Do I miss DVD rental shops? No, not really. You can still find them, especially up and down the I-44 corridor through Missouri. The renters are mainly truckers for whom the data rates for getting decent porn through their phones would still be way too prohibitive. Even then, the material isn't new, or in some places even categorized. It's more for the men who desperately need a quick wank, otherwise they'd run off the road.
I do miss the shops that did rentals, where the owners and managers were connoisseurs of fine erotica, knew who the latest and greatest stars were, and could have a long chat with you about What Makes Us Hard. I wrote in another thread here about a certain time in the history of an old theater in Dallas called the Lido, which during the mid-'80s was a classy establishment. They started doing rentals in addition to sales, and that changed the nature of the whole store into more of a convenience location, a place to pick up and drop off materials. When the first adult video stores throughout the US did sales only, often in addition to being theaters, they were more social gathering places. Granted, that's a nice euphemism for a lot of the "gathering" that went on in several of these places, though not always all. As just a rental store, these places truly did morph into something more like manned Redbox outlets, which ironically had the side-effect of cleaning up the nefarious activity.
During that window of time when porn production was mainly directed towards DVD rentals, the formats started changing. The content moved away from trying to be original movies with plots and themes interspersed with sex, and went in two directions: 1) parodying actual movies or TV shows, addressing the urge to see someone who looks enough like Sharon Stone or Suzanne Somers naked and fucking; 2) targeting straight men whose private porn stashes consisted of magazines that showcased beautiful women or, in the more explicit cases, wall-to-wall sex. That's when the quality of the product started really improving. Porn produced for the theater-goer always seemed to have its hands tied. Its sex scenes lasted 10 minutes or less, and if the performers were great, then the 15-minute interstitial segments became dull and forgettable, like the peas-and-carrots portion of a TV dinner. Porn for the rental customer and the DVD owner (the original audience for this very forum) was a huge improvement. It was geared to collectors who wanted to see naked bodies in ecstasy, and were tired of handling their fast-forward buttons more frequently than themselves. When porn became about the sex, its performers started coming alive (pun intended). A girl could spread her ass and pose for a good two, three minutes, her asshole winking at us like a neon-glowing jellyfish, and the director wouldn't be yelling, "Okay, cut, let's get on with it!"
So we owe a debt of gratitude to the Rental era for having made porn freer, more explicit, more unabashed, more unashamed, and more fun. But do I miss the rental shops themselves? Not really.
This really brings back memories, the first porn video I ever saw was Debbie Does Dallas #2 VHS rental from a mom and pop rental store that also rented non porn Hollywood movies which I also rented a lot of back in the day, they had this big fat book you browsed through with images of the box covers to decide which porn movie you wanted, the Hollywood movies were on display on shelves all over the store front, the place was local and the biggest fear was someone you knew walk in while browsing the big porn catalog!
I then found a rental store up the road further that had a cordoned off area in the back for adult movies, after entering through black curtains the boxes were on display all around and I'll never forget the sensation of having all these fleshy box covers to gaze at, like a kid in a toy store, I was still worried someone I know or worse a relative would walk in while purchasing the porn rental!
Finally I discovered from a newspaper add a used VHS retail store up near the largest city closest to me which was roughly 35 to 40 miles away, the store, which was in a strip mall, had a false front of traditional non adult movies, but the real purpose of this business was adult video which again you entered through black curtains in the back, here finally was the Holly Grail of porn video, miles and miles of shelves stacked to the ceiling of fleshy box covers staring at you in the face, they even had an exclusive area for gay and lesbian video which I'd never seen before, of course the lesbian section was tiny compared to the gay section which took up an entire wall! Although you could rent from this establishment, I purchased the items because of the distance, but what I really loved about this place it was highly unlikely anyone I knew or family members would find me there!
What I miss the most about that era is after eventually discovering and visiting many of the video wholesale outlets and other exclusively adult video stories are the people I met, one place in particular the guy who ran the place was very knowledgeable, an insider you could say in the adult business, he and I would talk for hours on end, it was fantastic, Jesus that was probably over 25 years ago, eventually the internet replaced trips to porn stores, I doubt any of the businesses still exist.
I dont miss at all the fear of a relative or friend popping in discovering my porn fetish at those early rental establishments, but times have changed, don't give a damn who knows now!
