A casual examination of the blog here at Retromodernist HQ will show a distressing lack of posts. Does this mean the end of Retromodernist?

I — he who is Quinn — say that no, no sir it is not! However if it is a curse to say “may you live in interesting times,” then things are very interesting indeed. So there has been a sad but necessary lull in the outward manifestation of all things Retromodernist. However things are still moving. So in the not too distant future expect to see:

• A resumption of posts
• A completely redesigned site
• The long-awaited Retromodernist calendar
• Many more prints for sale

So please be patient, and good things will follow.

(Yes, dear retromodernistas, our humble site has joined the Sugasm, a rather cool link exchange system started by the always readable Sam Sugar)

Mr. Sugasm Himself
An Illustrated Guide to Nude Modeling (sugarbank.com)

Top Voted Posts
Threesome with Master R and Master Anakin (http://darkside-journey.blogspot.com)
Voluntarily Violated (http://everythingoze.blogspot.com)
Girls Gone Wild: Producer Going to Hell (http://susiebright.com)

Sex News and Sexy Reviews
Audacia Ray films her porn movie! (http://viviane212.blogspot.com)
Glass Sex Toy 101 (http://sultry.naughtyblog.net)
New Kinky Designs Added! (http://www.tarasnaughtyshop.com)
Sex Toys Between Your Sheets: Write About It! (http://blog.babeland.com)
Straight Porn Review: Fuck It Like It’s Hot (http://blog.johnqafterhours.com)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Fantasies (http://sensualsingleton.blogspot.com)
HNT: The Heartbreakingly Kinky Sex (http://sabrinainstockings.com)
Mom’s Advice - His Fallen Angel (http://dawnndirty.blogspot.com)
The Purple Thing (http://bdsmlover.blogspot.com)
Suck Me! (http://gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Anatomy of a pinup, part 1 (telling the story)… (http://retromodernist.com)
Hanging onto Life by a G-String (http://www.taratainton.com)
The importance of being “in” (http://junohenry.wordpress.com)
Let’s Talk About Sex (http://www.seskuality.com)
Male Issues & The world revolves around My pussy? (http://www.alphadominablog.com)
Past Pleasures (http://edinerotica.blogspot.com)
The Quiet Ones (http://redfrique.blogspot.com)
Sleeping Naked (http://wanklog.blogspot.com)
Stirrings (http://ladycalliah.wordpress.com)
Why do men fall asleep after sex? (http://myhotbox.blogspot.com)

BDSM and Fetish
Dominating my Man! (http://www.la-day.blogspot.com)
The Honeymoon Part II (http://redvelvetropeburn.com)
Judas Kiss (http://nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)
Met with a white boi today (http://www.caramelvixen.com)
Negotiation 101 (http://www.dangerousfemme.com)
A Pleasant Personal Punishment (Part One) (http://seanandmel.blogspot.com)
A Return To (http://fresh-fetish.com/blog)

NSFW Pics Lots
More New Nudes of Me (http://totalsensuality.blogspot.com)
My Friend Naughty Julie (http://www.seska4lovers.com)
New I Feel Myself Video (http://eroticandy.blogspot.com)
Nicole Graves (http://hotboxbabe.thumblogger.com)

Humor
Cumming Confusion (http://radicalvixen.com/blog)
Ms Naughty Is About Porn For Women (http://www.msnaughty.com/blog/)
Sex Work My Sweet Lil Young Voice… (http://kyliecallme.com)

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

Anatomy of a pinup, part 1 (telling the story)…
This post marks the beginning of a periodic series of essays with the aim of taking you — dear retromodernistas — behind the scenes here at Retromodernist HQ, and walk you through what goes into making retromoden pinups. It also marks the beginning of our shameless marketing campaign, so keep your eyes open for the pitch at the end

Sometimes a shoot begins with a model, sometimes it comes from a prop or an idea. This time it started with the model. Kira had the two most important attributes of a 40s pinup. Wait right there bub. We ain’t talking about the T and the A. Nope, not even close. The most important things a 40s pinup needs are the E and the S — the eyes

 and smile 

Because no matter how much we like to say that men (and if we allow ourselves to be honest, women too) are only attracted to the anatomy needed to feed and birth children, it isn’t true. It’s the eyes. We see the eyes first, and they are what must engage us and pull us in. The eyes get the story started.

