Forniphalia

I can't remember the exact first image that captured what i'd been murmuring deeply inside, but when i came across Mr. Gord's thorough exposition on the transformation of girls into furniture, i knew i'd found an ally, a beacon. As i navigated through the rivulets of his well-groomed caverns, i encountered all variables one could attempt with the female form. Yet, instead of being appalled, every arrangement that had the female form as some functional, but ornamentally gorgeous inanimate object captivated me. This is wrong, isn't it? Shouldn't i be confronted by columns of feministic bodyguards whose sole purpose is to eradicate the objectification of the feminine physicality? It's been well over 10 years since i first set eyes on this genre, and no such confrontation has occurred.

Perhaps, there won't be one. Perhaps those forces that seek to disavow any association between the female form and an ornamental item recognizes that those who practice this art are offering the ultimate honor and respect to the double-Xed chromosone.

After all, centuries of art have obsessively lingered on the female form, using the various iterations of womanhood as guides and stencils for creative outlet. It seems to make natural sense that instead of employing oil paints or marble to create works of art, borrowing the very anatomy that has inspired masterpieces and appropriating it as the medium through which one would express their utmost respect for women fits a natural progression of artistic auteurism.

Still crazy, isn't it? I mean, who are these people who think they can get away with turning a gorgeous girl into an office chair? Can't they see the complete disrespect and worse, damage they are doing to the cause of equality between the sexes (i've addressed this argument at an earlier time)? Let us not even address those females who wander willingly into the clutches of such an individual; nothing shall we say about their brainwashing, their ignorance, their betrayal.

I gave all of these thoughts some air to float around and expand inside my head. As much as a stubborn and somewhat chauvinistic man i can tend to be, i like to think of myself as open and intelligent. I'd do myself and those who oppose this form of expression a disservice if i didn't delve a little deeper.

In doing so, i came to learn that House of Gord is not the originator of this form of female manipulation. In fact, with just a little exploration, one can find numerous examples, emanating from every decade of the last century.

Here's some of what i found:

A classic Edward Stanton illustration...and an advert for Vollers Corsets.

To my surprise, i was able to find examples of forniphilia with my favorite director, Stanley Kubrick, in his film A Clockwork Orange:


I even was able to find an image of Ms Dita Von Teese, doing her best barmaid impression.


Ultimately, i cannot claim to understand or even concur with the positions that the individuals who imposed upon these above female figures their plasticine visions. They could come from a completely different school of thought than i. When i see these photos, when i contemplate the transformation of an already stunning beauty into an object of static existence, i feel a well of pleasure bubble up inside of me. I've wanted to collect and capture as much beauty as possible ever since at the age of five i pinned my first butterfly to the small cake of Styrofoam. I really do not have the faculties to address whether or not this desire is doing harm to the fairer sex that i lust and fantasize about so frequently. I can only assume that for me, damage is not being done, and in fact pure, uninhibited worship happens.

Egalité

I find some of my most productive discussions with my girl regarding our power exchange tend to occur during our morning routine of breakfast. It could be that we've had nothing of the real world actively pressing on us for the duration of our slumber, thus freeing our minds to comfortably explore the topic. It could be the soft light of the morning that spills into our dining foyer that eases the conversation along, like the first incubating warmth of a mother hen as she sits on her darling little eggs. Or perhaps it's the act of breaking our fast, the comfort of being once again part of the collective waking that happens around this city - all over a cup of coffee and some toast.

Whatever factors play into this phenomenon, i look forward to the real progress her and i tend to make during these conversations. A few weeks back, a discussion that has often come up, dribbled back into the porous but sound foundation of our power exchange. We'd prattled in a playful way about how corset season was rapidly approaching. The weather was slowly releasing its grip on its romance with the tropics, giving way to a crisper peel in the air, and i had indicated that it was starting to be time where she would need to lace everyday. She objected, citing the still high level of humidity, which despite the air temperature, makes binding a thick corset around one's mid-section akin to a localized trip to the tropics. I chided her, asking where my resilient girl had gone and who was this easily discouraged creature in her place. She rebutted my efforts at cajolery with a simple oral intake of her upper lip, sucking on it between her teeth.

Now, as the dominant, it is my job (one of many) to push, challenge, and expand the frontiers of our intimate connection. I have many tools i can use to perform this role. But, this is not a simple-minded role, one made without reflection, study or observation. I'm not merely pushing a round stone to the edge of an embankment, searching for that final point right before it tilts its weight into a freefall below. A thousand factors differentiate my girl from a boulder. I must account for these, or risk pushing too far by simply being an ass.

