The End of Civilization as We Know It….
August 31, 2006
Warner Home Video holds a poll for the release of films on DVD every year. Among the winners of this year\’s DVD Decision was Gymkata. The voluptuous horror of Gymkata. This is a movie that is transcendently awful, one that I never dreamed would make the leap to DVD. And yet, here it is. Not only that, but apparently it was the top vote-getter! The end surely cometh nigh.
Ah, for a misspent youth. In a period of two years, I saw such cinematic attrocities in movie theaters the likes of which haven\’t been seen since. Red Sonja? I saw it at a drive-in in South Dakota paired with Conan the Destroyer. Supergirl? In a tiny theater in Warrensburg, Missouri. Breakin\’ 2: Electric Boogaloo? Check. Alas…they don\’t make \’em like they used to…
But Gymkata was the creme de la creme. There\’s nothing quite like watching Kurt Thomas gymkata eight hundred guys in the middle of a town square in Fake-istan on a big sculpture that just HAPPENS to look like a pommel horse. This is a movie that goes on the short list of martial arts movies that have the potential to break the minds of even the toughest cinematic adventurers, along with Kill…and Kill Again (in which the villain is making mind control juice out of potatoes) and Crippled Masters (which is the Freaks of martial arts movies). It\’s a film that stands as a rebuke to those people who think the latest cinematic disappointment is the \”worst…movie…ever…\” because, really, they only know the suburbs of bad. Gymkata is right smack downtown in the center of bad, in an area of bad where you take your life in your hands if you step out of the car.
It disturbs me that I want this DVD. It disturbs me a lot, actually. There\’s a fine line between cinematic obsession and masochism, I suspect, and when I get this disc and watch the movie in all its widescreen glory, I\’m sure to have what alcoholics call a moment of clarity: \”Why am I wasting my life like this?\” I will surely ask myself, knowing all the while that I can\’t really help myself. But then they\’ll get to that pommel horse, and I\’ll understand why…
Enjoy.
The End of Civilization as We Know It….
August 31, 2006
Warner Home Video holds a poll for the release of films on DVD every year. Among the winners of this year\’s DVD Decision was Gymkata. The voluptuous horror of Gymkata. This is a movie that is transcendently awful, one that I never dreamed would make the leap to DVD. And yet, here it is. Not only that, but apparently it was the top vote-getter! The end surely cometh nigh.
Ah, for a misspent youth. In a period of two years, I saw such cinematic attrocities in movie theaters the likes of which haven\’t been seen since. Red Sonja? I saw it at a drive-in in South Dakota paired with Conan the Destroyer. Supergirl? In a tiny theater in Warrensburg, Missouri. Breakin\’ 2: Electric Boogaloo? Check. Alas…they don\’t make \’em like they used to…
But Gymkata was the creme de la creme. There\’s nothing quite like watching Kurt Thomas gymkata eight hundred guys in the middle of a town square in Fake-istan on a big sculpture that just HAPPENS to look like a pommel horse. This is a movie that goes on the short list of martial arts movies that have the potential to break the minds of even the toughest cinematic adventurers, along with Kill…and Kill Again (in which the villain is making mind control juice out of potatoes) and Crippled Masters (which is the Freaks of martial arts movies). It\’s a film that stands as a rebuke to those people who think the latest cinematic disappointment is the \”worst…movie…ever…\” because, really, they only know the suburbs of bad. Gymkata is right smack downtown in the center of bad, in an area of bad where you take your life in your hands if you step out of the car.
It disturbs me that I want this DVD. It disturbs me a lot, actually. There\’s a fine line between cinematic obsession and masochism, I suspect, and when I get this disc and watch the movie in all its widescreen glory, I\’m sure to have what alcoholics call a moment of clarity: \”Why am I wasting my life like this?\” I will surely ask myself, knowing all the while that I can\’t really help myself. But then they\’ll get to that pommel horse, and I\’ll understand why…
Enjoy.