^ Bella, your experiences and memories are a lot like mine. I've lived most of my life in a small city on the Atlantic Coast in Canada. It had always been a conservative place, and for several years was run by a mayor who imposed her own narrow right-wing Christian views on the whole community.
After fighting a zoning battle, an adult shop opened up. By happy coincidence, I was 18 or 19 at the time, so I was legal to go in. It was a bit risky because you might run into someone you know, but in the first year or so it was common for the local police to stop in to make sure that no laws were being broken. Yeah, right. I remember my membership card was in the low double digits, like 33 or something. As the years went by, the staff would chuckle when they saw that and comment that I was an early member.
Your comments on feeling like a kid in a toy store are shared. I always had a nervous excitement when going there to rent something.
At 20, I joined the military and was posted to a larger city, though the base I was posted at was a bit of a distance outside the city. The larger population, coupled with the advancement of time and the less restrictive local politics meant I had a lot more options. There was a mom and pop store not far from the base where I rented VHS tapes and I still remember one trip there. As I was anonymously browsing the selection a guy struck up a conversation. He was what nice Christian ladies would think of when they imagined a pervert renting dirty movies - overweight, unkempt and reeking of cigarettes. The thing I remember about that is the guy had a lot of knowledge about the business. He wasn't an insider, he just knew a lot. The shop owner joined in too. The thing that struck me about that was that there were people who weren't affected by the shame that the larger community wanted to impose on some of us.
After a few years in the military, I left and returned home to go back to school. I still had my membership card to the local shop and it got used regularly.
Four years later I moved to a nearby city to go to law school. In my first year, I lived right downtown with a friend who was as perverted as I was/am. Imagine our delight when a large adult shop opened less than a block away. They got a lot of business from us. It was at this time that DVDs replaced VHS. It was also during this time when I really started following individual stars, directors and studios. It was also during this time when I became a fan of anal sex scenes. Prior to this, it was rare, but as the industry grew, anal became a popular niche with its own section in the store.
I graduated in 1996 and moved back to my home town. My double-digit membership card to the first adult shop in town still worked. By then, a second shop had opened too. Mom and pop shops rented adult videos too, but I stuck to the adults-only shops.
But by then, internet porn was starting to pop up. I recall a conversation with a guy at work about where internet porn would end up. I don't recall how I, as a young lawyer, managed to be talking porn with an older accountant, but here we were. He had this whacky idea that within a decade or so, full movies would be available online. He was, quite clearly, delusional, and I kept my adult shop rental memberships.
But we know how that accountant's prediction turned out. The first adult shop in town is still around, though they've moved to a location where there is a lot of traffic so being seen going in or out is a real possibility. As much as I'd like to check it out, for nostalgia alone, it ain't happening.
As recently as seven or eight years ago I popped into the shop that was a block away from where I lived when in law school, and they were still renting DVDs.
Do I miss having to buy and rent porn this way? Absolutely not! At the peak of my VHS porn collecting, I may have had 30 or 40 tapes. Hiding them wasn't easy. With DVDs, I may have had 300. They were easier to hide and store in those book-like things with the plastic sleeves. But today, I have 31 external drives with about 70 TB of porn. At last count, I had close to 7000 movies and sites. The list where I track my collection is over 400 pages long now. Porn is cheaper, easier to get, and easier to store. If my collection was on VHS tapes, I'd need a warehouse. If it was on DVDs, I'd still need a warehouse, though a smaller one. These days, my collection fits into a discreet briefcase in a closet.
Another advantage to saying goodbye to stores is that the variety is so much better. I can find specific stuff easily now, whereas with a store, I was at the mercy of what they brought in. I don't know what things are like now, but I used to read lists published quarterly listing what the border service seized and prevented from coming into the country. Max Hardcore movies never made it into the country. BDSM? Nope, not here in prudish Canada! I could get any of that over the internet. I have no idea how Canada Border Services would deal with a BDSM DVD coming into the country, but I also don't care. I can join Kink or any of a hundred other sites if I want.
But I will say that while I don't really miss having to procure porn through a store, in some was I miss parts of that experience.
