Stohlen Treasure
Near the end of my sophomore year of high school, I found a treasure lying in the middle of the road. It was the July 1987 issue of Playboy. I spotted it while staring out the bus window as was my wont when not studying (AD&D hardcovers). After finally reaching home, I hopped on my bicycle and pedalled the two miles back to the intersection at which I had spotted my glossy quarry, knowing full well that someone must have stopped and picked it up in the interim. But lo and behold!
I had read a few Playboys in junior high, classics from the 70s on loan from a friend whose father maintained a collection in his basement. I had decided that Candy Loving, the 25th Anniversary Playmate, was not my type, though I did plenty of staring to be sure. February 1979 featured Lee Ann Michelle, a British brunette knockout, who shaped my earliest concept of sexy. But this lost or abandoned July '87 issue was the first copy that was all mine. I remember that my first impression upon rescuing it from its indignant resting place was a furrowed brow; the flat, perfect-bound volume was disappointingly thin in comparison with the curvy saddle-stitched 70s editions to which I had grown accustomed. Further, the cover was gaudy, splashy, commercial in that obnoxious 80s way.
But cracking open that treasured tome, a more perfect gem awaited me within. Ellen Stohl had been in a car accident which left her without the use of her legs. And those soft-focus photos of Ellen and the accompanying article, both simultaneously bold and unassuming, redefined sexy for me.
[Edit: Upon further rumination, I believe "redefined" is a bit disingenuous here. Perhaps "expanded" is more accurate. Expanded to include concepts such as subtlety, aspiration, and (being frank) vulnerability (in a quixotic sense, rather than predatory, though is it just as creepy?)]
I had read a few Playboys in junior high, classics from the 70s on loan from a friend whose father maintained a collection in his basement. I had decided that Candy Loving, the 25th Anniversary Playmate, was not my type, though I did plenty of staring to be sure. February 1979 featured Lee Ann Michelle, a British brunette knockout, who shaped my earliest concept of sexy. But this lost or abandoned July '87 issue was the first copy that was all mine. I remember that my first impression upon rescuing it from its indignant resting place was a furrowed brow; the flat, perfect-bound volume was disappointingly thin in comparison with the curvy saddle-stitched 70s editions to which I had grown accustomed. Further, the cover was gaudy, splashy, commercial in that obnoxious 80s way.
But cracking open that treasured tome, a more perfect gem awaited me within. Ellen Stohl had been in a car accident which left her without the use of her legs. And those soft-focus photos of Ellen and the accompanying article, both simultaneously bold and unassuming, redefined sexy for me.
[Edit: Upon further rumination, I believe "redefined" is a bit disingenuous here. Perhaps "expanded" is more accurate. Expanded to include concepts such as subtlety, aspiration, and (being frank) vulnerability (in a quixotic sense, rather than predatory, though is it just as creepy?)]
2 Comments:
hallo und unbekannterweise ein netter gruß aus
saarbrücken. wünsche eine sonnige, jedoch nicht zu
heiße woche mit viel speiseeis und wenig arbeit.
nette grüße
erich
thank you, you are too kind!
best
ellen stohl
www.ellenstohl.com
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