The “Suck” Button…
August 29, 2006
There’s a great Far Side cartoon in which the guy manning the sound board for a band suddenly hits the “suck” button. I felt like that this weekend when I decided to go to a movie. Normally, I can sit through almost anything, but as I stood before the box-office at my local multiplex, I realized that someone in Hollywood had hit the “suck” button for summer movies. I didn’t want to see ANY of the choices offered for my movie-going pleasure, except, perhaps for a repeat viewing of The Descent. Only problem: The Descent was only showing two hours later and I didn’t feel like paying full price for it. Ultimately, I chose to walk away.
This weekend doesn’t get much better. There’s the remake of The Wicker Man and Crank, the new Jason Statham film–itself a cross between Speed and D.O.A. I’m mildly interested in both–I’m certainly more interested in them than I am in the latest Disney sports movie or Will Farrell “comedy”–but I’m enthusiastic about neither. Certainly not at full price.
And Hollywood wonders why admissions are down.
On the other hand, our local arthouse is showing The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, a Romanian movie about…well…the death of Mr. Lazarescu at the hands of medical bureaucracy. Sounds like the feel-good movie of the summer!
Alas…
Happy Birthday, Ray Bradbury…
August 23, 2006
Mr. Bradbury is 86 today. I have a lot of favorite Bradbury stories: “The Jar,” “The Small Assassin,” “There Shall Come Soft Rains,” “The Foghorn,” “Mars is Heaven,” “The Sound of Thunder,” and dozens of others. Many of my favorite Bradbury stories are found in The October Country, which opens with one of my very favorite Bradbury-isms:
The sickest Bradbury story, “The Handler,” is NOT in The October Country and was long unavailable. I believe that it’s available in The Vintage Bradbury, but I find that this story is best read in the adaptation for E. C. Comics, drawn by “Ghastly” Graham Ingels.
Bradbury figures into my first brush with the internet, too. One of my first discoveries was the book search engines. One of the first books I found on these engines was a first edition of Bradbury’s Dark Carnival. Mind you, there were only 500 of these, but this one was special. It was inscribed by the author: “To my friend, Bill Faulkner. Best regards, Ray.” For a cool $3600, it could have been mine. The scary thing is…I would have bought it if I’d had the cash. Alas…
The Halloween Horror Movie Challenge
August 22, 2006
Okay. Enough angsty transgendered stuff. On to something fun…
Halloween is still a couple of months off, but October is looming on the calendar soon. Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time should know that I’m nuts about movies. In particular, I’m nuts about horror movies. (I’ll kindly overlook those of you who may think I’m just nuts).
Last year, one of the movie message boards on which I post held a horror movie challenge: for the month of October, participants were asked to watch and report on at least one horror movie a day for the month of October. Now, they didn’t have to be watched once a day, but the goal was to watch and comment on at least 31 horror movies. The kicker is that at least half of them–16 movies–must be movies you’ve never seen before. That requirement was nearly my undoing last year–I’ve been over-fishing the waters for years–but I somehow muddled through. You can watch MORE than 31 horror movies. Indeed you are encouraged to watch more.
In other words: I’m throwing down the gauntlet. I know some of the people on my friends list love horror movies. So how about it. Are you a (wo)men or mice? Huh? I thought so….
DVD companies are going to make things easy, too. In the next two months, we have a bevy of films due out in time for Halloween, including:
Let’s Scare Jessica to Death–long unavailable, one of the best gothics of the early seventies.
The Other–another creepy early seventies gothic.
Pretty Poison–which puts a bland, attractive face on monstrosity and puts it in the suburbs.
Hollywood’s Legends of Horror Collection (Doctor X / The Return of Doctor X / Mad Love / The Devil Doll / Mark of the Vampire / The Mask of Fu Manchu) –See Humphrey Bogart in a horror movie! Karloff! Lugosi! Peter Lorre! It doesn’t get better than this.
The Boris Karloff Collection (Night Key (1937) , Tower of London (1939) , The Climax (1944) , The Strange Door (1951) , The Black Castle (1952))–not primo Karloff, but Karloff made everything better by his very presence. I’ve only seen two of these movies.
The Inner Sanctum Mysteries Complete Movie Collection (Calling Dr. Death (1943) , Weird Woman (1944), Dead Man’s Eyes (1944) , The Frozen Ghost (1945), Strange Confession (1945) , Pillow of Death (1945) )–Most of these star Lon Chaney, Jr. I’ve seen three of them. Not masterpieces by any means, but fun b-movies for those who have a taste for them.