There. That's what I miss. Sure, there was that kid-in-the-candy-store vibe, which a lot of us miss now that we own terabytes of candy ourselves. But there's a sense of personal validation that comes from being able to share a part of who you are that you usually feel you have to keep hidden. (Case in point: being a member of this very forum. Thank you, mods.)
I remember as a (much) younger man, a conversation I struck with the guy manning the counter at the Lido in Dallas one day. To give you an idea of timeframe, they were selling off their Beta cassettes at a huge discount that day, having held onto the format for as long as they could. The theater was playing a completely forgettable video whose plot focused on girls who like anal sex. I was feeling guilty for peeking at a practice that I'd been told all my life was sinful. Folks were still scared and misinformed about AIDS, and preachers in the southwest US were wasting hours on the pulpit railing against the Sin of Sodomy.
I walked out into the lobby and the rental area mid-way through. The counter guy could read it on my face, I wasn't into this yet. So he broke the ice by asking, "So, whatdya think?" I breathed in and out, trying to say as much without using words as I could. "Look, it's just sex," he said. "People like sex in different ways. You might get used to it, but you might not. Doesn't mean it's wrong."
I explained that it wasn't the whole Sin of Sodomy thing I was worried about. I was concerned, are the women performers actually enjoying this? Or are they forced into scenes like this because they need the money, and they'll take whatever they get even if it's abuse?
Look, the guy said. You hear from too many people that something is wrong, you start to believe it yourself. People try to tell us what we can put in our bodies, who we can take out on a date, where we can stick our dicks. Before long, if they keep this up, he said, they'll repeal the abortion laws and they'll be telling women how many kids they should have and what they should do with their own wombs, like it's the Middle Ages. These girls you're seeing getting it in the ass? You think they'd go through all that trouble to leave their families, move to L.A., go to work with these guys because they're forced to? They're trying to break free! Everybody - their mothers and fathers, their preachers, their professors - tells them how to live, how to walk, how to dress, how and when to have sex and with whom. They go to work in an office behind some typewriter, that's where they're forced into having sex with sleazy, money-grubbing executives. They're not taking it in the ass because someone held a gun to their heads. They're making a statement! They're showing the world exactly where they can stick it!
Now, maybe a lot of what this fellow said wasn't exactly prophecy, and a chunk of it was glorified. But over time, especially with what we've since learned about Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein, not to mention the repeal of a certain fundamental law of rights, you have to admit the fellow was shining the light on some truth. He made me start thinking about performers and performances, especially where beautiful women with magnificent butts accept the ultimate tribute from dicks as long as my forearm, as acts of liberation.
^Fascinating and interesting story. Thanks for sharing it. I suspect the OP is a bit concerned that the old farts have taken over his thread and are reminiscing about the good 'ol days.
What I don't miss, and what happened about 90% of the time, is the video not being what was shown on the cover.
I still remember a Max Hardcore vid with exquisite pics of Tiffany Mynx on the cover. The actual vid was mostly close ups of Max ass, Max dick, and Max mugging for the camera.
You guy's have got me in stitches! that line Admiral about OP waking up the sleeping pensioners, what did he/she expect inquiring about DVD rental shops LOL! Just kidding OP, just kidding.
And RickFBerger3 wrote: Look, the guy said. You hear from too many people that something is wrong, you start to believe it yourself. People try to tell us what we can put in our bodies, who we can take out on a date, where we can stick our dicks. Before long, if they keep this up, he said, they'll repeal the abortion laws and they'll be telling women how many kids they should have and what they should do with their own wombs, like it's the Middle Ages. These girls you're seeing getting it in the ass? You think they'd go through all that trouble to leave their families, move to L.A., go to work with these guys because they're forced to? They're trying to break free! Everybody - their mothers and fathers, their preachers, their professors - tells them how to live, how to walk, how to dress, how and when to have sex and with whom. They go to work in an office behind some typewriter, that's where they're forced into having sex with sleazy, money-grubbing executives. They're not taking it in the ass because someone held a gun to their heads. They're making a statement! They're showing the world exactly where they can stick it!
That is heavy man, changed my entire outlook on life!
