Faggotry
Out of Print: After Dark pt.2
Sorry to be out of touch for so long, my faithful
blog readers (both of you, yet I'm just delusional
enough not to refer to you by name). As you can see
by the previous post, I misspelled "Eppley." My
sincerest apologies to everyone at Omaha's Eppley
Airfield and anyone else I may have offended. I made
it back to Austin, just barely and without my luggage
at midnight. But a midnight nosh at Katz' Deli got me
back in the Texas swing... so to speak.
On to matters at hand. As promised, here's the second installment in my After Dark series. You can read part one at this link or just scroll down, which would probably be easier. That'll give you all the background you need. If you're just too damned lazy to click or scroll, here's the elevator version: Trolling the North Loop vintage shops I found this stack of hilarious old mid-70's "New York Lifestyle" magazines for men. Which is obviously code for Mag-GAY-zine. I bought a few so I could scan 'em, snark 'em, and provide fodder for my rarely-brilliant, even-more-rarely-read interspace on the webbertube. Let's go!
The time: November 1976
The city: New York
The magazine: After Dark: The National Magazine of Entertainment
The event: DISCO FEVER!
For whatever reason, Editor Bill Como thought that the perfect accompanying graphic to their Disco Fever issue would be Broadway superstar (?) Chita Rivera in full "Cabaret" drag. What do these things have to do with one another, you may ask? Well, so far as I could gather from the issue... nothing. See for yourself:
Those eyelashes! The backlighting! The pancake makeup! Folks, this is the pre-Photoshop world right here. In the era before Photoshop Disasters, there were just plain old in-studio disasters. Run of the mill, but seem strangely refreshing in this over-polished age we live in now.
But if it's the Disco Fever issue, then where's the "dancing dudes?" Oh... right here:
I'm torn on the hotly contentious issue of Disco Fever. I musically came of age in the Disco-backlash 80's. When wearing bellbottoms and shaking one's "groove thing" was considered horribly passé, but tight-rolling one's Z Cavaricci jeans and teasing out one's hair to the New-Ro strains of Adam Ant was acceptable. That said, there are certain elements of disco that I can appreciate: Complex instrumentation, traditional musicianship, danceable beats. But my early memories of "cool" are Dr. Jonny Fever declaring that disco sucked and cranking some Pink Floyd. Isn't there room enough in the world for both? And have things really changed all that much? Can I not have my Andrew W.K. and my Jamiroquai together?
But a better question may be, in regards to the above photo, where did the defined gentleman above keep his keys, and did he take maracas with him wherever he went, or just to the club?
"I just get After Dark to read about great stage and screen artists like Agnes Moorehead... I honestly hadn't even noticed that picture of Greenwich Village Follies."
How many fellas told themselves and their "girlfriends" that tall tale? I shudder to think.
The statement was most likely later followed by hushed conversation over the basement phone to the Gate Theater to see if tickets were available for the coming Friday night.
There was a weird resurgence in Art Deco (referenced again later in this issue) during the late 70's and early 80's. Offering some good and some bad repercussions. Good: practical use of neon and lucite in design, attractive sportcoats, large-scale pattern motifs. Bad: Taco's "Puttin' on the Ritz," mixing too much coral and turquoise within singular designs, the design elements that informed "The Max," the soda shop where the kids from Bayside High would hang out.
This ad screams one idea loud and clear: Disco 76 has NO LADIES NIGHT. You have your choice of two types of guy that hangs out there: skinny pale guy in a tux, and skinny pale guy in a tux with a 'stache. 'Twas the 70's, that much you can be sure of.
Subtle.
The above-mentioned "From Peppermint to Poppers" story. I didn't reprint in full readable quality because... well, why? However I should mention that the story does reference a "soon-to-open club" downtown called Studio 54. My guess is that nothing will come of the place. The accompanying page photo:
And you thought Dirk Diggler was a fictional character. Yet there he is in his booty-shaking glory. I know it's sweat, but the fact that he looks like he mega-wet his pants... kind of a turnoff, actually. I mean some people might find it hot, but... um, no.
Paragons of disco. All aboard the airship BeeGee!
And Isaac Hayes, no matter what your kooky religion tells you to do, in my mind you will always be this scary outer space genie.
Anyone care to guess who the guy on the bottom right is?
Yeah, me either.
What do we have here? Some supergroup comprised of members of The Time and Kid Creole and the Coconuts? Nope. Although the guys on the right both kind of weirdly look like Morris Day. No, what we have here is Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band. Apparently they were hot for about a month in 1976 with a little ditty called Cherchez la Femme. You think I'm joking? Thankfully YouTube will vindicate me.
There's one you never hear on the Jack-Bob-Fred "we play anything" radio formats. Wonder why? Probably because it sucks. They were truly the Cherry Poppin' Daddies of the 70's. (That isn't a compliment.)