The Woods–the long-overdue follow-up to Lucky McKee’s May, this has Bruce freakin’ Campbell in the cast. How can you lose?
And bunches of others.
So those of you who like to face your fears on the television screen (0r better still, a movie theater, if you can manage it), the gauntlet is thrown, the runes have been passed, the game is on…so start planning now.
Diminishing Returns
August 19, 2006
I’m abandoning laser electrolysis after four sessions. On the one hand, my beard IS noticably thinner than it used to be–perhaps even permanently so–but I can’t afford the periodic outlay and I’m beginning to have too many gray and white hairs. I made an appointment with a traditional electrologist for next week. I mentioned that I had developed these hairs and she suggested that the laser itself may have been partially to blame. This was a new one on me, though I’m not surprised by it. If the laser is absorbed by melanin–which it is–it stands to reason that hairs that aren’t killed by the laser will lose their color. Mind you, I’m 39 now, so it may also be the aging process. Regardless of the reason, these are hairs that are going to have to be killed with a needle even if I stick with the laser, so I’m moving to that step now.
The economics of electro are daunting, but the more I look at it, the more I think that the needle may be for me. As a practical matter, I realize that the laser and the needle cost more or less the same in the long term, but the cash outlay for an hour of laser is considerably more than for an hour of the needle, and lately, there always seems to be a crisis requiring me to blow the cash I’ve set aside for the laser. I estimate that it will take me two to three years to eliminate my beard with the needle. Monetarily, it’s a small drop at a time rather than a big drop at a time. I can do that. Beyond that, I have an assurance that the needle is permanent. The laser people have told me that it is permanent, too–and it may well be–but they can’t state that this is so categorically, and that niggling doubt persists at the back of my mind. I’ve spent $1600 on the laser so far and I’m nowhere near where I’d like to be for that amount of money. So the I’m abandoning it. And I can’t say I wasn’t warned, either. Here’s a piece of advice from Andrea James’s excellent TS Roadmap site, which I’ve visited many times over the last half-decade:
Fortunately for me, the cost hasn’t been crippling to me and I don’t regret it–particularly if the laser proves to have thinned my beard to the point where my time estimates err on the side of excess–but I do think about the time I may have lost. I’m not getting any younger. Just look at the gray hairs in my beard!
Heavy Rotation: Desert Island Edition
August 18, 2006
Here\’s what I\’ve been listening to lately. For the most part, I\’ve been sticking with old friends, albums that I probably couldn\’t do without.
Big Star: #1 Record/Radio City–sometimes described as \”the missing link between The Beatles and The Velvet Underground.\” I don\’t know about all of that, but Big Star remains the most influential band no one has ever heard of. Their fingers are all over the college radio pop of the 80s and 90s, from R.E.M. to the Lemonheads, and more. They even had a brush with Top 40 when the Bangles covered \”September Gurls\” on \”Different Light.\” This disc compiles their first two albums, and they sound way more contemporary today than they did in 1972.
Tube City: The Best of the Trashmen–Everyone\’s heard about the bird. Bird bird bird, the bird is the word. Papa Umau mau, papa umau ma mau.
Bloodshot Eyes: The Best of Wynonie Harris–Harris, largely forgotten now, was arguably the first king of rock and roll. Listening to these ribald proto-rock and roll songs, it\’s easy to see why white suburbia was so threatened by it. It\’s okay if the darkies rut to this music in juke joints, but when white teen agers started to get hip to it…well, we can\’t have that, now, can we. Feh. The racism of moral crusaders continues to astound me. In any event, these songs are nothing but fun. Favorite title: \”Keep on Churnin\’ (Till the Butter Comes).\” Favorite lyrics (from \”Good Morning, Judge\”):
The other night I went to town with lil ol Lucy Brown,
We went to all the honky tonks, we really got around.
Five foot two with eyes of blue and pretty as a queen,
I didn\’t know her pop was a city cop and she was just fifteen!
Good morning, Judge. Why do you look so mean?
And Mister Judge, what can the charges be?
