Musings
Retromodernist started out as a blog that had essays on popular culture, the media, and posted the occasional picture of a pretty girl. Then we realized that pretty girls were far more interesting than anything we have to say, and just focused on the photography.
But as we look back to that sweeter, more innocent, time of ... last decade, some of what we wrote seems worth keeping around. and so we present them here (in close to their original form) for your enjoyment:
George Lucas, please stop hurting us
Originally posted 2005-03-27
Star Wars -- the original unmolested "Han Solo is the kind of guy who would shoot first" one -- shaped a generation. It fed our souls. It pulled science fiction kicking and screaming into the mainstream. We should all bow down to George Lucas every day and thank him for that alone. Then came The Empire Strikes Back, and it proved that the story could go to a darker, more interesting, place. Then the trilogy ended, and Return of the Jedi can only be described as flawed; and there were Ewoks. The horror. The horror. Still it was over and as a whole a great and marvelous thing.
We eagerly awaited Lucas to make good on his promise to make the next movie in the series. We had two good movies, and one with Ewoks. The odds were still with us. Time passed, and passed. We started to get older, and while the movies still hold a dear place in our heart we began to look at them with a more critical eye.
Consider the progression of Princess Leia. In the first movie she is a tough talking tomboy who is the equal, if not better, of any of the main characters. In the second she doesn't seem to have much of a role. By the third, she is reduced to window dressing in a metal bikini (mmmmm) that looks like it would have been more in place in one of John Norman's Gor books. As I recall, Carrie Fisher described her feelings about going into the film as "Great another of George's all-boy fantasies." We see a similar progression of female characters in the Indian Jones movies (the great collaboration of Lucas and Spielberg): Kick-ass tomboy to simpering ingenue to Nazi hell-bitch (mmmmm).
So when Lucas announced he was finally going to begin work on the prequel series, there was a moment when many of us paused to wonder if this was a good thing. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to try and go home again. Then we pushed those thoughts away and ran home to clutch our Boba Fett action figures close to our hearts, and jump for joy. Even the puzzling statement that when he said there were going to be nine films in total, he really meant six. We reminded ourselves that you gave us Radioland Murders, so there is something still there.
To be fair, there were so many nuggets of goodness to pan out of The Phantom Menace. Darth Maul was evil, so wonderfully evil. All his dialog would fit on a half a cocktail napkin half torn from beneath a shot of a fine single malt, but it felt so good to just hate him right from the start. Ewan McGregor just felt right as the young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then there was Natalie Portman (mmmmm). It wasn't just her inherent yumminess, but the return to a more interesting female lead. But wait. We find out she is just 14, and all of a sudden a large portion of the male audience starts feeling like they need a shower. Dirty...so dirty. At least it distracted us from trying to figure out the term limited constitutionally elected teenage monarchy that was the head of.
Well before that point there was more than enough to warn us that the curve continuing in the direction set by Return of the Jedi. Lucas was breaking from the canon, the one Lucas said he had all mapped out before he started the original Star Wars. We began to think he was just making this stuff as he went along. While Lucas might have redeemed himself to women, but he found whole new groups to alienate. From the strangely oriental trade federation frog things, to the strangely Jewish slave owning junk dealer, to the Stepin Fetchit-esqe Jar Jar Binks (shudder).
With Attack of the Clones we started to feel like being a battered spouse. We knew what was coming. We knew it would hurt. We knew better, but we were lured back when we were reminded how good it used to be. Come on back, one more time. He told us he had learned his lesson. So we took him back. At first it was good, but then soon enough we find ourselves just sitting there wondering when it will be over.
So Mr. Lucas. Sir? Episode 3 will be out soon and we will see it. We came this far and just have see it out. We have just one thing to ask: now that you have gotten it out of your system, would you please stop hurting us? It's been the better three decades now, it doesn't seem much to ask.
Epilouge: [TODO]
What's the alternative?
Originally posted 2006-07-06
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-something 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) once pointed out, mainstream porn stars such as Janine 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...
Epilogue: [TODO]
The lure of the coffee girl
Originally posted 2005-05-23
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 regular part of your 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 equivalent of the man in the grey flannel suit became the coffee girl (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 desirable 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 juggernaut that is SuicideGirls.com -- only fans the flames. Now we have the opportunity (quite literally) to peak beneath the kimono. They become more unobtainable, 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 desirable. 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 caffeinated selection.
None of this is to imply that this a deliberate act of manipulation on the part of the coffee girl contingent. That would be a complicated and capricious game to play by people working for near minimum 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?
Epilogue: [TODO]
Come the revolution...
Originally posted 2005-10-11
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 assassination 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 mammaries 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 blow-job 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...
Epilouge: [TODO]
Miss Oginist, I presume?
Originally posted 2006-04-04
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 un-understandable 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 equivalent 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 fulfilling 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.
Epilogue: [TODO]
Anatomy of a pinup, part 1 (telling the story)...
Originally posted 2006-08-01
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 retromodern 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.
Epilogue: It has been a while since the first installment, but there will be more. Really!