Rearadmiral that is an amazing life story, my state Maryland is fairly liberal regarding adult shops and so forth, two very large metropolitan areas Baltimore and Washington, Baltimore is well known for it's red light district, while Washington is a straight up cesspool everybody knows that! Actually DC is pretty nice, like every city it has it's good and bad, Baltimore too, but living in a Liberal state with two large cities, once you get the feel of the place, get to know the lay of the land, mainly driving was my main concern, there's an adult store in the middle of town and just figuring out how to get there the first time was hair raising, you know another thing I just remembered I don't miss about going to porn shops is the traffic!
I miss the thrill of being in those shops gazing at all the naked box covers, the butterflies in my stomach, my face turning red sweat dripping off my forehead, the anticipation of getting home and pop one of those bad boys in the VCR! Fast forward to the best parts, I hammered that FF button sometimes right to the end, some videos were duds! Of course you didn't just rent one movie at a time, you had 5 or 6! Hardly knew any model names back then, it took awhile to begin to remember model names, there's so many now I'm constantly on indexxx or IAFD trying to remember what's the name of that model!
Kowalski, I know exactly what you mean, before internet the only reference you had of an adult movie was what was on the box cover, and I recall many times the pictures on the box not representing what was in the movie, I don't miss that at all!
Thanks, Bella. Maybe that old guy is still around, but at least now, we've immortalized Radical Liberal Conspiracy Theory Porn Counter Guy. And he'd be happy. Whenever I see anal sex, part of me thinks of him. (Dear Lord, that sounded creepy. Maybe that was his plan all along.)
I never had the bad luck Kowalski had with rentals, but that was usually because I could get a hold of one of the trade tabloids like Adult Video News, and knew what to ask for or hold out for. For awhile, one shop would keep recent copies behind the counter. So I knew what titles to avoid.
When traveling, from time to time, I'd occasionally find a shop, usually just off the Interstate, whose inventory seemed like it was recovered from the crashed remains of a box truck. That's where I would run across titles similar to the Not Really Tiffany Mynx Trojan horse that Kowalski described.
The absolute worst-case scenario I ever came across, was a black-curtain room of a truck stop in mid-Missouri. There were several VHS box covers that were photocopied from Polaroid snapshots taped to construction paper, showing what were probably sex workers of indeterminate age, labeled by hand with names like, "Sex Trips to Thailand" and "Tiny Bangkok Bangs." You had to give them credit for probably delivering exactly the level of quality that was advertised. I bet nobody ever brought those purchases back complaining about no Tiffany Mynx (assuming anyone purchased these titles at all).
^ Rick, just reading those stories makes me want to get a bottle of lice shampoo and have a go... just in case.
Bella, Rick, and others, since we've hijacked this thread, I say we drive it like we stole it. The pensioners are now in control!
Rick - your story of shopping while out of town reminded me that up until about 20 years ago, whenever I was in Toronto I'd make a short trek to a shop on Yonge Street, in the heart of the city. There was no mistaking what this shop sold - porn DVDs. They were loud and proud about it. It was run by a couple of Russians - pretty scary looking guys. They had thousands upon thousands of titles in there. The prices were okay, but not great. Any time I knew I was going to be in Toronto, I'd start saving so I had a porn DVD budget. (In case you're wondering, this was separate from my lapdance budget.) I probably bought over 100 DVDs from these guys over the years.
Not that I would have done this, but I suspect that these guys probably had pretty much anything under the counter waiting for someone to ask. They just had that vibe.
While we've been talking about the helpful and insightful people we've met in DVD shops, these Russian guys didn't appear to fall into that category. I'm sure their inner dialogue was more along the lines of [insert cartoonish Russian accent] "Give me your money you filthy capitalist pig and get out of my sight. And why are you Canadians so obsessed with anal?" Okay, that last bit was probably just for me. I probably should have called them a week before any trip so they could stock up their "Anal" section.
To take this thread waaaaaay off topic, back in 1982 or 1983, I was 16 or 17, but definitely under 18. At that time, adult stores didn't exist in my community. My porn collection consisted of magazines, mostly bought from a neighbourhood hoodlum who stole them from local stores. I don't remember why I was in this part of town, but one lunch hour I was in a rough neighbourhood maybe 3/4 miles from the school. There was a mall there too, so maybe I needed something at the mall.
What's even more of a mystery to me was why, as I walked back to school, I felt compelled to go in to this seedy looking place called "Bill's Cigarette Shop." Maybe the porn gods were calling me in.