Then there is the smile. Take a look at pinup art in the 40s, there are really only two expressions — the smile and what can only be called the “oops face.” The latter came into its own in the 50s. In the 40s the smile was king. It is alluring. It seems to say that the model is in on the joke, and gives you permission (Why look at me, when you can look with me?).

Eyes and smile, and Kira has them to spare. They aren’t quite enough to build a shoot on (though it is tempting). A good pinup tells a story in a single picture. The base — and dare we say it. the puerile — have a role, but a pinup is something that keeps you coming back to look at it. You want to pin it up, and not turn the page. It should qualify as art, even if it does make you a little tingly as well.

So what is the story? It is impossible to separate the fifth decade of the 20th century from the world consuming war that has spawned too many mediocre video games and gave us the only enemy it was ok for everyone to hate (mmm nazis). The war also allowed for the US to loosen up a bit and be less afraid of sex. Portland (where Retromodernist HQ is located) has no shortage of vintage clothing and military surplus stores. It was from those that the core prop was acquired:

The hat was all that was needed. Once you picture it on Kira with her black hair and retro bangs, she becomes the sexy sailor. It’s almost there, but something is missing. She wouldn’t be aboard ship, no this would be on shore leave (was that the sound of a title snapping into place?). All that is needed is the right shirt:

and it all comes together. The whole story is right there. It sings. All that is left is to shoot it. The shirt is busy enough, so a nice simple blue background is all that is needed. Add in a simple mix of diffuse light (in a future installment we will go into the retromodernist theory of lighting) and it all comes to life:

Eyes, smile, wardrobe, story, and a beautiful sexy model. It just doesn’t get any better than that, (we told you there was a shameless pitch coming) and if you think so too, then you can get your own picture of Kira on Shore Leave at the Retromodernist store.

Amongst the phrases you will never hear uttered at Retromodernist HQ are “I only listen to alternative music” and “I used to listen to them until they sold out.” As though a song or band is only good so long as only pretentious hipsters and disaffected youth are aware of it.

Somewhere after the last nail was put in punk’s coffin (though it never really died, just went dormant — and apparently moved to Portland, Oregon), a new genus appeared on the musical ontology: Alternative. It had gone by the moniker “College” until the class of 1980-somthing graduated. The first name was fairly useless, but at least it told you where you would likely hear it — on college radio stations.

Alternative was about the worst label that could ever be attached to a style of music (though HorrorCore must follow it closely). Rock will always be Rock, even when your parents like it. Alternative is a condition. It only makes sense when the music represented is somehow outside of the mainstream, REMs Loosing My Religion was a good (if overplayed) song, but after an album goes platinum it can hardly be the alternative to anything. Still the label the label persists, though diminished as ever more sub-genre’s are recognized (Psychobilly anyone?).

Echoing the recent past, alternative port (or alt-porn) seems to be on the rise, and striking a blow against the man. Alternative is just as useless when applied to adult content as when it is applied to music.

The great banner carrier of alt-porn would be SuicideGirls.com. When it burst onto the scene a little over half a decade ago, it offered a new and fresh perspective on pictures of naked women (mmmm). It presented bodies that weren’t really seen in the vast majority of sites. Suicide girls weren’t the cookie-cutter models the industry knew would get our attention. They were the more likely the secret objects of desire to suburban salerymen. They were the 21st century answer to the shopgirl.

As SuicideGirls star rose, there was the inevitable backlash. There have been defections of models; competitors; allegations; and, perhaps worst of all, charges that they had sold out. No worse charge can be made against the alternative than that they had become popular with the vast world of the mundane. The term SuicideGirl has entered the popular the popular vernacular, and the site is an industry of its own.