The Ramones: Rocket to Russia –Speaking of the Surfin\’ Bird…this is the best album the Ramones ever cut. Each two minute song a mini-masterpiece of four-chord punk rock attitude. Their version of \”Do You Wanna Dance?\” is a marvel of pop re-invention. \”Sheena is a Punk Rocker\” is the most significant single ever to climb to 96 on the Billboard charts. We all need to give thanks for the Ramones. If not for them, rock and roll would have consumed itself with classical pretensions and spandex fashion attrocities.
Johnny Cash: Live at Folsom Prison–Possibly the greatest live album ever recorded. Possibly. Many of the songs found herein sound stiff in their studio versions–certainly, \”Folsom Prison Blues\” comes alive in this rendition (\”I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die…\”). Here, every song is a gem, the stuff of high tragedy. Death, rebirth, fall and redemption. Everything.
Curtis Mayfield: Superfly (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)–Another glimpse of the underbelly of the American Dream, from the other side of the racial divide. The movie from which this soundtrack is culled is a troubling and irresponsible political document, which the soundtrack refutes at every turn. There\’s not another soundtrack like it. A bad trip in the aftermath of the Civil Rights movement, this music, one with a hell of a hook from the rhythm section.
One Kiss Can Lead To Another: Girl Groups Lost and Found–I\’m a sucker for girl groups from the sixties and this compilation is massive. Avoiding well known chestnuts like \”Leader of the Pack\” or \”Please Mister Postman,\” this delves into the depth and breadth of girl groups, famous and obscure. Delirous romanticism placed side by side with infectious pop songsmithing, the whole thing is candy. It even comes in a stylish hatbox.
Vampyros Lesbos: Sexadelic Dance Party (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)–Another soundtrack from the early seventies. The movie, a Jess Franco attrocity, begs the question: how can a movie with THAT much kinky lesbian sex and that much lesbian nudity and a soundtrack THIS cool be so goddamn boring? But that\’s Franco for you, proving himself once again to be the most incompetent director in Europe. Fortunately, the availability of the soundtrack as a separate entity is a mercy. Lounge music on acid, is the best way to describe this.
Parliament: Mothership Connection — Give up the funk and tear the roof off the motherfucker. Though the song itself isn\’t on this disc, this is yet another platter that suggests that if you free your mind, your ass will follow. A friend of mine once speculated that you had to score in the 1500s on the rhythm SATs to play with George Clinton (by contrast, you\’d have to score about a 20 to play with the Sex Pistols, and you\’d have to ace it to play with James Brown).
The Rolling Stones: Exile On Main Street — The Stones never bought into the notion that all you need is love, and even before the sixties ended, they were already writing their coda. By the time this album appeared, disillusion had begun to set in. This album is a musical hangover of murky guitar licks and murkier lyrics.
P. J. Harvey: To Bring You My Love – This is what you might get if you crossed Patti Smith with Ennio Morricone: Horses by way of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly if you like. An existential portrait of love in the wastlands, this album, in which Polly Jean\’s voice soars and screeches like the whirlwind. An elemental force of nature.
Mekons: Rock n Roll — In which punk rock\’s greatest failures again assault the citadel of rock and roll. What the Clash might have sounded like if they hadn\’t gotten famous and hadn\’t broken up, the Mekons even failed to flame out like any respectable punk band. This is a great album for all that, drenched in punk\’s negation of the conventions of pop music all the while wrapped in great pop hooks. I can listen to Sally Timms\’s voice any day of the week.
Enjoy.
Heavy Rotation: Desert Island Edition
August 18, 2006
Here\’s what I\’ve been listening to lately. For the most part, I\’ve been sticking with old friends, albums that I probably couldn\’t do without.
Big Star: #1 Record/Radio City–sometimes described as \”the missing link between The Beatles and The Velvet Underground.\” I don\’t know about all of that, but Big Star remains the most influential band no one has ever heard of. Their fingers are all over the college radio pop of the 80s and 90s, from R.E.M. to the Lemonheads, and more. They even had a brush with Top 40 when the Bangles covered \”September Gurls\” on \”Different Light.\” This disc compiles their first two albums, and they sound way more contemporary today than they did in 1972.
