Brütal Legend’s art was brilliant. I remember Tim Schafer saying that he wanted every vista to look like the cover of an 80s heavy metal album, and it pulled it off. The Razor Girls are every middle-school fantasy, right down to the John Hughes/Farrah Fawcett hair.
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Wait, are you me?
For whatever reason I decided to do a Google search on her, and found out she gives talks at Shoot The Centerfold conferences. She studied photography and interior design, became a set designer, and owns a construction company. You see tragic stories surroudning women who posed for Playboy; sounds like it worked out for her.
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Though the first ones I’d seen would’ve been 1978-79, the first one I remembered on sight was late 1981 (November, I think – I’m not going to look it up again at work). But I don’t remember many of them – thinking back, for whatever reasons, I was more interested in (attracted to) the other pictorials – e.g. Rita Jenrette, the Girls [sic] of Braniff, or of Kokomo IN – than the centerfolds. (Braniff was when I figured out that some women must shave, or use Nair.)
Judging from photographs, my dad’s parents seemed to have hit old age when they hit 40. (My mom’s dad was a different story – he re-married at 67, to a woman older than him. They went on cruises, took disco lessons…)
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I read an interesting article once on “velvet horn deer”; apparently when deers become overpopulated, there’s a significant increase in the number of male deer whose horns keep their soft adolescent velvet and never fully grow out, and those deer are almost exclusively homosexual. So apparently the horns can signal other things, too.
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A few years ago I grew a handlebar moustache for a few months, and I used to attract the weirdest characters. Once I was accosted on the train by a fellow waxer, who was a charming and friendly if slightly exuberant fellow. We engaged in light conversation and he chatted amiably with me and other passengers before he turned the conversation to his chosen profession, which was the sale and broking of 80s jazz mags such as Escort Razzle and Fiesta. British porn magazines have some of the best names. There’s something of Carry On about them. He proceeded to pass a few examples of his wares around the carriage which was much to the consternation of some of the middle-aged women that a few moments earlier had been squirming happily under the flattering spotlight of his flirtation. It was at no point clear whether this was a serious profession, or a hobby or even compulsive habit run wild.
Funnily enough, in the good old days when I was younger and still harboured some illusions about my own attractiveness, I used to go out - well, approximately - with a girl who had appeared in Escort a couple of times. She wasn’t an escort, I hasten to add - it was just the name of the magazine.
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Liz Stewart. Still looking good…man, those eyes still get me hummin’
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I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
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I entered a writing contest ages ago, where we had to plug an unlikely fictional character into an adventure with pirates. J. Alfred Prufrock was my entry. I came in 4th. 
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I’d like to see that one. In fact, it should be a film. Pirates of the Caribbean with J Alfred Prufrock meditating on social uncertainty. Script by e e cummings.
Yes, I am off topic. I embrace my off-topicness.
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Wow, that really is informative, in the way @anon61221983 mentioned above. Size and color is immediately evident: less of both each decade, until it’s down to a thin white line.
Skirts/dresses used to be longer, so it wouldn’t show.
In the same way, getting rid of pubic hair became more and more normalized with the rise of bathing suits that exposed more of the pelvis area. There’s literally a public/pubic connection!
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Fascinating! It’s kinda beside the point, but a super interesting tangent.
It was surprising to see the really real shots just a few years later, with clearly very little post done. Almost too real! They feel naughty!
Truth.
I assure you, I am not in the habit of trying to move American porn mags, but they’re taking up space, ineffective for masturbation, and they are worth more than nothing, in fact, they’re, like, objectification on a printed scale worth hundreds, I suspect; there’s even some local hook-up mags with homemade ads and pics of local swingers.
Hmmm. On second hand, maybe I should keep this gold-mine for future character inspiration…
“I like big dicks, quick visits, and no talk.” Annie–Madison, Wisconsin, 555-DICK.
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