Author Topic: Recommended website  (Read 7855 times)


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Re: Recommended website
« Reply #15 on: August 24, 2016, 01:08:03 AM »
I once worked with a woman that had danced with them in Paris and here. She said they have very strict rules about the physical requirements, height, figure measurements etc. Their intent was to create a almost perfect line of women of all the same features.

Add to that the costume, which made them all look the same, and you end up with a long line of synchronized legs and boobs. She said the headdress they wore was pretty heavy and took a lot of practice to move so that it didn't fall off.

Seen from that perspective, the whole thing was kind of odd.

I agree with your assessment. Vive la difference



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Re: Recommended website
« Reply #16 on: August 24, 2016, 08:47:38 PM »
I was just about to turn 13 in a couple of months. We were about to leave Paris, and were staying in an old in-town hotel. The night before, I had caused the entire hotel to be awakened, and the door broken into, because I didn’t awaken to the noise and knocking as my parents returned. I was supposed to let them in. The old place only had one key.

The folks wanted to see the Follies one last time. It was decided that I was old enough to go with them. It was after all art, they said. Have I made clear the subtle decision making compromises and justifications? I was seen with new light as mature and promoted by necessity.

I sat somewhere about fourth row centered, dad wanted to see the art up close. The young budding boy got a kick out of his new unsheltered privilege. “Wait until the guys hear about this,” was cancelled. I had already had to say good-bye to my friends.

I watched my first actual moving nude bodies and of course, the nude ballet. I realized that bodies were fascinating to watch. I pondered why the star wasn’t as Playboy beautiful as the others. When it was a memory, I treated my response as “mature” and “art” and then, I overheard my dad telling a friend that, “Yea, we were close enough to see the pubic hairs,” which was my observation and sentiment. “Oh boy,” did I think that that was a sexy treat, but I kept my cool.

Saturated by old European art for several years prior, I had grown to know how to separate the sex and the humanity and art of the nude body, but there was a continuing confusion of any black and white demarcations. American culture dominated my outlook after that, until I had a shower with my girlfriend at 16. I then discovered a wholesomeness that I was not aware of. It ultimately took the experience of social nudity to come to realistic terms, which was later, during the late 1960’s early 1970’s.
Barefoot all over, all over.