Gay Vintage Blog

Body standards have changed. As you can easily tell by looking at a 1970s vs. present-day  G.I. Joe doll (I mean action figure of course as boys don't play with dolls as that would be super gay). 

But the muscles have changed into ginormous bulging things beyond human proportion. So vintage muscle is a different thing. Of course there were giant muscle guys back then too but they were mostly busy in gladiator movies or as backup for Mae West's 1950s stage show (or both).

Ok, that's the infamous John Holmes, so probably don't want him to call me back then. Or his dick could call me but that's it. His dick can do a lot of things, like dial a phone. And pole vault.

I wonder if back then posing nude wasn't as risky a proposition. Considering the images really may not have been seen as potentially permeating the gay ether. Though folks didn't necessarily consider the whole internet thing in 1981. Or even '87. Or '91.

Still I'm sure some folks got fired when they got porn outed. Ironically by someone who saw the porn. Like someone's boss said, fuck you posed in porn I'm firing you. After watching the porn. Yes, that has happened. Though here's what would be better.

The grayscale pics make the color ones look more color and the color pics make the grayscale look more 1974. And that couch makes me sick. Yeah, it blows my mind that the people in the actual real world who were photographed (and the backgrounds) were color, including their dickheads, but captured in black and white which now looks forever vintage. 

This should not blow my mind, but because I think of these folks as surreal, anything that brings them more into focus, such as color, trips me out. And still, that couch. Ouch. And that dick? Double ouch, potentially.

I'm thinking this stuff looked vintage even when it was in the present. Like folks just knew it was a certain moment in sexual time. From the decor to the hairstyles, to the fashions. To the hair that looked like shag carpeting and the shag carpeting that did a great job at absorbing semen.

Nudity has never not been in style and will never go out of style.

I'm tempting fate with that. Perhaps at some point nudity will be the default and what will be sexually arousing is being fully dressed. I plan to time travel there, and put some clothes on. In public. Scandalous.

All hear this: Mustache Rides $1! And that's in 1981 money. So either that means mustache rides are a quarter. Or $300. I'm not an economist.

Though I am quite certain there is no feasible limit to the number of classy vintage mustaches I adore. Just don't make me kiss a guy with one. 

Hey, I love mustaches. I just don't want anyone to make me kiss someone. I need to have dinner with them first. Seven times. Then we can hold hands.

Ejaculation is what would tend to follow posing nude and tied up or fucked or rimmed. I mean whenever I get naked all those things happen. And then wait 30 or 40 years and it's vintage magic.

Because I super do not want to call '90s or later vintage. I know it would be to some, but Arsenio Hall is not Ed Sullivan. And Wheel of Fortune is not What's My Line? (though Vanna White is like 1,000 years old now).

Nope, vintage has to make you wistful, like peering into some looking glass of pornographic history. Now digitized for your pleasure.

Trouser Bar, directed by Kristen Bjorn in London, UK is a 20 minute film presented by the British Film Institute, starring Hans Berlin, Scott Hunter, Denholm Spurr, Zac Renfree, Ashley Ryder, and Craig Daniel. The BFI is "proud to present the world premiere of the eagerly awaited Trouser Bar." The short, controversial, erotic fantasy film is set in a gentlemen's outfitters circa 1976, and the film draws inspiration from the fetishistic love of corduroy, leather, and tight trousers!

Want free meat? You can either hook up with some guy on Craigslist (yeah, that will go well) or enter this contest for a month's supply of dickmeat! Forget the fact that this call for submissions (masquerading as a contest) in a minimum of 30 years old and the magazine FirstHand has been defunct since I'm guessing the mid '90s. It's not too late to enter.

You're lucky you're reading this because otherwise you would have no fucking idea how to wear a kaftan. Nor would you necessarily know that it can also be spelled caftan if I hadn't told you just now. Because it's impossible to figure out how to wear a free-flowing robe/tunic. Difficulty level 40 times more than tying your own bow tie.

What I like about the guy rollerskating in shorts is he's figured out a practical way to dress like a fag and have a ready escape from bashers. Or a ready way to bash back should he want to speed toward a homophobic villain (like 1982 Donald Trump) and pike him with the business end of a rainbow flag.

Millionaires have a tendency to change outfits multiple times a day. One for breakfast, another for lunch at the country club. Yet another for the symphony. And a final one for a clandestine meeting in a sleazy 4 star hotel bar (sleazy because it's not 5 star hotel) with a potential mistress. Because it takes alcohol to turn one's psychiatrist into one's mistress.

Cazzo Club not only make some sleazy hot new porn, but their back catalog is also available to watch instantly online. This week we found this garage threeway with Cyrus, Patrik Ekberg and Jack Janus.