Posts Tagged ‘blondes’

Music and Movie Moment: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes — Marilyn Monroe, “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend.”

January 9, 2010

Marilyn Monroe – Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Howard Hawks, 1953). Lorelei Lee, played by Marilyn Monroe, and Dorothy Shaw (Jane Russell) are a couple of good-time gals. The pair are a double act of nightclub singers from Little Rock, Arkansas who go to perform on a transatlantic cruise and have some fun adventures while at sea and in Paris.

Lorelei has a boyfriend, Gus, who is an heir to a fortune. They genuinely love each other and plan to marry, but his father is suspicious of Lorelei’s intentions where his son is concerned. Lorelei and Gus are supposed to go on a cruise to France together. However, Gus’s father forbids Gus to go along, so Lorelei convinces Dorothy to come with her instead.


Lorelei: Dorothy — Mr. Esmond and I are getting married!
Dorothy: What, to each other?
Gus: Of course to each other. Who else to?
Dorothy: Well, I don’t know about you, Gus, but I always figured Lorelei would end up with the Secretary of the Treasury.

Gus’s father catches wind of this and, hoping to catch Lorelei doing something unfaithful or illegal which will convince Gus of her unacceptability as a mate, he hires a private investigator named Ernie Malone to follow the girls abroad. For his part, Gus warns Dorothy to keep an eye on Lorelei while they’re on the cruise.


Gus: Dorothy Shaw. I want you to remember you’re supposed to be the chaperone on this trip.
Dorothy: Let’s get this straight, Gus. The chaperone’s job is to see that nobody else has any fun. But nobody chaperones the chaperone! [pauses] That’s why I’m so right for this job.


Dorothy: I’m not in condition to wrestle
I’ve never trained in a gym
Show me a man who can nestle
And I’ll pin a medal on him

I like big muscles
And red corpuscles
I like a beautiful hunk of man,
but I’m no physical culture fan.
Ain’t there anyone here for love? (“Ain’t There Anyone Here For Love,” Hoagy Carmichael and Harold Adamson, 1953)


Malone, the private investigator hired by Gus’s father to tail the girls, falls in love with Dorothy, while Lorelei gets up to shenanigans with the owner of a diamond mine, convincing him to snag for her his wife’s sparkly tiara (Shiny object?! Dogpile!!! — oh, we ladies) and a shitload of trouble in the process.

During Lorelei’s “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” number, a scene for which the movie is justly famous, women serve as chandeliers, wall sconces, and candelabras.

Ah, the ornamental sex. The girls disembark in Paris and discover that Malone has sent Gus pictures of Lorelei’s flirtation with Beekman, the diamond mine owner, and Gus has subsequently cut Lorelei’s line of credit off. Penniless and stranded on an unfamiliar side of the Atlantic, the girls go with what they know and begin performing as nightclub singers there.

Despite being completely poor and in dire straits, the girls continue to dream big, impressed by the couture shops of Paris. They have no idea that their troubles have followed them.

Lorelei stands accused of theft by the wife of the diamond mine owner, and, in a classic case of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing, Beekman steals the tiara back. The girls don’t know this so they try to find it when the police come looking for Lorelei, which of course would be disastrous for her hopes of marriage to Gus.

The only way for Lorelei to clear her name and end the whole mess is for them to find the tiara and return it to Lady Beekman, so the girls divide their efforts. Lorelei goes on the hunt while Dorothy dons a blonde wig and allows the police to arrest her, claiming to be Lorelei.

I will not now continue to spoil the details, I will only let you know it works out great and to everyone who ever claimed Marilyn was a “bigger” actress or what-have-you, sizing worked differently back then and I think this picture of both the lovely ladies proves that Marilyn was actually pretty petite for the era.

All of the pictures in this post are just a few of the wonderful stills that are posted on the Nostalgia Party No. 2 community, a lovingly curated collection of screencaps on the lj. The stills from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes were posted by bowied. I strongly urge you to go and waste a ton of time in the community’s beautiful neck of the woods.

