Thanks for the Mammaries
By Dixie Feldman, Contributing Writer

The fabulously flat-chested Myrna Loy
The fabulously flat-chested Myrna Loy
One of my favorite things about classic films is the soothing normalcy of all the bosoms. In the Golden Age of Hollywood there was a reassuring diversity and sanity where breasts were concerned. Sure, in the Fifties we were treated to some pneumatic marvels, but for every Jayne Mansfield there was an Audrey Hepburn. These days, popular culture gives us just one ice cream flavor, and in two superhuman scoops. Continue Reading »

Bay Area Tiki Lovers Have a New Tropical Refuge
By Will “The Thrill” Viharo

Once ubiquitous in cities and small towns across the nation, the tiki bar has recently enjoyed a resurgence in popularity, a by-product of the whole Tiki Culture renaissance of the ’90s, spearheaded by enterprising, savvy swingers, like Tiki News founder Otto Von Stroheim and Sven Kirsten, author of The Book of Tiki. While the “lounge revival” has mostly subsided from mainstream interest, the Tiki Boom is still in full hula-sway, most recently evidenced by the opening of FORBIDDEN ISLAND on the (mainly landfill) island community of Alameda, California, just across the harbor from Oakland in the San Francisco Bay. Without actually traveling back in time to Hawaii circa 1962, this brand new lounge is as close as one can get to the authentic, postwar tiki bar experience. Continue Reading »

Or: Why Finding Closure Isn’t for the Birds
By Dixie Feldman, Contributing Writer

Mama Peggy and her rootin' tootin' offspring
Mama Peggy and her rootin' tootin' offspring
I’d like to talk about my mother, and a parrot named Butch. But I’d first like to tell you why my mom was way, way better than us. Well, way better than me.She was also the kind of mother that left space for you to be yourself. For example, when it came to clothing, Mom was the classy type who once told me her favorite color was taupe. I, on the other hand, never met a rhinestone I didn’t like. Whenever we were shopping together we had an expression we’d use whenever one of us held up an item for the other’s inspection. “Isn’t this shirt cute?” I might say.

“I wouldn’t choose it for myself,” she’d charitably reply. And in turn when she invariably held up what as far as I was concerned might as well have been a burlap sackcloth, I’d answer, “I wouldn’t choose it for myself.’ And we’d each go on to buy our tawdry and tasteful frocks, respectively.

Mom was the kind of person who:

* Found a $20 bill on the floor in the mall and took it immediately to the nearest store where she turned it in to the cashier, “in case anyone comes back looking for it.”
* Would buy a second teddy bear for her car’s backseat window so the first one “wouldn’t feel lonely.” (OK, that I’d do, too.) Continue Reading »

Don’t Be So Cheeky
By Dixie Feldman, Contributing Writer

Esther Williams looked super sexy even with all her curves demurely covered.
Esther Williams looked super sexy even with all her curves demurely covered.
One of the many things I cherish about “old movies” is the way their denizens are refreshingly clothed. This era of scantily clad Britneys and Christinas is enough to make one pine for the soothing subjection of a burka. My classic movie heroines can always be counted upon to do their livin’ and lovin’ without the alarming possibility of me glimpsing their hoohas dangling above my head like the Sword of Damocles. Amazingly, stars like Irene Dunne and Esther Williams always remained delectably dressed, with no danger of my ever having to see either squirm, writhe or crawl oily and half-naked. Continue Reading »

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