And now the answer to the eternal question: are there tan lines in space?
Evidently, yes.
Obviously, this is two pictures haphazardly stuck together. On the left we have what Ursine Historians will come to refer to as a proto-Bear Run. If you don't know what that means, then you probably don't want to look it up. On the right we have what you normally only see once a year on a "pride" parade float in any medium-to-large American city. My question whenever I see anything like this: Did the guy BRING this outfit to the club, or did he WEAR it to the club? Also, where are his car keys? I just assume there must be keys, because I highly doubt he took public transportation in that outfit. Although, it IS New York. Here in Austin, they like to keep it just as weird.
But who was making the music that these sweaty spacemen were shaking their "what-what's" to?
How about a fierce looking Chaka Kahn:
Tell me something good? Okay, how about this: A film vehicle for Chaka Kahn and Pam Grier. They're two sexy assassins who stumble on a sex-slaves-for-cocaine ring. And they bust it up by unleashing a funk-splosion of pain on "the man"? I would SO watch this movie.
So remember above when I mentioned that the 70's had that return to Art Deco 20's opulent design?
Well, meet designer Charles Burke:
Charles was pretty edgy with his retro-futuristic designs. Evoking the 20's with a little 60's mod and Chrome-ified "House of the Future" action. Actually reasonably cool in a very ironic sort of way. But his work as a designer who works well with light (not to be confused with noted lunatic and "painter of light" Thomas Kinkade) got him some pretty fab acclaim back in the day.
Why he even got to hang with noted celebrities:
In case you missed, I noted where Charles Burke was rubbing elbows with the pre-Knight Rider Hoff.
Above that, my fellow nerds will recognize the light communicator-thing from Logan's Run. Although it's in like 30 seconds of the movie.
Amazingly, Burke's style mellowed a bit, and he's still designing. In fact, he was recently featured in Connecticut Cottages & Gardens. A far cry from After Dark, to be sure.
Now more fashion! Or should I say "fashion":
"Does this quilted pantsuit make me look gay?"
"No, of course not. Maybe the tambourine you're carrying does, though."
If you've ever heard the term "gay face," you now have a prime example.
Seriously, what the hell is even happening here? Was there ever actually a prevailing belief that there would ever be a "jumpsuit chic" movement?
Really? REALLY!?!
But wait...
We see here gayface in a velour... um robe-suit-type-thing. With a white silk cravat, lest you think this isn't dressy enough, accompanying a Debbie Harry wannabe wearing a garbage bag and, inexplicably, pantyhose with open-toe shoes.
Also whatever happened to the eyewear fashion movement that said sunglasses of the future would be made from silver casts of leprechaun protective cups?
I guess this harkens back to the earlier Logan's Run reference, where people of the fashionista-70's were preparing to wear jumpsuits and live in a mall. To an extent, that is sort of what happened.
Think the ironic t-shirt was the domain of the internet-ordering90's, er 00's?
Oh, no, kids.
From left to right, in case you can't read it:
Spank you very much
Empire Diner
SCAT (um... ew. -ed.)
All That Jazz
Gotta Sing Gotta Dance
Our Feature is Full Length and Uncut
Baby Beef Cakes
Basic Training
If someone, ANYONE, approaches you in a bar with a "SCAT" t-shirt on - unless you hear them saying "skib-illy-hoob-illy-doob-illy-bop!" - run like hell.
Who wears short shorts? Even these guys seem surprised as to how scandalously tight their shorts are. Seriously. It looks like their crotches were vacuum packed for freshness. Ironically, wearing them all night at a smoky dance bar, it will be ANYTHING but fresh in there.
When you think of the 70's, what new age conceits come to mind? Pyramid Power? sure. EST? yeah, that too. But let's not forget about the all-important Amulet/Talisman. Something to dangle among your chest pubes and show how deep you are. That Egyptian scarab says something about you: It says you wore a jacket without a shirt and your pants are coming off. The 1970's were not known for their subtelty.
So it's the post-sexual revolution 70's. Post Stonewall, etc., and men are starting to cut loose the 50's short hair and tie to the office mentality. And of course some of them are getting their ear pierced. Like tattoos and sleeveless t-shirts, the number of men who wear this look is disproportionately larger than the number of men who can pull off this look. For those who really want to "gay-up" their ear jewelry, there's these casts of people that you will have to explain who they are to whoever gets close enough/drunk enough/is stupid enough to ask.
Now THAT'S what I call an amulet (or talisMAN - wokka wokka). It's a guy pointing to his junk. Hilarious. Again, the subtlety of the 70's.
And dare you wear a man-thong? Most should not.I implore you, MOST. SHOULD. NOT.
Oh, you think Borat came up with the over-the-shoulder-thong chic? No-no, my dear readers. That "sex-sational" look has been around for a regrettably long time. I'm glad they found a guy with all the sex appeal of John Stossel to model them. Gah.
