Miss Marianne Faithfull:

Miss Marianne Faithfull:
(Born December 29, 1946) Songs she inspired: She Smiled Sweetly, Let's Spend The Night Together, She's Like A Rainbow, You Can't Always Get What You Want, Wild Horses, I Got The Blues, 100 Years Ago, Winter

Miss Anita Pallenberg:

Miss Anita Pallenberg:
(Born April 6, 1942) Songs she inspired: You Got The Silver, Sister Morphine (words by Marianne), Wild Horses, Coming Down Again, Angie, Beast Of Burden, All About You
Showing posts with label Jayne Mansfield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jayne Mansfield. Show all posts

Sunday, June 21, 2009

The Girl Can't Help It

Jayne Mansfield was born in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania on April 19, 1933. Best known for her shocking blonde hair and outerspace-awesome curves, Jayne was Playboy magazine's Playmate Of The Month in February 1955 and starred in such films as The Girl Can't Help It, The Burglar, and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? Her best acting (most critics dismissed her skills because of her vapid, "dumb blonde" roles, a la Marilyn Monroe) is generally considered to be in the film The Wayward Bus. Although she was quite a popular Hollywood celebrity, good roles began to disappear after 1959, and even 1957's Kiss Them For Me, in which she starred opposite Carey Grant, was a major box office disappointment.

In 1962, she had a bit of a comeback in popularity when she became the first mainstream American actress to go nude in the film Promises! Promises! Many of the on-set photographs were published in Playboy, and Hugh Hefner got an obscenity charge. Although this movie landed Jayne on the Top Ten Box Office Attractions of 1963, she longed to be seen as a more serious actress and play substantial parts. This of course never came to fruition, the double-edged sword of being so remarkably sexy. It was her blonde bombshell image that made her famous in the first place, and the reason her career was completely limited.

The irony was that Jayne Mansfield was indeed not dumb (or even a real blonde) at all. She was known for having a very high IQ, and was a classically trained pianist and violinist who could speak five languages. The public, Jayne admitted, couldn't care any less about those things, their interest only in her measurements, which according to Playboy were 40D-21-36 and her height was 5'6". Her breasts, too, were the subject of much media attention. She was constantly spilling out of dresses, which accounts for the famous photo of Sophia Loren casting what looks to be a disapproving eye at Jayne at a dinner party, as she smiles sweetly and her boobies look like they're about to fall out of her dress and sit on the table. To that I must say: Jealous much? Jayne allegedly had affairs with men from JFK to Anton LaVey (leader of the Church of Satan), and was married three times and had five children. She died, tragically and instantly, in a car crash en route to New Orleans on June 29, 1967. She was 34 years old.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Tits and ass with soul, baby




So, being the relatively young lass that I am and growing up not only in our media-saturated US of A but also in an affluent, image-obsessed town, I learned at an early age to appreciate the art of THE SKINNY GIRL; her long lines and peek of ribcage when she yawns, the bones in her back moving as she dances--the notion that there's something delicate about her, something breakable. Such vulnerability is difficult to deny, and I don't know about you, but I think vulnerability is kind of hot. So believe me, I get it. I get the appeal of that anorexic, hollow-eyed, underfed, cutglass cheekbones type of look. For many years (and sometimes now) I experience the wish that I was one of those girls, a model posing for Vogue, body bent forward to achieve some impossibly angular physique, a girl you look at and marvel how a person can be quite so weightless, so nobby kneed and fat-less thighed (and then how she can look like that when the camera supposedly adds ten pounds). It's very glamorous to be tall and gaunt. Clothes hang on you like they were designed to. You have a definite "one up" on the majority of the population, a superiority to those who blubber and smear grease all over their faces every meal, fat hanging off their jeans. Being skinny, I'd imagine, is pretty cool.

But as enchanted as I often am by the pages of fashion magazines or clips of runway shows on TV, having T&A is something I love and celebrate. The older I get and the more men I meet, I understand that my teenage thinking was faulty for one glaring reason: Being curvy is fucking HOT. If I was a man (and I often try to think like one just for shits and giggles), I think I'd much rather be grabbing the milky thighs of some bombshell rather than bruising myself on a hipbone. Granted, there's a fine line between being deliciously ripe and being rather fat and dumpy, but the women who fit in the former category--well, there's nothing like 'em. And I think that most guys probably agree. So, why not celebrate the godesses who defined the notion of 'sex appeal', whose angelic faces and traffic-stopping figures are never out of style? It's no surprise that the iconic images of Marilyn Monroe remain an international sensation, or that porno magazines that 12 year old boys steal from their daddy's drawer are always of busty babes with curves to spare, or that on the arm of the Jaggers and Tylers is usually a luscious, leggy pin up.

The sexual allure of a woman, you would think, would be that she is unlike a man--she curves in at the waist and out at the hips and has boobies and that ever sought after triangle of lust between her thighs. She's softer, rounder, and more delicate (smaller boned). That's the way the good Lord made some of us, and I'm over feeling badly about it. Luckily there are images like the ones above (of goddess Jayne Mansfield) to make a girl proud of her T&A. After all, even darling Keith just wanted his little rock n' roll, his tits and ass with soul...

In the words of Axl Rose, "Yowza".