But does the tattooed, pierced, punk/goth/raver really represent an alternative anymore? If you live in a population center they are everywhere to be seen. As Sam Sugar (of the always readable SugarBank) points out, mainstream porn stars such as Jenna have more ink on them than many supposedly alt-models do.

If alternative means what isn’t being represented in the mainstream, then perhaps the real alternative is the adult content that has models in all shapes and sizes, without making them caricatures (can we perhaps have a six-month moratorium on the words gangsta, ho, and slut?). Where actors are cast because of their aesthetic qualities and talent, and not just because they are all of one race (when was the last time you saw an asian man)? Where the content isn’t post-processed within an inch of its life and all has a kind of plastic sameness. All in a world where we as consumers demand (and get) better.

Right now that’s what is truly alternative and it’s a shame, because that is what the mainstream really should be…

We are no stranger to video games here at Retromodernist HQ, and we will confess to a certain fondness for the Metal Gear Ac!d series for the Sony PSP — wacky card-game mechanics and all. And with the recent release of the second game in the series, we knew that some quality time was going to be spent on the couch staring intently at Sony’s black slab.

As a game it delivers everything we have come to expect from Hideo Kojima. An emphasis on stealth and avoidance, amazing graphics, a near ununderstandable plot, strange stilted dialog (when did ‘…’ become a word?), and a long and tedious battle at yet another version of Metal Gear (actually MGA2 has 2 long and tedious battles against Metal Gear).

It also features another staple of Kojima’s productions: Sexy female characters who wear an under-abundance of clothing. This includes your sidekick Venus who wears a skirt so short you practically can see her panties (and do when she is knocked over). She also periodically jumps up and down during cutscenes for no apparent reason (except to watch her apples mangosCantaloups jiggle).

Can we stop for a moment and just say: give it a rest guys. Does every game have to have the same stereotypes? Do breasts have to keep getting bigger, and skirts shorter. Who thought the chain-mail halter-top is best thing to wear to battle. Was breast-jiggle physics what was stopping us from making the gaming equivilent of Citizen Kane?

But — I can hear you thinking to yourself — you take pictures of naked women. Pot, I’d like to introduce you to Mr Kettle.

If we are going to say that sex is not the enemy — and we do — then we have a responsibility to come at the subject with something a little more than a middle-school mentality. Laura Croft pushed an edge out a bit, but at the same time she was presented as a tough, confident, and smart woman who could probably drink us all under the table. At least for the first couple of games, somewhere along the path they went from being in on the joke — after that things went south in so many ways.

Is a game like Rumble Roses degrading to women or misogynist? Probably not. People throw around the word misogyny in much the way they throw around the word fascist — without much understanding of its meaning to express their displeasure. Games like that doesn’t so much express a subtle campaign of hatred toward women as they appeal to that middle school “ooo! boobies!” mentality.

As for the photography you will find on this site. Well every shoot and every picture we present is done with the goal of fuffilling the earliest items from our manifesto (and hopefully we succeed):

• Women are my equals, if not my betters.
• Women look marvelous without their clothes, and we should celebrate that fact.

We just want to see games live up to the same standard. So video game industry? There is nothing wrong with sexy characters (of either gender), and showing flesh, or even (shock of shocks) sex; but it is time to grow up a little.

Hard launch? Soft launch? Write the big manifesto? How about this: any launch is better than no launch. So In that light we are proud to present to you — dear retromodernistas — the opening of the promised Retromodernist Pinup Site!

Everything is still very rough around the edges and there is much work to be done. Have no fear, the expected long rambling manifesto post is coming, but in the mean time look at the beautiful women!

What is RetroModernism?

Somewhere along the line there came a general agreement about where nostalgia began. The idea is that each decade becomes nostalgic for the time two decades back. When the 80s came along it seemed as though the 60s were in vogue, though perhaps it was just the media monoculture that made it seem like it was. When the 90s came along a rumbling machine started to kick into gear to try and assure we would get everything from the 70s we never knew we wanted again.