Remember the ad in the last After Dark for the Poop Deck? AMAZINGLY, nobody let them in on the joke and it was still open in '76, "catering" to a very unspecific "lifestyle" - which apparently has something to do with two guys staring intently at their own handshake on the beach.
A blogger people actually read (Joe.My.God) did a piece on the Marlin Beach Hotel that you should read here. Brill, as usual.
Looks like the building is still sort of there, although whatever it is now... hard to say.
International Male, purveyors of the poet shirt, a plethora of banana hammocks, and sporting the same photo of the swarthy "hot" guy in leather pants standing next to his motorcycle that they've been running for like 25 years. Oh yes, they were in business in '76, and business was good. It's nice to know that while gay hustler clothes may have changed (um... sort of) over time, at least the gay hustler clothiers have not.
In fairness, International Male has tried to update their image, and in retail business circles they made a pretty public gambit to bring fashion conscious straight guys back into the fold, but without seeing their numbers I'm going to guess it was with limited success. I'm still scratching my head why these guys didn't title sponsor Queer Eye. That could've done the trick. Hey, IM, if you're hiring a marketing guy call me!
What does a pair of Gainsborough's Blue Boy cufflinks say about you? That you appreciate irony?
There's so many ways to be a fancy lad here, I shudder to think. Somewhere in Minneapolis an entrepreneur said, "What's something I can market that is recognizable but nobody owns the copyright to?" while he was flipping through a coffee table "Introduction to Museum Art" book, and BINGO! This great idea was born.
(Not affiliated with blueboy magazine.) Which is pretty much exactly what you think it is. Gotta love old-timey disclaimers.
Finally, we've almost reached the end. And it's a doozy:
Edible Underwear.
Ed-i-ble-un-der-wear. Does any part of this even make sense?
Oh sure, it inspired one of my favorite songs:
(Which is available on iTunes, where I bought my own copy.)
But why would you wear a fruit roll up on a part of your body that is NOTORIOUS for heat generation? I'm all for fetish-ey behavior, and kinks and the whole nine yards, but with these how do you not just end up with "pants full o' jelly"? Even if you do just put these on for some bedroom fun time, wouldn't one ill-timed Dutch Oven ruin the moment (and more importantly the flavor) for every one involved? I'm gonna say yes.
And yes, penis pillows are a great novelty, but where do you put them the other REST OF YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU'RE NOT AT A BRIDAL SHOWER?
Oh and that big black man is, in fact, wearing a full body fishnet Freddy Mercury unitard-thing. And you can totally see his junk. I'm not sure what the practical applications are for this look, but feel free to postulate in the comments section below.
There you go, kids. A HUGE-NORMOUS post from After Dark. Again, sorry it took me so long, but I put this together in my free time over a couple weeks. So worth it, don't you think?
Me either.
Oh well, leave some love in the comments and I promise a shorter, more concise, and possibly even funny post next time.
Huzzah.
On to matters at hand. As promised, here's the second installment in my After Dark series. You can read part one at this link or just scroll down, which would probably be easier. That'll give you all the background you need. If you're just too damned lazy to click or scroll, here's the elevator version: Trolling the North Loop vintage shops I found this stack of hilarious old mid-70's "New York Lifestyle" magazines for men. Which is obviously code for Mag-GAY-zine. I bought a few so I could scan 'em, snark 'em, and provide fodder for my rarely-brilliant, even-more-rarely-read interspace on the webbertube. Let's go!
The time: November 1976
The city: New York
The magazine: After Dark: The National Magazine of Entertainment
The event: DISCO FEVER!
For whatever reason, Editor Bill Como thought that the perfect accompanying graphic to their Disco Fever issue would be Broadway superstar (?) Chita Rivera in full "Cabaret" drag. What do these things have to do with one another, you may ask? Well, so far as I could gather from the issue... nothing. See for yourself:
Those eyelashes! The backlighting! The pancake makeup! Folks, this is the pre-Photoshop world right here. In the era before Photoshop Disasters, there were just plain old in-studio disasters. Run of the mill, but seem strangely refreshing in this over-polished age we live in now.
But if it's the Disco Fever issue, then where's the "dancing dudes?" Oh... right here:
I'm torn on the hotly contentious issue of Disco Fever. I musically came of age in the Disco-backlash 80's. When wearing bellbottoms and shaking one's "groove thing" was considered horribly passé, but tight-rolling one's Z Cavaricci jeans and teasing out one's hair to the New-Ro strains of Adam Ant was acceptable. That said, there are certain elements of disco that I can appreciate: Complex instrumentation, traditional musicianship, danceable beats. But my early memories of "cool" are Dr. Jonny Fever declaring that disco sucked and cranking some Pink Floyd. Isn't there room enough in the world for both? And have things really changed all that much? Can I not have my Andrew W.K. and my Jamiroquai together?
