Each Friday, your Crap Archivist brings you the finest in forgotten and bewildering crap culled from Golden State basements, thrift stores, estate sales, and flea markets.
Love Magazine, March 1977
Publisher: G.W.D. Publications, New York
Discovered at: KAYO Books, 814 Post Street
The Cover Promises: "Loneliness Can Save Your Life"; "The New (Sophisticated) Adultery"; "How One Woman Learned to Love Her Diaphragm"
"A real treasure is our large scrapbook filled with pornographic photographs of people who are now famous Hollywood stars. Some of the big names featured, not to mention the breast and genital dimensions of your favorite stars, would surprise you!" (From "The Secret Vice of the Happy Housewife," page 53)
Good news, ladies of America! At last here's an explanation for why all those men you date and bring back to your apartment suddenly dash away without attempting to paw at your pawables. Turns out, it's not you, it's your bathroom!
That's according to "Joanna Star"'s remarkable article "Super Sensual Bathroom Playground," which in all seriousness proposes that the room where you do your business should also be the room where you do your pleasure. Here's what Star calls "bathroom pizazz.":
Your john should have beaded curtains, nude photos of yourself, Burt Reynolds from that Cosmo centerfold, and a bear that lost a staring contest with a steamroller.
Or why not purchase a Victrola and a shower-curtain tribute to bacteria?
Those are just the thing to set the mood as your Gumby man pretzels his legs for you.
Seriously, Starr writes about trying to hook up with a guy who seemed excited to be invited up to her place. She writes, "I had planned everything down to the last detail. The candles were lit, Joni Mitchell was on the stereo, and the new beef recipe I tried for the first time worked beautifully."
An "electric" mood developed. But then the man used her restroom and quickly jetted home after that -- before 10 p.m. That's when Starr understood:
"I saw my bathroom as a potential lover would: cold, hospital-white tile and enamel glared in the harsh fluorescent light; the tub ringed with soap; and scattered in disarray were shampoo bottles, assorted brushes, and a can of Comet."
I can speak for all men on this subject: There is no greater turn-off than the knowledge that women possess and use cleaning products.
So, Starr dedicated herself to making her bathroom "a sexual playground." Apparently, this involved getting rid of the toilet:
And what if you don't have the wherewithal to turn your home's smallest room into a pasha's harem room? Then try out the '70s' most advanced media technology!
Love was a digest-sized sex-advice magazine for women. It offered much silliness like the above as well as Q&A columns, I-couldn't-believe-this-happened-to-me hardcore letters from people we're supposed to believe are readers, and -- in this issue -- a helpful piece about how Americans could eat less sugar.
There's an article detailing the porn-sharing habits of a housewife and her husband: erotic Chinese woodcuts, Swedish films screened via projector in the bedroom, and the "racy" writings of Benjamin Franklin and Mark Twain -- which only sounds weird until you realize that most famous American pen name does refer to depth sounding.
There are weirdly specific horoscopes:
"Aries: (Mar. 21 - Apr. 19): Resumption of your charming flirtations attracts a graphically sexual Scorpio who delights in teaching you just how intense a love alliance can be. The middle of March puts you back into gear and you zap those overpowering feelings of lust and cultivate an earthy Taurean admirer who turns up at an impromptu party."
Here's some solid advice from an article titled "Memo to Dr. Strangelove ... Or How I Learned to love My Diaphragm":
"Forget all the fancy insertion positions you've heard about. A foot on the floor and a foot on the toilet is the only way."
"Build up good feelings about your diaphragm. If you hate it, it will give you reasons to hate it."
Yes, a diaphragm is exactly like an angry father announcing, "I'll give you something to cry about."
While targeted at women, Love was not above encouraging male fantasy.
Unfortunately, that article offered no tips on how exactly women can teach themselves to perch like a half-naked Spider-Man atop a flagpole.
I think this is where they got the idea for Mannequin.
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