I’m sick as heck so I’m’a throw up a Daily Batman and hit the hay. It probably took me two hours to write this, and that is sheer nonsense. Good night, mainly!

NSFW November: Tonja Christensen, Miss November 1991

November 30, 2009

And Then There Was One.

Your final Miss November is Playboy’s November 1991 Playmate of the Month, the lovely and talented Tonja Christensen. She is last because, next to Monica Tidwell and Bebe Buell, I think she is the prettiest of the girls of November. Someday I will examine my feminine beauty ideals, but not today because I’m busy. Anyway, I am afraid that, though I saved her for last because I thought she was beautiful, it is a mixed blessing; she bears the brunt of my boredom and busy-ness, because I’ve not got time nor inclination to say much about her. Going to let the interview with her do most of the talking.


Photographs by Stephen Wayda

Blonde, blue-eyed and gutsy Tonja Marie Christensen, who just turned 20, has come a long way in the past two years — 5800 miles, to be exact, the distance from West Valley City, Utah, a sleepy suburb of Salt Lake City, to cosmopolitan Barcelona, Spain’s second largest city. There, while the Catalan capital gears up for the 1992 Olympics, she’s diligently pursuing a dual career in modeling and acting. (“A Blonde in Barcelona,*” Playboy, November 1991)

Dang, I forgot there even was a Summer Olympics in Barcelona. There are new ones coming up, you know. Everyone hurry and get jingoistic about sports! Also, buy Doritos!!

*Gracious, that is just a damned ridiculous title. Barcelona is from where many a blonde Spaniard hails. Everyone knows that there are tons of hot (and not) fair people in Spain. With over 3 million people living in the city at the time of Tonja’s residency, I sincerely doubt she stood out because of her hair color in any way, shape, or form. You may just as well have said, “A two-legged person,” or even “A person from another country who lives” … “in Barcelona.” Jesus. What a stupid, Americanized view of what Spanish people look like to advance. Shame on you, Playboy: I expect you to be more international and dashing and man-of-foreign-knowledgey than that.


Our Miss November was one of nine children, an example she doesn’t plan to follow. “I believe families should be three or four children at most,” she says.

An intriguing viewpoint for a girl from Utah. Goodness knows, I know the playmates do not like it when assumptions are made about their religion (see last entry for a brave girl who was not embarassed to be of an identifiable faith and culture) … but … come on. Hint, hint, ya know?

Two things weird me out totally about the above shot.

  • Her arm hair has, like, its own set of dewy crystalline eye lights shining in it.
  • Her pubic hair has been either dyed or cell-painted to match her fake (though lovely!) head-hair color. In the previous shots it is dark.
  • See, I have a couple rules of thumb for gentlemen who want to imagine ladies sans clothing — I know you are few and far between because that is like, so gross, what with our widely-documented girl cooties and all, but bear with me for the sake of those perverse and unhappy freaks among you who actually picture women naked — and I am happy to share them. First, a lady’s pubic hair is nearly always the same shade as the coarse hair of her brows. So lay the drapes aside altogether, discard their color completely, and, unless you are pretty sure the gal you are gawking at has bleached or somehow cosmetically altered them, her eyebrows are your best bet as to the color of the carpet.

    Similarly, the color of her lips without the aid of gloss, lipstick, rouge, permanent surgical lining assistance, or any other type of makeup is your leading predictor of the color of her nipples. Finally, a few shades darker but in the same family of hues as the lips and “nips” follow the labia (those can get rosier/darker brown depending on her arousal level and whether she is Northern European or has stronger Sapphardic Jew DNA — Caucus mountains and Eastern/Southern Europe are less pink and more browny-purple, and obviously your ladies from Africa and its subcontinent follow suit in deeper shades as well). Take those tips to the bank, y’all. You’re welcome!

    Wow, I did not even realize there was a time when LaToya Jackson did not look like a total freak made of 90% post-consumer recyclable parts. She looks comparably human here. You’d think one of her psychic friends would have warned her of the Madamism syndrome of too much plastic surgery! Better luck in your next life, LaToya.