But a better question may be, in regards to the above photo, where did the defined gentleman above keep his keys, and did he take maracas with him wherever he went, or just to the club?
"I just get After Dark to read about great stage and screen artists like Agnes Moorehead... I honestly hadn't even noticed that picture of Greenwich Village Follies."
How many fellas told themselves and their "girlfriends" that tall tale? I shudder to think.
The statement was most likely later followed by hushed conversation over the basement phone to the Gate Theater to see if tickets were available for the coming Friday night.
There was a weird resurgence in Art Deco (referenced again later in this issue) during the late 70's and early 80's. Offering some good and some bad repercussions. Good: practical use of neon and lucite in design, attractive sportcoats, large-scale pattern motifs. Bad: Taco's "Puttin' on the Ritz," mixing too much coral and turquoise within singular designs, the design elements that informed "The Max," the soda shop where the kids from Bayside High would hang out.
This ad screams one idea loud and clear: Disco 76 has NO LADIES NIGHT. You have your choice of two types of guy that hangs out there: skinny pale guy in a tux, and skinny pale guy in a tux with a 'stache. 'Twas the 70's, that much you can be sure of.
Subtle.
The above-mentioned "From Peppermint to Poppers" story. I didn't reprint in full readable quality because... well, why? However I should mention that the story does reference a "soon-to-open club" downtown called Studio 54. My guess is that nothing will come of the place. The accompanying page photo:
And you thought Dirk Diggler was a fictional character. Yet there he is in his booty-shaking glory. I know it's sweat, but the fact that he looks like he mega-wet his pants... kind of a turnoff, actually. I mean some people might find it hot, but... um, no.
Paragons of disco. All aboard the airship BeeGee!
And Isaac Hayes, no matter what your kooky religion tells you to do, in my mind you will always be this scary outer space genie.
Anyone care to guess who the guy on the bottom right is?
Yeah, me either.
What do we have here? Some supergroup comprised of members of The Time and Kid Creole and the Coconuts? Nope. Although the guys on the right both kind of weirdly look like Morris Day. No, what we have here is Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band. Apparently they were hot for about a month in 1976 with a little ditty called Cherchez la Femme. You think I'm joking? Thankfully YouTube will vindicate me.
There's one you never hear on the Jack-Bob-Fred "we play anything" radio formats. Wonder why? Probably because it sucks. They were truly the Cherry Poppin' Daddies of the 70's. (That isn't a compliment.)
And now the answer to the eternal question: are there tan lines in space?
Evidently, yes.
Obviously, this is two pictures haphazardly stuck together. On the left we have what Ursine Historians will come to refer to as a proto-Bear Run. If you don't know what that means, then you probably don't want to look it up. On the right we have what you normally only see once a year on a "pride" parade float in any medium-to-large American city. My question whenever I see anything like this: Did the guy BRING this outfit to the club, or did he WEAR it to the club? Also, where are his car keys? I just assume there must be keys, because I highly doubt he took public transportation in that outfit. Although, it IS New York. Here in Austin, they like to keep it just as weird.
But who was making the music that these sweaty spacemen were shaking their "what-what's" to?
How about a fierce looking Chaka Kahn:
Tell me something good? Okay, how about this: A film vehicle for Chaka Kahn and Pam Grier. They're two sexy assassins who stumble on a sex-slaves-for-cocaine ring. And they bust it up by unleashing a funk-splosion of pain on "the man"? I would SO watch this movie.
So remember above when I mentioned that the 70's had that return to Art Deco 20's opulent design?
Well, meet designer Charles Burke:
Charles was pretty edgy with his retro-futuristic designs. Evoking the 20's with a little 60's mod and Chrome-ified "House of the Future" action. Actually reasonably cool in a very ironic sort of way. But his work as a designer who works well with light (not to be confused with noted lunatic and "painter of light" Thomas Kinkade) got him some pretty fab acclaim back in the day.
Why he even got to hang with noted celebrities:
In case you missed, I noted where Charles Burke was rubbing elbows with the pre-Knight Rider Hoff.
Above that, my fellow nerds will recognize the light communicator-thing from Logan's Run. Although it's in like 30 seconds of the movie.
Amazingly, Burke's style mellowed a bit, and he's still designing. In fact, he was recently featured in Connecticut Cottages & Gardens. A far cry from After Dark, to be sure.
Now more fashion! Or should I say "fashion":
"Does this quilted pantsuit make me look gay?"
"No, of course not. Maybe the tambourine you're carrying does, though."
If you've ever heard the term "gay face," you now have a prime example.
Seriously, what the hell is even happening here? Was there ever actually a prevailing belief that there would ever be a "jumpsuit chic" movement?
Really? REALLY!?!
But wait...
