get to Omaha in a hurry.