I walked in and there was an obese older guy with a stained shirt, a greasy ballcap and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. I presume this was Bill.
I can't say with any certainty what those who discovered King Tutankhamen's tomb felt when they first saw it, but I'm certain my walking into Bill's Cigarette Shop was similar. Calling this a cigarette shop was false advertising, as it should have been called "Bill's Used Dirty Book Emporium." This place was two small rooms, with shelves made of scrap wood piled high with porn magazines. There was no rhyme or reason to the disorder.
I browsed through the stacks, waiting at any minute for Bill to yell "git yer ass outta here, kid!" At the time, Penthouse was magazine of choice. I bought it mostly for the articles. Coincidentally, Penthouse made up 75% of what Bill had in stock. My mind was racing and my palms were sweating. I realized that there was no sense in browsing for a long time, and I had to get back to school, so I grabbed a couple of Penthouse and headed to see Bill. I knew there was a possibility that Bill just strung me along letting me browse, and when I got to the counter, he'd tell me to get out and not come back until I was 18. Fair play, Bill. He looked at me, looked at the three Penthouse, and said "That'll be three bucks." I paid the man, exchanged a final greeting and RAN back to school.
See, back at school was a guy I'd been friends with since Grade 4. He and I were porn aficionados, but neither of us had a stable supply. Until now. I stuffed the magazines in my locker and ran around furiously looking for my friend. I found him, grabbed him, and he must have seen the look in my eyes. "I, Sir, have discovered the motherlode!"
There was much backslapping and high-fiving that day.
So, naturally, my friend wanted in on this. The next day (probably, we couldn't control ourselves) I took my friend to see Bill. It was all I said it was. We both brought magazines to the counter, Bill announced the price, we paid him, he slipped them in a paper bag, and we were off. I'd describe us as being as giddy as schoolboys, but the truth is we were schoolboys.
I bought magazines from Bill for the next several years, even after high school. Bill didn't appear to be the most healthy man, and one day the shop was gone. I'm rarely in that part of town now, but if I am, it makes me think that building needs a plaque to commemorate what was once there.
As an aside, that friend moved to Ontario, 1500 km away, right after high school. We've stayed in touch ever since, and still have weekly phone calls to stay connected. While we don't spend much time reminiscing, we both still chuckle at the Bill's Cigarette Shop part of our lives. He continued to collect porn for a while afterwards. I remember visiting him maybe 25 years ago and one morning after breakfast he got up, grabbed his car keys and announced he had to run to the corner store because this month's edition of Barely Legal was due in. He's only a casual porn user now. Unlike me, who is a proud collector.
God bless Cigarette Bill! I think the statute of limitations has long since expired, so we can freely share the shocking truth about our having appropriated Penthouses when we were 16. Let us take a moment out of our day to give thanks to all the great men, their shirts stained with mustard and pudding cups, who electively neglected to card us when we were full-on into puberty and about to explode.
Folks, if you've never seen a Penthouse from this period of history, it is indeed like stumbling upon Tutankhamen's tomb. They didn't look like the content that's stamped with the "Penthouse.com" bug today. Back then, Bob Guccione (its publisher and chief photographer) would apply so much lens fog to the edges of his photos you'd think he was having a seizure when he clicked the shutter. Guccione presented the vagina as though he had invented it. There it is, brazen in its beauty, unseen before in the annals of American publication, and only I, Guccione I, could have brought it to you. Kiss my ring.
So here's a rental story that jives with your Penthouse theme, Admiral: Caligula. Here was a film starring Malcolm McDowell, Sir John Gielgud, Helen Mirren, and a "speaking" role for Peter O'Toole. Plus a lot of Penthouse Pets re-enacting Roman times about as accurately as the Batley Townwoman's Guild re-enactment of Pearl Harbor, in Monty Python. Okay, so this was not a hardcore movie, but it wasn't as soft as something you'd see on Cinemax, either. When it first arrived on VHS a few years after its "cinematic" release, no one knew what to do with it. You'd find it in everyday rental stores, right there with the other historical dramas, uncut. People would bring it home, discover its contents, rush back to the store and beat the management over the head with their purses and umbrellas for being "smut-mongers." (I, on the other hand, would have complained that Tiffany Mynx was nowhere to be found.)
