In August 1984, Harper’s editor Lewis Lapham gathered a panel of literary types, feminists, civil libertarians, and professional pearl-clutchers to ask the eternal American question: what is pornography, and should somebody stop it?
When it comes to equal rights, the left is as guilty as the right. A lot of the states that blocked the ERA may wear red hats now, but back in the ’70s and ’80s they were blue, run by Southern Democrats...
NEW YORK — On March 25, Gloria Steinem turns 91, which feels like as good an excuse as any to…
A sheer shirt does nothing to hide the jut of Wikki K’s tits and the sweet little nipples hiding underneath. Looking like that, there’s no question that this stunner is willing to get naked and have some fun. She drops her miniskirt and thong, then shows just how nicely her bare snatch can take a big dildo
Looking for a skinsational way to ring in the New Year? Here are three dynamite proposals for how to start things off in the sexiest way possible as we head into January. You can celebrate alongside lusty lesbians Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara as they make love to Auld Lang Syne in Carol, or instead of getting your own midnight kiss, you can scroll through the endless sapphic smooches in Mr. Skin’s Celebrity Girl-Girl Kissing Playlist. If it’s not New Years without some bubbly, pop open our Top Five Champagne Scenes and watch hotties like Denise Richards and Jaime Pressly pour champs on their chests!
Scarecrow in a Garden of Cucumbers is a scrappy, loopy, gloriously unbothered underground film from 1972, directed by Robert J. Kaplan, who directed only one other film I know of. This movie lives in that same downtown New York ecosystem where plot is optional, sincerity is suspicious, and everyone looks like they just slept on a stranger’s couch and made it work.
I quit cocaine, alcohol, and cigarettes three years ago, which in recovery time is either heroic or suspicious, depending on who’s asking. I did it the boring way. No intervention. No courtroom epiphany. No dramatic bottom involving a police horse or a defibrillator. I just woke up one day and decided I’d had enough of waking up every day feeling like a crime scene. Come to think of it, maybe there was a car wreck and a crime scene, I don’t remember…
Whatever the case, I quit all that fun stuff and I assumed, foolishly, that the world might just meet me halfway.
They call it Age Verification.
That’s the friendly name. The name you give something when you don’t want people to look too closely at what it’s actually doing.
In their weekly series Anatomy of a Nude Scene, Mr Skin takes a look at (in)famous sex scenes and nude scenes throughout cinema history; examining their construction, their relationship to the film around it, and their legacy.