Tube City: The Best of the Trashmen–Everyone\’s heard about the bird. Bird bird bird, the bird is the word. Papa Umau mau, papa umau ma mau.
Bloodshot Eyes: The Best of Wynonie Harris–Harris, largely forgotten now, was arguably the first king of rock and roll. Listening to these ribald proto-rock and roll songs, it\’s easy to see why white suburbia was so threatened by it. It\’s okay if the darkies rut to this music in juke joints, but when white teen agers started to get hip to it…well, we can\’t have that, now, can we. Feh. The racism of moral crusaders continues to astound me. In any event, these songs are nothing but fun. Favorite title: \”Keep on Churnin\’ (Till the Butter Comes).\” Favorite lyrics (from \”Good Morning, Judge\”):
The other night I went to town with lil ol Lucy Brown,
We went to all the honky tonks, we really got around.
Five foot two with eyes of blue and pretty as a queen,
I didn\’t know her pop was a city cop and she was just fifteen!
Good morning, Judge. Why do you look so mean?
And Mister Judge, what can the charges be?
The Ramones: Rocket to Russia –Speaking of the Surfin\’ Bird…this is the best album the Ramones ever cut. Each two minute song a mini-masterpiece of four-chord punk rock attitude. Their version of \”Do You Wanna Dance?\” is a marvel of pop re-invention. \”Sheena is a Punk Rocker\” is the most significant single ever to climb to 96 on the Billboard charts. We all need to give thanks for the Ramones. If not for them, rock and roll would have consumed itself with classical pretensions and spandex fashion attrocities.
Johnny Cash: Live at Folsom Prison–Possibly the greatest live album ever recorded. Possibly. Many of the songs found herein sound stiff in their studio versions–certainly, \”Folsom Prison Blues\” comes alive in this rendition (\”I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die…\”). Here, every song is a gem, the stuff of high tragedy. Death, rebirth, fall and redemption. Everything.
Curtis Mayfield: Superfly (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)–Another glimpse of the underbelly of the American Dream, from the other side of the racial divide. The movie from which this soundtrack is culled is a troubling and irresponsible political document, which the soundtrack refutes at every turn. There\’s not another soundtrack like it. A bad trip in the aftermath of the Civil Rights movement, this music, one with a hell of a hook from the rhythm section.
One Kiss Can Lead To Another: Girl Groups Lost and Found–I\’m a sucker for girl groups from the sixties and this compilation is massive. Avoiding well known chestnuts like \”Leader of the Pack\” or \”Please Mister Postman,\” this delves into the depth and breadth of girl groups, famous and obscure. Delirous romanticism placed side by side with infectious pop songsmithing, the whole thing is candy. It even comes in a stylish hatbox.
Vampyros Lesbos: Sexadelic Dance Party (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)–Another soundtrack from the early seventies. The movie, a Jess Franco attrocity, begs the question: how can a movie with THAT much kinky lesbian sex and that much lesbian nudity and a soundtrack THIS cool be so goddamn boring? But that\’s Franco for you, proving himself once again to be the most incompetent director in Europe. Fortunately, the availability of the soundtrack as a separate entity is a mercy. Lounge music on acid, is the best way to describe this.
Parliament: Mothership Connection — Give up the funk and tear the roof off the motherfucker. Though the song itself isn\’t on this disc, this is yet another platter that suggests that if you free your mind, your ass will follow. A friend of mine once speculated that you had to score in the 1500s on the rhythm SATs to play with George Clinton (by contrast, you\’d have to score about a 20 to play with the Sex Pistols, and you\’d have to ace it to play with James Brown).
The Rolling Stones: Exile On Main Street — The Stones never bought into the notion that all you need is love, and even before the sixties ended, they were already writing their coda. By the time this album appeared, disillusion had begun to set in. This album is a musical hangover of murky guitar licks and murkier lyrics.
P. J. Harvey: To Bring You My Love – This is what you might get if you crossed Patti Smith with Ennio Morricone: Horses by way of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly if you like. An existential portrait of love in the wastlands, this album, in which Polly Jean\’s voice soars and screeches like the whirlwind. An elemental force of nature.