We see here gayface in a velour... um robe-suit-type-thing. With a white silk cravat, lest you think this isn't dressy enough, accompanying a Debbie Harry wannabe wearing a garbage bag and, inexplicably, pantyhose with open-toe shoes.
Also whatever happened to the eyewear fashion movement that said sunglasses of the future would be made from silver casts of leprechaun protective cups?
I guess this harkens back to the earlier Logan's Run reference, where people of the fashionista-70's were preparing to wear jumpsuits and live in a mall. To an extent, that is sort of what happened.
Think the ironic t-shirt was the domain of the internet-ordering
Oh, no, kids.
From left to right, in case you can't read it:
Spank you very much
Empire Diner
SCAT (um... ew. -ed.)
All That Jazz
Gotta Sing Gotta Dance
Our Feature is Full Length and Uncut
Baby Beef Cakes
Basic Training
If someone, ANYONE, approaches you in a bar with a "SCAT" t-shirt on - unless you hear them saying "skib-illy-hoob-illy-doob-illy-bop!" - run like hell.
Who wears short shorts? Even these guys seem surprised as to how scandalously tight their shorts are. Seriously. It looks like their crotches were vacuum packed for freshness. Ironically, wearing them all night at a smoky dance bar, it will be ANYTHING but fresh in there.
When you think of the 70's, what new age conceits come to mind? Pyramid Power? sure. EST? yeah, that too. But let's not forget about the all-important Amulet/Talisman. Something to dangle among your chest pubes and show how deep you are. That Egyptian scarab says something about you: It says you wore a jacket without a shirt and your pants are coming off. The 1970's were not known for their subtelty.
So it's the post-sexual revolution 70's. Post Stonewall, etc., and men are starting to cut loose the 50's short hair and tie to the office mentality. And of course some of them are getting their ear pierced. Like tattoos and sleeveless t-shirts, the number of men who wear this look is disproportionately larger than the number of men who can pull off this look. For those who really want to "gay-up" their ear jewelry, there's these casts of people that you will have to explain who they are to whoever gets close enough/drunk enough/is stupid enough to ask.
Now THAT'S what I call an amulet (or talisMAN - wokka wokka). It's a guy pointing to his junk. Hilarious. Again, the subtlety of the 70's.
And dare you wear a man-thong? Most should not.I implore you, MOST. SHOULD. NOT.
Oh, you think Borat came up with the over-the-shoulder-thong chic? No-no, my dear readers. That "sex-sational" look has been around for a regrettably long time. I'm glad they found a guy with all the sex appeal of John Stossel to model them. Gah.
Remember the ad in the last After Dark for the Poop Deck? AMAZINGLY, nobody let them in on the joke and it was still open in '76, "catering" to a very unspecific "lifestyle" - which apparently has something to do with two guys staring intently at their own handshake on the beach.
A blogger people actually read (Joe.My.God) did a piece on the Marlin Beach Hotel that you should read here. Brill, as usual.
Looks like the building is still sort of there, although whatever it is now... hard to say.
International Male, purveyors of the poet shirt, a plethora of banana hammocks, and sporting the same photo of the swarthy "hot" guy in leather pants standing next to his motorcycle that they've been running for like 25 years. Oh yes, they were in business in '76, and business was good. It's nice to know that while gay hustler clothes may have changed (um... sort of) over time, at least the gay hustler clothiers have not.
In fairness, International Male has tried to update their image, and in retail business circles they made a pretty public gambit to bring fashion conscious straight guys back into the fold, but without seeing their numbers I'm going to guess it was with limited success. I'm still scratching my head why these guys didn't title sponsor Queer Eye. That could've done the trick. Hey, IM, if you're hiring a marketing guy call me!
What does a pair of Gainsborough's Blue Boy cufflinks say about you? That you appreciate irony?
There's so many ways to be a fancy lad here, I shudder to think. Somewhere in Minneapolis an entrepreneur said, "What's something I can market that is recognizable but nobody owns the copyright to?" while he was flipping through a coffee table "Introduction to Museum Art" book, and BINGO! This great idea was born.
(Not affiliated with blueboy magazine.) Which is pretty much exactly what you think it is. Gotta love old-timey disclaimers.
Finally, we've almost reached the end. And it's a doozy:
Edible Underwear.
Ed-i-ble-un-der-wear. Does any part of this even make sense?
Oh sure, it inspired one of my favorite songs:
(Which is available on iTunes, where I bought my own copy.)
But why would you wear a fruit roll up on a part of your body that is NOTORIOUS for heat generation? I'm all for fetish-ey behavior, and kinks and the whole nine yards, but with these how do you not just end up with "pants full o' jelly"? Even if you do just put these on for some bedroom fun time, wouldn't one ill-timed Dutch Oven ruin the moment (and more importantly the flavor) for every one involved? I'm gonna say yes.