Then I'd go into an adult rental shop, and there it would be, often with an endcap featuring the gold coin relic logo atop a blue background with gold Roman titling: CALIGULA. Dozens of copies for sale or rental. The adult film event of the 20th century! Nobody touched it. Who the hell would go into a respectable adult rental place and walk out carrying a film with Sir John Gielgud in it? Actually, the real reason was because the word had gotten out: The sex scenes sucked (literally and figuratively). It was far from being the dream of merging high-class porn with high-class drama. Bob Guccione, its producer, had completely blown (figuratively and literally) his assessment of both his markets. Nobody from one side of the aisle wanted to walk away with a product that was straddling, precariously, the other side of the aisle.
I think it's being completely fair to MLarson to say, while we may not miss the actual act of renting DVDs, we miss the times and the society that gave rise to DVD rental. I remember the first jewel boxes, all glistening in their compact-ness. I remember thinking I could stack 50 of these things on a spindle and still not clutter my desk. It was the time that gave rise to the rental shops, and it was the time that we miss more than the shops themselves.
^ Rick, it's almost as if you met Cigarette Bill! To be fair though, it's like he's right out of Central Casting. Ask anyone to think of a 'dirty old man' from the early 80s and the guy most would picture would be a lot like Bill.
I'm a bit ashamed to say that I've never seen Caligula. I wanted to, mostly because of how heavily it was advertised in my magazine of choice, Penthouse. I don't recall exactly why I've never seen it, but I suspect that it has a lot to do with how it was positioned, as you note. If I was renting a movie to jerk off to, I didn't want this crap. I wanted the real deal. Maybe the latest edition of "Caught from Behind" was available! And if I wanted to watch a 'real' movie, this had too much sex in it for me to sit in the living room with my parents at home. So I never saw it. And these days, I have no desire to see it.
Your comments on the Penthouse of that era are spot on. Once the internet got up and running I quickly migrated there for my porn, but as the internet picked up speed, Penthouse tried to keep up but couldn't. I recall buying a copy in the mid-90s and it was terrible. The articles were terrible and the porn was now hardcore. I know it sounds strange for me to be complaining about hardcore porn, but that wasn't what Penthouse was about. I recall that the copy I bought in the mid-90s even had peeing in it.
Younger folks (who admittedly got bored with this thread and stopped reading it long ago) may not realize that magazines like Playboy and Penthouse were journalistic giants in their heyday. The old joke about buying them for the articles is funny because it's partly true. Both Playboy and Penthouse won multiple awards for their journalism.
I fully agree with your point that while we don't miss the process to go to a store to buy/rent porn, we do miss some of the periphery of it. We miss those chance encounters that made it worthwhile.
But still, even if there was an adult video emporium in town, I wouldn't go. I don't have fond memories of driving by the original adult shop and scoping out the parking lot to ensure I didn't see a car I recognized. And yes, that happened. That shop was at an intersection and if the light was red, I'd circle the block so I could get off the street as quickly as possible. When the second shop opened, it was on a busy street near an even busier intersection. I'd park a block away and have my head on a swivel as I approached the shop. I was always prepared to pop into the furniture shop next door to look at a new couch in case I was spotted. And then the next day I had to do it all over again to return the rentals.
Nope, I don't miss that.
In no small way, forums like ADT, and threads like this, are the new way of 'socializing' over a shared interest in porn. I'm grateful for that.
Oh, believe me. . . you are missing nothing whatsoever. Except maybe a chance to laugh your socks off.
It's a fair question, just who did Guccione think his target audience was? Caligula was two halves of a film (an amateur remake of "Spartacus," and an amateur attempt at "Roman Girls who Suck Dick") made with completely different intentions, chopped into bits and spliced together, at points seemingly randomly. Did he really think wankers and grammas would share a couch, enjoy the bits from one half, and turn away when the other half came up? What was he expecting his viewers to do?