Now we are halfway though next decade, and it is time to call bunk. All one has to do is look around and see that nothing really goes away. It all sticks around in one form or another. Call them scenes, or hobbies, or what you will; it is all still there bubbling beneath the surface. It was foolish to think that there was some kind of retrozeitgeist.

What makes the 00s (the naughties?) different is that it is the first generation to realize this — the first one to embrace it. Its ok to be a punk and to lindy-hop. Go to a car show and you can see Rockabillies and Lowriders uniting over a common love of cars (and to be fair of pretty girls as well). It is the long tail applied to cultural identity.

We see this as the trend for the future. Its a constantly swirling mass of the past and the present forming to make the future. This is what we call RetroModernism.

What is RetroModernist.com?

Version One of this site was a blog about the ideas and what makes us what we are — the culture, the media, the arts. It started with a manifesto and grew from there. The site never shied from the topic of sex, or for that matter of porn. The first version of the site culminated with a raised fist in the air and the declaration that sex is not the enemy.

Version Two of the site is in the process of being launched. Retromodernist will be everything it was. The blog remains front and center, with the manifesto our guiding star. In fact we feel it is time to put our money where our mouth is when it comes to the following points:

• Women are my equals, if not my betters.
• Women look marvelous without their clothes, and we should celebrate that fact.
• The last two statements don’t contradict each another.

So it is time for us to expand Retromodernist in a new direction. We plan on celebrating beautiful women and the pinups of the 20s though the 60s. Really, what could be better than that?

No evolution, sometimes it depresses me…

There isn’t much not to like about the band Garbage. They mash together a number of musical forms to consistently produce great albums, and they are fronted by a talented, attractive, sexually self-confident pocket-rocket of a lead singer with and extremely cute scottish accent. Really, what more could one ask for? They are music for a retromodernist generation.

Even better when they un-broke-up/ended their "break" to finish and release their latest album Bleed Like Me. In and amongst the meaty fare of the album (for those of us who have known cutters the title track rings so very very true), there is the initially fluffy sounding Sex Is Not The Enemy. We couldn’t have said it better ourselves Shirley.

This country (the US for you international retromodernistas) couldn’t be more of two minds when it comes to sex. We have always been hypocrites. Our leaders have always proclaimed public morals while keeping a little trim on the side. Along with out short memories and entrepreneurial spirit is the amazing power of hypocrisy that allowed Roy Cohen to say "I’m not a homosexual, I just have sex with men." However this trend seems to have reached an apex in this current decade.

The religious group Focus on the Family had the political power to block (or at least postpone) the international adoption of the .xxx domain suffix. Pat Robertson, when not calling for the assaination of South American leaders, can go on nationally broadcast television and issue screeds that correlate Feminism to Socialism , and decry the "Homosexual Agenda" (whatever that is). At the same time Girls Gone Wild is advertised on television. The release of a sex tape raises Paris Hilton’s stock and extended her time in the public eye.

We are no longer a single people of two minds about sex, we are two Americas and, let’s be honest, we are all hypocrites. As retromodernists, we have a solution to the problem: we need a new sexual revolution. The first sexual revolution — the one of the 60s and 70s — never quite hit the mark. Oh there was plenty of effective-contraception (and to be honest other drug) fueled sex. In the end however, when we look back we see more of the sex (and bully for that) and less of the revolution, and the tragic end that AIDS put to it.

The first sexual revolution can be seen as an offshoot of feminism. For a while the latter seemed to get lost in the weeds of gender politics, redefining rape, and the insular world of academia. The former was supposed to be about personal empowerment, choice, and rewriting the rules (and sex, let us not forget the sex). What we remember reads like a letter to Penthouse.

This has got to stop. The fines imposed after Ms Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction made them the most expensive mammeries out there (in excess of half a million dollars). From what we could see, they were lovely, but we think that might be valuing them a bit too dear. At the same time one can go to Europe and see far more on billboards and television, without society crumbling. If we don’t stop this madness then we are going to see the same kind of madness that lead to Prohibition, and we all know how well that worked out.