And yes, penis pillows are a great novelty, but where do you put them the other REST OF YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU'RE NOT AT A BRIDAL SHOWER?
Oh and that big black man is, in fact, wearing a full body fishnet Freddy Mercury unitard-thing. And you can totally see his junk. I'm not sure what the practical applications are for this look, but feel free to postulate in the comments section below.
There you go, kids. A HUGE-NORMOUS post from After Dark. Again, sorry it took me so long, but I put this together in my free time over a couple weeks. So worth it, don't you think?
Me either.
Oh well, leave some love in the comments and I promise a shorter, more concise, and possibly even funny post next time.
Huzzah.
|
Out of Print: After Dark pt.1
Perusing the skanky old publications dotting the
charmingly retro coffee tables in the vintage shops
in the North Loop area of Austin, I happened upon a
stack of After Dark magazines in alarmingly good
shape. Apart from some page yellowing they were in
pristine condition. I wasn't familiar with After
Dark, save for the Berkeley screen saver software of
the Macs of my youth. This After Dark, no relation,
appeared at first blush to be a standard New Yorkey
playbill-esque pub, filled with bio pieces on
Broadway performers you've never heard of and ads for
New York nightlife. Save for a couple differences:
The ads were targeted exclusively to men (men's wear,
men's health, a plethora of porn-stache) and all of
the content was driven almost exclusively by campy
chanteuses recalling their wild times trotting the
boards (seriously, there was a three-page spread on
Hermione Gingold, who you may remember as Eulalie
Mackechnie Shinn from The Music Man), tasteful
semi-nudes of scrawny 70's guys, and some photo
essays of rough trade. Despite the fact that I'm
not 11 years old, I actually thought to myself
"O-M-G, I've stumbled upon a veritable treasure
trove of classic gay mag-tacularity!"
And so I had. I hastily purchased three of them, at a seemingly steep $7 each, and set home to warm up my scanner.
I'll be doling this out in pieces so as to not spoil all the fun at once. Here are selections from After Dark May 1975. A seven month old me was at home, presumably in my crib, while all these wild goings on were... uh, going on. I give you, the cover:
Nobody wants to be the rude one who says, "Um dude, your balls are showing." On the cover of a national publication no less. I'm not sure who the cover character is, but I flipped through enough of the article to know that he was in a production of some high-minded Greek tragedy off-Broadway production where presumably most of the cast wandered around with their balls showing. Even the ladies.
The mag didn't have the cash to go color throughout, so it's a mostly b&w affair. But that detracts in no way whatsoever from the awesomeness of it. If anything it adds.
And speaking of ads, are you looking for the right swimwear to wrap around your "bobby-dazzler"?
Well you're in luck:
Already with the pornstache staring at you. This is magnificent: You have all three types of 70's guy on here. There's the pre-muscle beach boy, the scrawn-fit fella (with and without chest pelt) and then hair helmet McMacho. How important is his hair? Um, it's a 1/3 page ad for conditioner, for crissakes. A lot! He cares about his hair a lot, okay? Don't judge.
This man owned a mustache comb, I guarantee it.
And if you didn't have your own hair:
Okay, lots happening here, so let's dig in. The "Headhugger" should not be confused with the "facehugger," which are the small aliens from Alien that latch onto your face and plant alien eggs in your guts. Although I think that option was available with these toupees. Also it shouldn't be confused with "treehugger," which is a pachouli scented hippie that latches onto your face and plants hair-brained schemes into your mind.
Are you a fan of cinema? Well you're in luck, because The Adonis is the Premiere Showplace of the Nation. How do I know their movies are good? Well, their logo has a boner, that's your first clue.
Gay porn titles have never been subtle, but at least back in the day they were whimsical. Spread Eagles? Wasn't that with Louis Gossett Jr.? (no.) Boys of the Slums, wasn't that Spike Lee? (no.) And what pray tell goes on in their exotic Grecian Lounge? If I have to tell you then you won't understand anyway.
Time for more pornstache!
Wow? Yanni? The guy who sings about Baby Beluga, the caviar all the kids love? (no.) This is another Greek thing. Yianni is, no kidding, the Greek version of the name John. Still, you kinda wonder what's going on under his hat, don't you? Pervert!
Hungry?
When in New York be sure to enjoy the tableside antics of the chefs at Banihana. They would love to make the same ancient jokes you just heard at the other table a minute ago. And when in Denver, be sure to be menaced by a dark eyed stranger with a super pornstache at The Broadway.
So remember, the Benihana in New York, The Broadway... in Denver. What the hell?
What's happening at Gypsy's?
Um, I don't know. Apparently NY mayor Mike Bloomberg in a a Pee Wee Herman haircut will try to tango with you. Gah!
But what's New York without taking in a musical?
