Monday, 1 October 2012

Dressing For Pleasure

If, on hearing the words 'World Of Leather', you immediately think of sofas, then I don't think 'Dressing For Pleasure' will do much for you. A twenty five minute film about clothing perversions and fetishes (I'm not using those terms perjoratively, by the way) it introduces us to lovers of leather, pvc, vulcanised rubber, gas masks and high boots in a straightforward but often visually striking way (say what you want about a shiny black cat suit, it looks bloody good on camera).  

Kinky Boots.

They'd hate that Rhianna song about umbrellas. But not as much as I do.

These people really, really, REALLY like macs. When it rains, a little wee comes out of them. Since seeing this picture, I've been having nightmares about the Phantom Flan Flinger from 'Tiswas'. I'm a bit claustrophobic, so much of this film was like a horror film to me, what with all the skin tight masks with breathing tubes, constricting collars and zips, straps and studs. Despite their preferred constraints, however, everyone featured seems rather liberated. It seems quite a good thing to know what your sexual specifics are, and to then be able to share them with like (open) minded people, and, as a result, 'Dressing For Pleasure' never seems seedy or sleazy. 

The polo neck jumper seems an unnecessary addition. 

An interesting fellow.


Say what you like about it - it's a look.

John Sutcliffe.

This is a 1970's British film, of course, so the people in it aren't particularly sexy or, indeed, very young. The nearest we get to a looker is Kings Road shop assistant, Jordan (the punk one rather than the morally repugnant 21st century one) who models various outfits on what looks to have been a very hot day. Her interest in the clothing mirrors the ethos of 'Sex' the shop she works in (founded by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood), i.e. it is appropriated shock and transgression, and is worn to cause outrage, not arousal.

In contrast to the hipsters, we have a delightful interview with the founder of 'Atomage' magazine, John Sutcliffe, who is wearing a full body squeaky plastic suit and a dog collar, an outfit you'd expect to see in a sex dungeon rather than a chintzy suburban living room. This man may be a pervert by 'normal' standards, but he isn't just defined by what turns him on. Suave, reasoned, sincere, Sutcliffe's mission was to dignify fetishism and although his quest may have ultimately destroyed him (he was prosecuted for obscenity in the eighties, and never recovered from it) he genuinely lives it, he doesn't just try it on: he really is dressing for pleasure, not just to get a reaction - unless, of course, it's an erection.    

More here. Naturally, this is NSFW but, thinking about it, very little on this blog is. We're quite proud of that. So, yeah --


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