"You know, Cathie Jung laces every day."

She looked at me, with her chin on the back of her hand, blinking one long drawn out shutter of her eyes. I saw i hadn't been effective. Further, i had to push further.

"I've no doubt that Dita would tough it out."

I didn't even need to check to see if my attempt had successfully motivated her. I could tell by the sensation of daggers at my throat that came from her icy stare what she thought of that remark. I looked anyway. Yep, i'd gone too far.

My girl is incredibly competitive, insisting on many avenues at being the best and most accomplished. Parading into our discussion two icons in the field of tightlacing who have the resources and daily accoutrements to comfortably tackle their goal squeezed the last bit of playfulness out of our exchange. I saw what i'd done. But, i hadn't anticipated the turn the dialogue would take.

She remained in her seat, but i could tell that only her body was present. Her mind had lifted her torso up and walked into the other room out of pride. The specter of silence hovered in the air above us, holding still all objects that would seem to move autonomously on their own: the sunbeams arching in through the window, the hands of the wall clock hanging in the living room. I asked her for her thoughts.

"Why do you insist on us being unequal?"

Excuse me? I had expected a complaint about my stubborn views regarding her intolerance of a swampy torso, but this was deeper than i had even envisioned. But, immediately, i saw what she was after. In absorbing my egotistical push for as much as i could get, she'd found herself examining what she felt was a disparity in our exchange. I ask, i shove, i demand...where does she ever get to exact this same toll?

This theme has come up many times in my life. They will struggle with the unending give they are asked for, seeing the direction in the vector that passes between us, and perceive that it is only one way. I've discussed this with my girl many times, when she encounters concerns that her behavior indicates weakness, and even ineptitude. Because this is not a new topic, testing the quality of our power exchange, i employ a tactic not previously considered.

"Do you want a cock?"

"A what?"

"A cock."

I'm not asking her if she craves the sensation of her various orifices filled with my male anatomy. I'm asking if she wants a large penetrating member hanging down between her legs instead of the beautiful petals that blossom there now.

"No. Of course not."

"Then why ask for equality?"

I say this with two things in mind. The first being that equality, as it is being defined here, is largely impossible. Secondly, why is equality so important?

I'll address the first notion, that equality cannot fit in a power exchange, and i'll do so by examining the pure physicality of this arrangement. I have often seen my manifestation in this exchange as the plug, and she as the outlet. I implant my prongs into her slots, and she provides the energy that powers our mechanism. What is equal about that? Without her, the flow never initiates, yet it cannot occur without me penetrating her, somehow, some way. What goes often overlooked is the natural anatomy (and what in the early days of my venture into SM that had me convinced that all girls are submissive) that exists between the two of us. In order for us to copulate, i must enter her, she must accept me, take me in. Regardless of how you choose to look at this, equality can never be established. Which leads me to my second point.

What is so great about equality? Simply, i choose to treat my girl whenever i can. I never look for her to catch up with me. Whenever we are out on a shopping venture (not as common an activity as it may seem), i can assure you that 80% or more of that is dedicated to perfecting her wardrobe or getting something that either one or both of us are obsessed with her having.

I understand what her message is. She struggles sometimes with the notion that her whole life she has chosen for herself how to live, look and act and now finds herself in a situation where a large percentage of that is decided for her. She sometimes feels guilty that she is betraying the morals and standards she feels she was raised with, and other times experiences remorse that she's able to live a life she'd always fantasized about.

For me, i'm too busy enjoying myself to really evaluate who is ahead and who is behind.

How to make a pin-up girl

Ms. Dita Von Teese, the poster girl of this here journal.

On any given weekday during the summer, i could be found not rummaging through the tall reeds and pussy willows of the creek that ran behind my house, but instead stationed on a stool at the liquor store my grandmother managed for over 40 years. The things that seared themselves into my memory were the constants of this kind, senior matriarch perpetually behooved in heels and the tabloid-sized illustrations of 50's pin-up girls hung all over her back office as well as adorning her boudoir. I spent many a glossamer-veiled afternoon quietly watching the intricate and ornate rituals she undertook to achieve her own ressemblance to those sex idols matting her walls. It would only be once i was an adult, and making demands that my intimate partners prepare themselves similarly that i would realize the sizzling affection i had for the pin-ups.