Nice. Classy. In the words of its creator, Earl Wilson Jr.: "it is a musical revue about SEX... with some nudity and a lot of X-rated language. It was nominated for a Grammy in 1974 and has appeared all over the world. It is a really fun show that takes the attitude that everyone loves sex... when they are honest enough to admit it... and that we'd probably all be a lot better off if we were less uptight about it".
I sort of agree, I guess. But still, it's a little tacky.
Think it's just modern douchebag fratboys with puka shell necklaces? Don't be fooled.
On the same note, do you think Dov Charney's American Apparel is blazing any trails with its pervy gold lamé outerwear? I'm afraid not. The His Midas from Ah Men shows that with a chest pelt and stuffing your junk in a gold bag, confused heroin-chic ladies will lean on you for support.
Nothing new under the sun, I guess.
I scanned these pages a while ago and don't remember what I was going to say about all of them. But I would hasten a guess that it's about The Kokpit, which is by all accounts, THEE FUN BAR. Got that, Sweet Lips?
Ay ay ay.
Or would you prefer a bar that's named something even more "on the nose"?
Yep. The Poop Deck.
And what do you do with the Poop Deck? You rinse it off, spray some Lysol in the room, maybe light a candle, and keep going.
Oh, Fashion Section! I hope there's a naked guy in a Horatio Hornblower hat!
With cowboy boots to match. What I really admire about this guy is how he kept it classy and kept the legs together. Because once those things open up, "flop" on the ground. Then the magazine gets a brown wrapper, dig?
Everything that is good and bad about Godspell in one picture:
This photo wants so badly to be sexy, but it cannot be. It just cannot be. (BTW, it's not actually from Godspell. But you drama class nerds already new that.)
The Black Crowes called, they want their fancy tour outfit back:
Kind of a fantastic suit, actually. I wouldn't recommend wearing it to a funeral.
Well, maybe a clown funeral.
Ready for that giant Disco Sound?
Both of these ads are fantastic. I want to go back in time just so I can find out what the hell "The New! Sound Sound Machine" is. Is that the name of the bar? Or is the bar Giant Disco Sound? What's happening? Why is this ad yelling at me?!?
And then "How's this body for openers?" Um, the body is okay. The face, however, is a young Jay North from Dennis the Menace meets a scary albino. It's called cropping, people. And it was done, even back in the 70's.
There's a lot going on here, but it's all so worth it:
I won't even comment. Just enjoy it all for yourself. "For Sensualists" "The Ultimate Man and Woman" "Jungle Fever"
It's all so good.
And Beach Boy of New York is the only guy with some meat on him in the whole magazine. A sign of things to come (no pun necessary).
Oh Boy! Turquoise Jewelry!
Sexy? Scary? Both?
This was a 2-page ad pushing the very popular silver and turquoise look of the mid-70's.
And it somehow morphed into a punchline for an SNL sketch:
That's it for issue one. I'm considering
re-selling these elsewhere on docmarvy.com just for
the novelty of it, and to recoup my losses. Good
idea? No?
Eh.
Stay tuned for issue two of more old school, porn-stachity fun from After Dark, coming soon!
Leave some love and ruminations in the comments!
Huzzah!
And so I had. I hastily purchased three of them, at a seemingly steep $7 each, and set home to warm up my scanner.
I'll be doling this out in pieces so as to not spoil all the fun at once. Here are selections from After Dark May 1975. A seven month old me was at home, presumably in my crib, while all these wild goings on were... uh, going on. I give you, the cover:
Nobody wants to be the rude one who says, "Um dude, your balls are showing." On the cover of a national publication no less. I'm not sure who the cover character is, but I flipped through enough of the article to know that he was in a production of some high-minded Greek tragedy off-Broadway production where presumably most of the cast wandered around with their balls showing. Even the ladies.
The mag didn't have the cash to go color throughout, so it's a mostly b&w affair. But that detracts in no way whatsoever from the awesomeness of it. If anything it adds.
And speaking of ads, are you looking for the right swimwear to wrap around your "bobby-dazzler"?
Well you're in luck:
Already with the pornstache staring at you. This is magnificent: You have all three types of 70's guy on here. There's the pre-muscle beach boy, the scrawn-fit fella (with and without chest pelt) and then hair helmet McMacho. How important is his hair? Um, it's a 1/3 page ad for conditioner, for crissakes. A lot! He cares about his hair a lot, okay? Don't judge.
This man owned a mustache comb, I guarantee it.
And if you didn't have your own hair:
Okay, lots happening here, so let's dig in. The "Headhugger" should not be confused with the "facehugger," which are the small aliens from Alien that latch onto your face and plant alien eggs in your guts. Although I think that option was available with these toupees. Also it shouldn't be confused with "treehugger," which is a pachouli scented hippie that latches onto your face and plants hair-brained schemes into your mind.
Are you a fan of cinema? Well you're in luck, because The Adonis is the Premiere Showplace of the Nation. How do I know their movies are good? Well, their logo has a boner, that's your first clue.