Mekons: Rock n Roll — In which punk rock\’s greatest failures again assault the citadel of rock and roll. What the Clash might have sounded like if they hadn\’t gotten famous and hadn\’t broken up, the Mekons even failed to flame out like any respectable punk band. This is a great album for all that, drenched in punk\’s negation of the conventions of pop music all the while wrapped in great pop hooks. I can listen to Sally Timms\’s voice any day of the week.
Enjoy.
The Waist-land
August 15, 2006
I\’m a corset fetishist, in case anyone reading this blog didn\’t know it. I love corsets. I\’ve spent a lot of money on corsetry over the years (more than I\’ve spent on all other clothing during the entire span of my lifetime truth be told). I LOVE the shape a good corset gives me. The corsets I own range from functional to elaborately beautiful. Some are cheap corsets I bought when I didn\’t know what I was looking for. Some are engineering marvels. My current favorite is this one:
I have another one just like it in black satin.
Over the years, I\’ve become very comfortable in corsets. While I\’m not a regular tightlacer, I\’ve gone for extended periods in them. I\’ve worn them to work. Many crossdressers are interested in corsetry, but most of them settle for the crappy \”corsets\” sold by Victoria\’s Secret or Fredericks of Hollywood. If you\’re interested in corsetry, please avoid these corsets. Not only will they not provide you with the kind of figure shaping you may want, they will wear out quickly. The only corset I ever bought from Fredericks lasted one night–I ripped out the grommets trying to lace it to where I wanted it. You may pay more for a good corset–you\’ll pay a LOT more for a REALLY good corset–but you\’ll more than recoup the difference if you wear it often. Good corsets don\’t wear out. The only way my corsets fall by the way side is if I change weight drastically from when I buy them. None of my good corsets have become so loose or so tight that I can\’t wear them, but my weight doesn\’t vary much unless I set out to specifically change it. Most of my \”good\” corsets are \”off the shelf\” and most corset enthusiasts will tell you that buying an off the shelf corset is a no no. I\’ve had good luck with mine–they are expensive Vollers corsets, mostly, that I bought at Skyscraper Heels in Chicago–but you will do better with a custom fit corset. I\’ve heard that many crossdressers have good luck with the ninety dollar model that Glamour Boutique sells, but I have no experience of it myself.
The reason this is on my mind is because I\’ve been having some fetish outfits custom made, and it seems to me that this is a good excuse to buy another corset. I\’m pretty sure that the next corset I buy will be from Wasp Creations. Amy does amazing work. I wish she was still in Kansas City. Unfortunately, she\’s a world class corsetier, so she has a waiting list. Alas…
Some tips on corseting based on my own experiences with them:
First: if you can wear something between the corset and your skin, do it. This will make the experience much more pleasurable and will prevent the stays and other raised fabric areas on the inside of the corset from \”burning\” into your skin. I usually wear a camisole, but I also have corset liners.
Second: don\’t cinch it down all the way when you first put it on. Cinch it down to where it feels snug, get used to it for a half hour to forty-five minutes, then lace it tighter. Repeat until it\’s either closed at the back or you don\’t think you can take it any tighter. Don\’t over-tighten if it\’s not comfortable.
Third: avoid carbonated beverages. The old complaint of \”the vapors\” was a result of gas trapped in the digestive system by corsetry, so minimize anything that might cause it.
Fourth: I find that having someone else lace me into a corset is an extremely erotic experience, but many of us don\’t have someone to help. I\’ve become fairly adept at lacing myself into corsets with the aid of a door handle. The door handles in most hotels are perfect for this: loop the laces over the doorhandle and let your own weight close the corset for you (but be careful!). A lot of tightlacers will wrap the laces around their waist and tie them in the front: you should avoid doing this because it puts stress on the lace placket that isn\’t intended and can distend the back of the corset. Tying the laces behind you by yourself is a skill worth accquiring.
Fifth: if you have a \”little extra padding,\” avoid waist cinchers and go with a corset that will control the bulges where they occur. If you have a problem with this, prefer corsets that extend from the pubis to the underbust, or above.
Sixth: boots first, corset second. Trust me on this one. You can skip this if you have a ladies maid or other helper to dress you. As I said in the fourth tip, this can be extremely erotic with the right helper.