What I miss about Penthouse Magazine when it was great (when it featured the photography of Earl Miller, Denys Defrancesco, and Suze Randall) was how it brought out the beauty in women and eliminated the shame around it. These models weren't shamed women, portrayed as down-on-their-luck street girls. They were goddesses, and we loved them because their bodies were exquisite. In the late '70s, Playboy was suffering from a little shame, and started reprinting character traits on the backs of their centerfolds (turn-ons, turn-offs, etc.), so we could pretend we could also appreciate them simultaneously as "real women", as though nakedness were somehow not real. Penthouse said, screw that, here's a gorgeous woman, and here's a faceful of her vagina. It was okay for us to love the whole woman even while we're staring at her ass.
And now, in a desperate effort to keep this thread on-topic, I'll mention the first Penthouse-branded and Playboy-branded VHS videos. In a way, they explain why "Caligula" was as bad as it was.
The very first Penthouse "Forum" and "Variations" themed videos were made for the back-shelves of "respectable" video stores. Folks who were eager to rent them at first, thought, here at last is a chance to see these great women we see in the magazine, but in motion. Somehow they ended up making Cinemax late-night R-rated romps look downright raunchy. Their directors and producers had absolutely no idea who their viewers might be, so they never composed a product they could imagine viewers enjoying. Many of the stars were experienced models for still photographers. Indeed, the same gorgeous women who appeared in the pages. But they'd pose. They'd hold still. They'd get into a frame, then they'd move into another frame and hold. They'd wear lingerie, and they'd turn so you could see their butts in profile. Then they'd slowly turn like the minute-hand on a grandfather clock, until you got into a one-quarter profile, then they'd hold. . . and then move into another pose. When they'd stage a "sex" scene, you can see the model's mind thinking, "This would not be the opportune moment for me to expose my vagina. So perhaps if I put something in the way. Hmm. How about my hip? Let's see if I can get my knee in front of the lens. Maybe I'll caress the guy's leg, and then move it up. Okay, we're running out of obstructions. Here's a bag of potato chips, let's use that."
One of the most gorgeous models ever to appear in Playboy was its 25th anniversary Playmate, Candy Loving. (Yes, that was her real name.) When the VHS featuring Candy first came out, there was a rush to the stores. Then the word got out quickly: "She holds still! She just holds still! The camera moves around her, and she tilts here head, but that's it!" And sales/rentals plummeted from there.
Not that performance sex has ever looked exactly like everyday sex, but the staging in these late-'70s, early-'80s VHS "home rentals" never looked like anything I'd ever fantasize about, or fantasize that other people would fantasize about. So back in the dark corners of the regular-ol' video store, you'd see rows upon rows of empty boxes, with no one touching them. In talking with the shop managers, they'd say, "There just isn't this market for porn that people think there is." To which I'd say, this material is about as much like porn as a hollowed-out, mildly sweet candy shell spray-painted red is an M&M. The people who don't want porn don't want this, and the people who do want porn don't want this.
Around about this time, there was legitimate attempt by the legitimate porn industry to produce something that could kick "Penthouse Variations" out of its corner. It was called "Electric Blue," and it featured known porn stars in scenes that did not culminate in visible penetration, including some fairly sexy masturbation (hand only, no toys). Its stars were real porn stars, which meant they moved, pranced, teased, and delivered orgasms like porn stars - women who weren't trying to hide their pussies but showcase them without shame. EB's front cover and presentation format were styled like a magazine, so yes, it was going after Playboy Video's and Penthouse Variations' territory. In some cities, EB encouraged politicians to grandstand about the infusion of phron-ah-graph-ey into family video stores that rented Disney films - which only gave it free publicity, so it was rarely ever available to rent.
But EB's viewers knew exactly what it was: diluted porn, which did indeed act as a sort of "gateway drug" for viewers who wanted the real thing. With all the political attention brought upon the rental stores for carrying these flicks in the first place, there was no way they were going to open up hardcore outlets in the back. Even mayors who would become regular customers didn't want to leave paper trails for their future opponents. There was only so far EB could go before it, too, petered out.
So this, in the end, is why porn DVD rental shops that actually did cater to their customers, ended up being the types of places you wouldn't want your car seen parked at. Breaking into the general-audience rental market was too much of a minefield, and politicians made certain the zoning laws were written so these stores ended up in the worst parts of town - or at least, in the case of Missouri, dotted along I-44 at least five miles from any town.
While you might not miss that era, you could imagine a legitimate movie made about regular folks in the '80s who happen to run a porn rental shop off the interstate.