Let’s be clear, the answer isn’t the inverse. It isn’t Female Chauvinist Pigs and public nudity (though we have no objection to either). We have to get to a place where we say sex is not the enemy, and that it is up to each of us to find their path. If you want to remain a virgin till marriage, then bully for you. If you want to have anonymous group sex every night of the week, then off you go and be safe. In other countries, politicians have mistresses and the press just shrugs it shoulders and gets on with real news. We have to get to a place where we recognize that a presidential blowjob is only a crisis to the three parties involved.

We need a new sexual revolution. It has to be real and lasting this time. It has to be about choice and tolerance. It’s probably more important this time, and we have to get it right. Lets say it again: we have to start with the belief that sex is not the enemy, and that the only rules we make from there apply to ourselves. It is not any of our business what other consenting adults do. Life is hard enough without forcing other people to replace their arbitrary rules with our arbitrary rules. So dear retromodernistas, turn up the volume and chant it with us loud and clear:

A revolution, is the solution…

Alien

Quite scary for its time and even today remains very frightening especially for the uninitiated. The Alien was barely ever shown, which heightened the sense of fear. There was only one, unlike Aliens (though that’s a very good movie too), and the fact that just this one single Alien could take out the entire crew increased the sense that they were fighting an unstoppable force.

The discovery of the face hugger in the alien ship at the start of the movie hinted at a great mythos, a huge, detailed, well-thought-out alien race that was barely revealed during the rest of the movie.

The Princess Bride

A lot of people think this is a Mel Brooks movie, possibly because of Cary Elwes’ presence in the later and far inferior Men In Tights. But it’s not.

What it IS is a wonderful source of one-liners and quotes, a great story with love, friendship, swordfighting, evil, good, torture, revenge, a pop culture icon that has inspired and entertained a generation, a keen satirical commentary with tongue firmly planeted in cheek, a universally acceptable experience for people of all ages, and, paradoxically, a testimony to the power and dominance of fiction in book form over every other form of media. The Neverending Story tried to teach the same lesson, but it is a failure compared to this.

The movie was also perfectly cast, better cast than any movie, ever. There is no imagining anyone else in the roles, not only because we’ve seen them in them so many times, but because in a very real sense the actors WERE the roles. Special notice goes to the fact that this was my pubescent introduction to Robin Wright, who I continue to maintain was, in this movie, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Joe Versus The Volcano

I’m not sure why this movie didn’t do better. I love it; I can watch it over and over again. Like The Princess Bride, it’s an excellent source of quotes, and it’s a comedy, but the similarities end there.

The movie is an existential comedy, many years before I Heart Huccabees was shat out. It’s far more accessible than that overpretentious egofest, though–it examines, in an easy-to-swallow and very funny format, the issues we all face daily. Why are we here? What are we doing? What’s the secret to happiness? Most importantly, who are we? And why is good luggage of such prime importance?

You also get the proven Hanks/Ryan chemistry that we’ve seen so many times, which is no small thing.

Blade Runner (The Director’s Cut)

Basically, The Director’s Cut is the only version of this movie for me. I’m not going to get into why; the internet can explain that subject far better than I can.

Blade Runner is the first movie I remember that made me really think about prejudice. Sure, I’d seen To Kill a Mockingbird in school, and read Tom Sawyer, and all that stuff, but Blade Runner brought the lesson home.

The first time I heard the line “It’s too bad she won’t live… but then again, who does?” it was as though a cold, icy knife had been driven into my heart–I still get cold chills, just thinking about it. Every time I view the movie, I find something new, or come to a different conclusion. Its ambiguity makes it endlessly debatable.

Best of all, the movie’s poignancy never trespasses into the maudlin; those portions of the movies are viewed through the same gritty, dispassionate lens that the replicant killings and Deckard’s “romance” with Rachael are, allowing the viewer to make up their own mind, to come to their own conclusion. A truly great film.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

I suppose that this movie is something of a guilty pleasure for me. It’s extremely accessible, it’s very beautiful on every count, it’s well cast, it’s well directed, it’s well acted, the cinematography is top-notch, as is the coreography.