Seventh: make sure you are comfortable in the corset before doing anything strenuous. You don\’t want to hyperventilate while wearing a corset.
Enjoy.
The Waist-land
August 15, 2006
I\’m a corset fetishist, in case anyone reading this blog didn\’t know it. I love corsets. I\’ve spent a lot of money on corsetry over the years (more than I\’ve spent on all other clothing during the entire span of my lifetime truth be told). I LOVE the shape a good corset gives me. The corsets I own range from functional to elaborately beautiful. Some are cheap corsets I bought when I didn\’t know what I was looking for. Some are engineering marvels. My current favorite is this one:
I have another one just like it in black satin.
Over the years, I\’ve become very comfortable in corsets. While I\’m not a regular tightlacer, I\’ve gone for extended periods in them. I\’ve worn them to work. Many crossdressers are interested in corsetry, but most of them settle for the crappy \”corsets\” sold by Victoria\’s Secret or Fredericks of Hollywood. If you\’re interested in corsetry, please avoid these corsets. Not only will they not provide you with the kind of figure shaping you may want, they will wear out quickly. The only corset I ever bought from Fredericks lasted one night–I ripped out the grommets trying to lace it to where I wanted it. You may pay more for a good corset–you\’ll pay a LOT more for a REALLY good corset–but you\’ll more than recoup the difference if you wear it often. Good corsets don\’t wear out. The only way my corsets fall by the way side is if I change weight drastically from when I buy them. None of my good corsets have become so loose or so tight that I can\’t wear them, but my weight doesn\’t vary much unless I set out to specifically change it. Most of my \”good\” corsets are \”off the shelf\” and most corset enthusiasts will tell you that buying an off the shelf corset is a no no. I\’ve had good luck with mine–they are expensive Vollers corsets, mostly, that I bought at Skyscraper Heels in Chicago–but you will do better with a custom fit corset. I\’ve heard that many crossdressers have good luck with the ninety dollar model that Glamour Boutique sells, but I have no experience of it myself.
The reason this is on my mind is because I\’ve been having some fetish outfits custom made, and it seems to me that this is a good excuse to buy another corset. I\’m pretty sure that the next corset I buy will be from Wasp Creations. Amy does amazing work. I wish she was still in Kansas City. Unfortunately, she\’s a world class corsetier, so she has a waiting list. Alas…
Some tips on corseting based on my own experiences with them:
First: if you can wear something between the corset and your skin, do it. This will make the experience much more pleasurable and will prevent the stays and other raised fabric areas on the inside of the corset from \”burning\” into your skin. I usually wear a camisole, but I also have corset liners.
Second: don\’t cinch it down all the way when you first put it on. Cinch it down to where it feels snug, get used to it for a half hour to forty-five minutes, then lace it tighter. Repeat until it\’s either closed at the back or you don\’t think you can take it any tighter. Don\’t over-tighten if it\’s not comfortable.
Third: avoid carbonated beverages. The old complaint of \”the vapors\” was a result of gas trapped in the digestive system by corsetry, so minimize anything that might cause it.
Fourth: I find that having someone else lace me into a corset is an extremely erotic experience, but many of us don\’t have someone to help. I\’ve become fairly adept at lacing myself into corsets with the aid of a door handle. The door handles in most hotels are perfect for this: loop the laces over the doorhandle and let your own weight close the corset for you (but be careful!). A lot of tightlacers will wrap the laces around their waist and tie them in the front: you should avoid doing this because it puts stress on the lace placket that isn\’t intended and can distend the back of the corset. Tying the laces behind you by yourself is a skill worth accquiring.
Fifth: if you have a \”little extra padding,\” avoid waist cinchers and go with a corset that will control the bulges where they occur. If you have a problem with this, prefer corsets that extend from the pubis to the underbust, or above.
Sixth: boots first, corset second. Trust me on this one. You can skip this if you have a ladies maid or other helper to dress you. As I said in the fourth tip, this can be extremely erotic with the right helper.
Seventh: make sure you are comfortable in the corset before doing anything strenuous. You don\’t want to hyperventilate while wearing a corset.
Enjoy.