    NSFW November: Barbara Cameron, Miss November 1955

    November 2, 2009

    The lovely and talented Barbara Cameron, Playboy November 1955’s Playmate of the month, cover shot by Arthur James.

    The picture that was selected by Playboy’s editor as the centerfold was so bad in my opinion, such a disservice to the hokey, natural, kind of amicably donkey-faced, toothy beauty of Barbara Cameron…


    Shitty, unflattering photo by Lawrence Tirschel.

    …that I absolutely, categorically had to include the rest of the shots from her feature.

    It’s hard to believe it is even the same woman. What a difference when she is in an environment and with a photographer with whom she was comfortable enough to really smile.

    I think she had a genuine playfulness that comes across in these black and white shots, by whomever they are, than the stiffness screaming from her postures in that godawful centerfold picture by Tirschel and the only moderately better cover photo by Arthur James.

    Cute, right?

    That could be Santa Monica or it could be Montauk, I truly have no idea. Playboy was still on the East Coast at that time, I think. So probably more like the Jersey shore, but there is practically no way of telling.

    Long story short, these b&w beach shots are sooo much better, right? They barely look like they were taken at the same time of the year, and I don’t even know if they were done by the same photographer (I suspect not). There is basically zero info on Barbara Cameron, the model, on the internet, though ironically info on conservative Christian author Barbara Cameron, the mother of Kirk and Candace — of Growing Pains and Full House, respectively — abounds. Heh. I’m so immature for laughing about that.

    “Prior to September 1959, Playboy did not ask Playmates to complete Data Sheets. ” — Official Playmate Directory (extremely exceedingly not at all safe for work unless you want to get fired and then SET ON fire if you have a female boss)

    I assume it was a fake name and the real details of the model are lost to the ages, which is a shame because she has a kind of genuine, athletic, self-deprecating charm that lacks in a lot of these faux-coy pinups. If you know anything about her, holler.

    Quelle surprise.

    October 6, 2009

    I got another writing project. This one a) is legit-illegitimate, where I have to straightforward plagiarize and cannot delude myself the person needs the help or is using this as a model paper or some folklore, and b) has some whiff of the racysauce to boot. Double ooh!

    Cheezits, I don’t even like being bad, this is me putting an upbeat face on it. Well…I can’t say the topic is the worst thing ever in my book, I admit.


    Alternative Secretary poster design by Dawn Patrol on the IMP awards website.

    So, yes, I came home from the SJ trip with Miss D and, after meeting up with Paolo at Chevy’s for some strategy and relaxation (gown is safe and sound in the actual town where the wedding will be, one less care on the list this week, thank god!), I got back to the ol’ compy and found I’d won a bid on a paper for which I’d forgotten even devising a quote. Got all those dogs in the fire, stanimal, I keep saying so, and a few other frankly distracting things swirling around me.

    Quelle surprise: the topic is masochism. SS Funtimes, ahoy!

    Music Moment: Basia Bulat (repost now with functioning video!)

    September 25, 2009

    I did this a week or two ago, but that version of the video has since been taken down. Here it is again. The whole damned post, in fact, just with a live link to a functioning video.

    Basia Bulat is a great new artist with a great and modestly excellent album, check her OUT!

    (If you are an impatient person with a short attention span like myself, let the video buffer and then skip straight to around 2:30 cause that’s where it gets awesome.)

    “Sometime now I’ve been
    afraid that the pilgriming vine is
    Finally coming to take me
    Taste it and tell me it’s savoury
    Hold it up high to the light and
    Let it grow and
    Tell me I’m always your only
    Never look down mother maple…” –Basia Bulat, “The Pilgriming Vine,” Oh, My Darling.


    Buy this kickass album directly from Beggars Group, the distributors of Rough Trade records, and consider that you could, if you wanted, stop going to Amazon.com and maybe buy directly from labels from now on because they and their artists will see more money. It is your call and I am not telling you how to live your life, but in most cases the artist is going to see more money and the label, and thus music, will stay afloat longer. Unless it’s a major label. Then eff ’em.