Why do I feel like a sellout by admitting that I like this movie? I wish I knew. Perhaps it’s in it’s wide popularity, or the faddish feeling I get for admitting I like kung fu, or the fact that Zhang Ziyi is the new hotness.

Whatever. I guess I’m thinking too much about it. It’s a nearly perfect movie, without flaw, and is wonderful to look at, and has an ending that makes you actually think.

The Usual Suspects

This one has been accused of cheating, in the past, by pulling an extremely dirty trick on the audience that isn’t even revealed until nearly the end. It has a serious, neck-jolting twist on the same order of the one in The Sixth Sense, one which makes you reexamine the entire experience you just went through. Some people don’t like that.

This movie is basically the ultimate heist film, and at the same time a great mystery. It doesn’t pull any punches, none at all. It is ultraviolent in a gritty and realistic way. It has this central mystery–”Who is Keyser Soze”–and the way that the answer to this question is revealed goes down like smooth, smooth liquor.

When you’re done watching it, you’ll want to watch it again–and maybe a third time, just to be sure you got everything straight.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

For being uberpopular, this film nevertheless succeeds in avoiding any sense of commercialization or compromise. Watching it for the first time is a spellbinding revelation for anyone who hasn’t read the books, and for those of us who have, it’s like “going there,” as Peter Beagle says, “like a shot.”

The film stands apart from the other two, for me. It’s actually quite similar to how I feel about the books themselves. This one is manageable. You can get your head around nine brothers-in-arms starting off together on a hopeless journey, of the friendships they develop, of the pain they feel at the breaking of their little fellowship. At the same time, hints are given into the overwhelmingly deep history Tolkien crafted, and the events to come in the future, enticing glimpses of future delicacies which, unfortuneately for me, reality did not live up to (though I love the entire trilogy). It’s like a digest of everything that Tolkien has ever meant to me.

Later, events spiral out of control and the Fellowship goes its separate ways; but those separate ways wouldn’t have any kind of meaning if we weren’t introduced to the eponymous Fellowship in this book.

Rear Window

My favorite Hitchcock film, bar none. It’s just this great little simple situational thriller, easy to grasp, easy to watch, easy to think about.

Very few movies are able to actually move me to any emotion. This is one of the only (or maybe THE only) movie where I remember being completely on the edge of my seat, biting my fingernails, full of worry and stress along with James Stewart as we watched Grace Kelly search through Lars’ apartment. I was completely in the moment and I can’t pay MONEY for that feeling, usually. It’s a rare treasure and I have Hitchcock to thank for it.

The Matrix

An obvious choice. After the crapfest that was the next two movies, it’s hard to remember just how seminal and revolutionary The Matrix was, as the time, how deeply into the cultural veins of a twentysomething scifi fan during the 90s it was capable of sinking its tendrils.

Make no mistake–The Matrix was a great film, and is still capable of carrying me away. It’s post-Gibsonian; and Gibson has always been a prophet for me. It’s filled with recognizable and threadbare and worn archetypes that nevertheless comfort me like a warm pair of flannel pajamas. It’s shockingly visceral and alarmingly true; how many people do you know who are asleep in their own personal Matrices as we speak?

And I really groove on Alice in Wonderland references, whether overt or subtle.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1

I didn’t like Vol. 2. Or rather, I liked it, but on completely different terms than this one. Personally, I saw this as a homage rather than original material, which should automatically disqualify it from this list, but it doesn’t. I see it more as a seminal and vital entry into the very genre of homage, rather than as a samurai film. And it does it so very well.

Watching the film feels rather like reading a particularly gripping graphic novel. The characters are caricatures; every moment looks like it was storyboarded right from a panel of a comic book. There isn’t a moment, a line, an action, a point of blocking, a sound, a shot, or a bit of music that isn’t deliberately calculated to tug at some string in your personality, that isn’t designed to make you scream “I KNOW THIS! I LOVE THIS! I HAVE SEEN THIS 1000 TIMES BEFORE!!!” There are so many inside jokes, so many nods and winks, so many universally recognizable moments. I spent the entire movie caught up in a huge sense of deja vu, a gigantic smile on my face, my heart beating 1000 times a minute.