We want to look, but we don't want to stare at gorgeous girls. That would be rude. Whereas, these girls didn't mind. In fact, they invited the stare, which for me made it much more safe, an open venue for me to gawk and gaze. I didn't need to pretend that i was or wasn't interested. My attraction could be met face-on as i studied the humorous and playful poses these girls accomplished, who in turn didn't seem turned off by the idea that someone was leering at them or turning them into a sexual object. I didn't seriously expect that any female would allow me to demand the look and feel to their appearance. I was as surprised as many of you may be that i live that reality. Yet, i can't quite put into words what it is like to create your very own, breathing, thriving pin-up, and i do know not a day passes without me blessing and praising the powers above that allow me this exquisite fantasy.

Now, let's begin.

The best place to start are to look at two of the masters at the art of pin-ups for inspiration. Mr. Gil Elvgren is one of the most famous of all pin-up illustrators and you can quickly see why. His drawings are candid, they catch their subject in a moment of surprise. But they are also flattering. They charm the girl by framing her in soft and inviting light. I've included a clever site that delves deeper into Gil's pinups and and his infatuation with celery.

Another one of my favorites is Alberto Vargas. His calendar currently hangs in my kitchen (right over the garbage can, just like my grandma used to do). His has a refinement that contrasts slightly with Gil's. His girls are almost more universal, more elegiac, and less personable. But this adds an element of class that holds these ladies on a very high and well-deserved pedestal.

Now, those of you who are looking to attain the look of a classic pin-up, i've listed a few places where you can begin to amass your wardrobe. And for those who've decided to keep reading (when instead of the nasty threesomes you'd hoped to find, you stumbled upon this thesis), i encourage you to also peruse the list. You may experience some inspiration to persuade your favorite gal to slide on some silk stockings. I assure you she'll thank you for them.

Daddy O's
One of my favorite online clothing stores. I could easily waste my bi-weekly payroll on over 40 or more of these frocks. Their cut, their lines, their skirts, the details, the shape. These dresses exude class and femininity. A girl can truly not go wrong to have at least one of these hanging in her cabana.

Agent (pronounced: Ah-jahnt)
If you have the opportunity to ever walk into one of Agent Provocateurs boutiques, the wave of scent that washes over you alone gives you a sensation of developing a crush. Everything they do at AP is about femininity. You will not see anything made of cotton here. No. Females deserve to have the finest silks and laces pressed against their skin, cradling their tushes, holding their soft tits. This is a store that believes lingerie shouldn't be just for honeymoons and anniversaries. Their stockings are durable and they come in all kinds of colors and differing constrast seams. Plus, they have a very naughty side. I adore their black silk blindfold that reads "Treat me like the whore i am" in pink cursive across the front of it

Secrets in Lace
SiL is another wonderful lingerie store. I can't emphasize enough the importance of a good pin-up girl's foundation undergarments. Countless times i've seen the change that occurs in a girl wearing a garter belt, seamed silk stockings and a pair of heels. They walk with express intent and focus. It's like they're armored. SiL carries an exclusive line of stockings designed and worn by Ms. Dita. My girl says that Secrets' stockings offer the most comfortable and divine feeling, but they do not last as long as AP's.

What Katie Did
I offer you one last site on lingerie just to demonstrate the plethora of options that exist. Katie offers vintage stockings, for those who are going for an authentic look, style and feel. Wonderful garments can be found here.

Besame Cosmetics
If you're beginning to think i'm a little overly obsessed with the way a girl looks, you're finally catching on. Besame isn't for everyone, but it is for the girl who wants to truly take on the overall appearance of a pin-up. They understand the appeal of classic beauty and provide numerous, charming options.

Staylace Updates and Pinups are well worth a look
I would be errant in my list if i didn't offer the mother of all corset sites. The Long Island Staylace Association (LISA) was my first jaw-dropping exposure to the array of corset-related media. In addition to providing you with images of females draped in corsets (and swear that they update daily), they also provide a tremendous resource list for corsetiers. I am a firm believer in the transformative and beneficial effect a well-made tightlacing device can have on a girl's attitude.

Whether you merely peek at a few of these links, or you seriously consider indulging in a purchase here or there, you have to admit that the pin-up girl has her allure and her flair. In one refined image, they capture the sighs, the throbs, the tugs and the thrills i've experienced when i've seen a pretty girl.

But, don't let me be the final thought on this. Go to the gal i see as the authority on the subject, Ms Kitty du Vert.

What sites have you memorized?

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