Gay porn titles have never been subtle, but at least back in the day they were whimsical. Spread Eagles? Wasn't that with Louis Gossett Jr.? (no.) Boys of the Slums, wasn't that Spike Lee? (no.) And what pray tell goes on in their exotic Grecian Lounge? If I have to tell you then you won't understand anyway.
Time for more pornstache!
Wow? Yanni? The guy who sings about Baby Beluga, the caviar all the kids love? (no.) This is another Greek thing. Yianni is, no kidding, the Greek version of the name John. Still, you kinda wonder what's going on under his hat, don't you? Pervert!
Hungry?
When in New York be sure to enjoy the tableside antics of the chefs at Banihana. They would love to make the same ancient jokes you just heard at the other table a minute ago. And when in Denver, be sure to be menaced by a dark eyed stranger with a super pornstache at The Broadway.
So remember, the Benihana in New York, The Broadway... in Denver. What the hell?
What's happening at Gypsy's?
Um, I don't know. Apparently NY mayor Mike Bloomberg in a a Pee Wee Herman haircut will try to tango with you. Gah!
But what's New York without taking in a musical?
Nice. Classy. In the words of its creator, Earl Wilson Jr.: "it is a musical revue about SEX... with some nudity and a lot of X-rated language. It was nominated for a Grammy in 1974 and has appeared all over the world. It is a really fun show that takes the attitude that everyone loves sex... when they are honest enough to admit it... and that we'd probably all be a lot better off if we were less uptight about it".
I sort of agree, I guess. But still, it's a little tacky.
Think it's just modern douchebag fratboys with puka shell necklaces? Don't be fooled.
On the same note, do you think Dov Charney's American Apparel is blazing any trails with its pervy gold lamé outerwear? I'm afraid not. The His Midas from Ah Men shows that with a chest pelt and stuffing your junk in a gold bag, confused heroin-chic ladies will lean on you for support.
Nothing new under the sun, I guess.
I scanned these pages a while ago and don't remember what I was going to say about all of them. But I would hasten a guess that it's about The Kokpit, which is by all accounts, THEE FUN BAR. Got that, Sweet Lips?
Ay ay ay.
Or would you prefer a bar that's named something even more "on the nose"?
Yep. The Poop Deck.
And what do you do with the Poop Deck? You rinse it off, spray some Lysol in the room, maybe light a candle, and keep going.
Oh, Fashion Section! I hope there's a naked guy in a Horatio Hornblower hat!
With cowboy boots to match. What I really admire about this guy is how he kept it classy and kept the legs together. Because once those things open up, "flop" on the ground. Then the magazine gets a brown wrapper, dig?
Everything that is good and bad about Godspell in one picture:
This photo wants so badly to be sexy, but it cannot be. It just cannot be. (BTW, it's not actually from Godspell. But you drama class nerds already new that.)
The Black Crowes called, they want their fancy tour outfit back:
Kind of a fantastic suit, actually. I wouldn't recommend wearing it to a funeral.
Well, maybe a clown funeral.
Ready for that giant Disco Sound?
Both of these ads are fantastic. I want to go back in time just so I can find out what the hell "The New! Sound Sound Machine" is. Is that the name of the bar? Or is the bar Giant Disco Sound? What's happening? Why is this ad yelling at me?!?
And then "How's this body for openers?" Um, the body is okay. The face, however, is a young Jay North from Dennis the Menace meets a scary albino. It's called cropping, people. And it was done, even back in the 70's.
There's a lot going on here, but it's all so worth it:
I won't even comment. Just enjoy it all for yourself. "For Sensualists" "The Ultimate Man and Woman" "Jungle Fever"
It's all so good.
And Beach Boy of New York is the only guy with some meat on him in the whole magazine. A sign of things to come (no pun necessary).
Oh Boy! Turquoise Jewelry!
Sexy? Scary? Both?
This was a 2-page ad pushing the very popular silver and turquoise look of the mid-70's.
And it somehow morphed into a punchline for an SNL sketch:
|
|
|
Eh.
Stay tuned for issue two of more old school, porn-stachity fun from After Dark, coming soon!
Leave some love and ruminations in the comments!
Huzzah!
How friendly is Texas?
Okay, so this is the last lazy YouTube post I'll put
up for a while, pinky swear.
However, you really have to wonder what these boys are going to do when they get to the Chicken Ranch. Looks like they're having a high-ol' time just a-rompin' and a-stompin' around the locker room by themselves. Ahem, uh.... yeah.
So, uh... yeah. Wow.
Yee-haw?
However, you really have to wonder what these boys are going to do when they get to the Chicken Ranch. Looks like they're having a high-ol' time just a-rompin' and a-stompin' around the locker room by themselves. Ahem, uh.... yeah.
So, uh... yeah. Wow.
Yee-haw?