And the violence is like candy. There were rumblings from various conservative groups about how ultra-violent it was; and they aren’t wrong. But it feels to me akin to the violence in Monty Python and the Holy Grail; not to be taken seriously, but to be laughed at. Not to be horrified by, but to be educated by, in the sense that it served for me as a commentary on current American cultural values. Whether or not this was the intent is moot for me.

And seeing the blindingly attractive Lucy Liu, standing atop a conference table, holding a beautiful samurai sword, blood spray decorating her flawless face, which is contorted in fury, wearing a shiny asian dress, and screaming “I’ll cut your fuckin’ head off!” was one of the singular most memorable moments of my moviegoing life.

The Shining

The scariest movie I have ever seen. The massive impact this film had on the genre and indeed on the entire entertainment industry can be seen in the huge number of times people have chosen to parody scenes from it. I had no idea what I was getting into the first time I watched this–I’d never seen a trailer, I just had no idea. It was one of the most frightening and exciting thrillrides I’ve ever been on. It stands up to the test of time on almost every level. And it keeps me coming back, sometimes so that I can remember how I felt watching it the first time, sometimes so I can introduce others to it, and sometimes for asthetic reasons. It’s just a classic.

Kubrik’s signature sparse directorial style and spartan camerawork add to the cold, numbing sense that what you’re seeing is a documentary or maybe even simply raw footage of a real event. It touches deep into the psyche; the universal themes are all the more scary because of their universality. It has everything.

It has a kid riding his trike through a labrynth of abandoned hotel hallways. It has little girls in dresses (the scariest thing in the Universe). It has a man slowly being driven mad. It has voices, an axe, and a huge freezer. And it has Olive Oyle. What more can you ask for?

To this date it holds the two scariest and disturbing–not necessarily startling, but just overall scary–scenes of any I’ve ever seen. 1) All Work and No Play make Jack a Dull Boy and 2) the furry at the end. I’m serious, that fucking woodchuck practically made me wet my pants. I literally screamed.

In another era it was the shopgirl, or the waitress. That average, attractive, younger, just possibly attainable girl (and let us face it that is how we think of them, as girls). You encounter them as a reqular part of yor day, and that repeated contact creates a bond of a sort. The prescheduled banter helps to foster the idea that they could be interested in you. All of this despite the fact that you may be twice their age, married, and possibly little more than a mole in man form.

Somewhere along the way the object of affection for the modern equivelent of the man in the grey flannel suit became the coffeegirl (we here at Retromodernist HQ would like to encourage the use of the unified word, in the vain hope it might be used in a OED submission). With the rise of the great devouring entity that is Starbucks came a growing niche to employ the 18-24 year old. In the post-punk world, they tend to have a somewhat alt edge to them, and that makes them even more desireable to the salerymen who may shift their commute or daily routine to come into contact with their favorite.

The rise of alt-girl (which we think only deserved the hyphen) porn — such as the juggernaught that is SuicideGirls.com — only fans the flames. Now wie have the opportunity (quite literaly) to peak beneath the kimono. They become more unatainable, yet some how just out of reach. The sad truth is that the heart (and loins) are far from logical, so they become even more desireable. Think about it too long and it all has a Madam Butterfly feel to it. Of course who wants to think that way when Chocho-san is there each morning to smile and serve up your caffinated selection.

None of this is to imply that this a deliberate act of manipulation on the part of the coffeegirl contingent. That would be a complicated and capritious game to play by people working for near minumum wage — plus tips. No these are — by and large — just friendly, personable, and occasionally flirty young women that provide a canvas to project our fantasies.

There is no shortage of ideas for side projects here at Retromodernist central, but the idea of opening up a sub-site dedicated to these sirens has great appeal. At that point RM would become part of the story, feeding our ever growing desire, and who could ask for more than that?