foxesinbreeches:

Girl with Nun’s Habit - Posterotica
George Adams for Playboy, September 1970
Via tenebrouskate

foxesinbreeches:

Girl with Nun’s Habit - Posterotica

George Adams for Playboy, September 1970

Via tenebrouskate




A scrummily fishnetted Bettie Page
(via vinylskirt:girlcrushing:-lofuckinglita:blackjackbones:thequeenofpinup)

A scrummily fishnetted Bettie Page

(via vinylskirt:girlcrushing:-lofuckinglita:blackjackbones:thequeenofpinup)




billyjane:

mudwerks:Marieaunet: Alberto Vargas - Rêverie, c. 1923

billyjane:

mudwerks:Marieaunet: Alberto Vargas - Rêverie, c. 1923




garconniere:

seeminglydistant:

intox:billyjane:


1000 dessous:Illustration for “Their Knickers” series: Indiscretions of the wind
by Chéri Herouard,1920s




[Detail from this image]

garconniere:

seeminglydistant:

intox:billyjane:

1000 dessous:Illustration for “Their Knickers” series: Indiscretions of the wind

by Chéri Herouard,1920s

[Detail from this image]




frogsandcrowns:

sophiejade:allegra:itsamystery:(via scarymansion)

Leo Fontan

frogsandcrowns:

sophiejade:allegra:itsamystery:(via scarymansion)

Leo Fontan




my-ear-trumpet:

alabaster1:jennydreadful:thoudostwish:laesfinge:
ENOCH BOLLES 1937 (by Sheepback.Cabin)

my-ear-trumpet:

alabaster1:jennydreadful:thoudostwish:laesfinge:

ENOCH BOLLES 1937 (by Sheepback.Cabin)




Un siècle de pin up - 1971: Au carrefour étrange.
God, 1000 posts as of yesterday.
I’ve virtually abandoned my Livejournal for the infinitely more procrastination-friendly, automatic, intimacy-eluding fluidity and accessibility of this place, and the seduction of the image, so much pithier and more potent as it is at the moment than paragraphs of purple prose. Brevity was always an issue for me.
Part of me thinks this is symptomatic of the writer’s block I’ve been fighting for the past few months, which has left my thesis as patchy and lukewarm and lonely as said Livejournal. Here, the allure and effortlessness of the reblog, and the frequent lack of need for annotation or elaboration, makes the illusion of productivity or engagement especially easy to conjure up, evoking a very appealing sense of seamlessless and minimalism. There are Tumblrs I read for their writing, which I’ve subsequently become addicted to, but mostly my dashboard plays out like a dazzlingly hyperreal schmorgasboard of images, dangerously engrossing and dangerously multiplicitous, mobile, heterogeneous, unstill.
I’m not ragging on Tumblr - I love the way it draws my attention to art, historical and literary artifacts, fragments of aesthetic loveliness, and obscure ephemera I probably may have never stumbled across otherwise, and I have a huge amount of admiration for the resourcefulness, thoughtfulness and detail which goes into many of the Tumblrs I follow.
But I wonder at the compulsiveness of it - the way I constantly check it the way one checks for new emails or letters from a new lover; the Sturm und Drang anal-retentiveness with which I have to cite and source everything I come across (and my weird, obsessive unwillingness to engage with unsourced material); the way it sucks up so much of the time I should be spending being everything but economical and pithy; the way it invokes in me a strange fidelity.

Un siècle de pin up - 1971: Au carrefour étrange.

God, 1000 posts as of yesterday.

I’ve virtually abandoned my Livejournal for the infinitely more procrastination-friendly, automatic, intimacy-eluding fluidity and accessibility of this place, and the seduction of the image, so much pithier and more potent as it is at the moment than paragraphs of purple prose. Brevity was always an issue for me.

Part of me thinks this is symptomatic of the writer’s block I’ve been fighting for the past few months, which has left my thesis as patchy and lukewarm and lonely as said Livejournal. Here, the allure and effortlessness of the reblog, and the frequent lack of need for annotation or elaboration, makes the illusion of productivity or engagement especially easy to conjure up, evoking a very appealing sense of seamlessless and minimalism. There are Tumblrs I read for their writing, which I’ve subsequently become addicted to, but mostly my dashboard plays out like a dazzlingly hyperreal schmorgasboard of images, dangerously engrossing and dangerously multiplicitous, mobile, heterogeneous, unstill.

I’m not ragging on Tumblr - I love the way it draws my attention to art, historical and literary artifacts, fragments of aesthetic loveliness, and obscure ephemera I probably may have never stumbled across otherwise, and I have a huge amount of admiration for the resourcefulness, thoughtfulness and detail which goes into many of the Tumblrs I follow.

But I wonder at the compulsiveness of it - the way I constantly check it the way one checks for new emails or letters from a new lover; the Sturm und Drang anal-retentiveness with which I have to cite and source everything I come across (and my weird, obsessive unwillingness to engage with unsourced material); the way it sucks up so much of the time I should be spending being everything but economical and pithy; the way it invokes in me a strange fidelity.




queering:

Surreal Pin Up
via Gatochy 
[from Agence Eureka archives]

Love the pants off this. The hand, the gloves, the rather steady gaze between the blackness of the fingers, the almost kitschily fetishistic tone of it all, like a particularly histrionic postcard for Surrealism & Eroticism 101: quite perfect.

queering:

Surreal Pin Up

via Gatochy

[from Agence Eureka archives]

Love the pants off this. The hand, the gloves, the rather steady gaze between the blackness of the fingers, the almost kitschily fetishistic tone of it all, like a particularly histrionic postcard for Surrealism & Eroticism 101: quite perfect.




Girl with Nun’s Habit - Posterotica
George Adams for Playboy, September 1970
Via tenebrouskate

Girl with Nun’s Habit - Posterotica

George Adams for Playboy, September 1970

Via tenebrouskate