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Marilyn
Monroe's B-Day
by
Dr. Susan M. Block Marilyn Monroe has become such an American icon, her image emblazoned on more accessories than Mickey Mouse, that it's easy to forget that she was once a real live woman. But that fact does sneak up on you when you commemorate her birthday. This year, on June 1, 2004, she would have been 78 years old. At first, the idea of a 78-year-old Marilyn Monroe is almost as odd as a 78-year-old Mickey Mouse. Then, it comes back--the passion, the innocence, the ambition, the desire--of a real, live, creamy-fleshed and hot-blooded woman who became America's longterm sweetheart.
I decided to celebrate Marilyn's 78th at the new Hollywood Erotic Museum which was holding an MM B-Day Party at their beautiful, nicely appointed new space on 6741 Hollywood Blvd. Having enjoyed the erotic museums in Paris and Amsterdam (and still trying to help my friend UC Berkeley Professor Mel Gordon to create one in San Francisco), I was happy to hear that we Angelenos now have one of our own. Romantic publicist Christian Antwane begged me to pay the museum a visit, and I thought an MM soirée would be an auspicious time.
After all, Marilyn's body, lips and attitude virtually defined "erotic" for an American generation or four. A real Horatio Alger story, Norma Jeane Mortenson (later baptized Norma Jeane Baker) was a virtual orphan who, with the help of a few very talented men, reinvented herself. into a fantasy-made-flesh named Marilyn Monroe. In life, she was a creature of Hollywood, both the literal neighborhood and the state of mind. In death, she is nothing less than its patron goddess. As Athena reigned over Athens with her sword and helmet of wisdom, so Marilyn rules Hollywood with a wink and a jiggle of sex.
Besides "Marilyn" is my middle name (Dad chose it for my first name, but Mom thought that was just a bit too slutty for the premiere position; thus, the far less sexually loaded "Susan" had to precede the name of the patron saint of my Dad's libido)!
Having "Marilyn" perched like a smoking siren right between my first and last names made me an MM fan from birth. My style evolved to be more like Mae West and my desires are more inspired by Bettie Page (and thank goddess, or I'd be dead by now!). But hey, "My Heart Belongs to Daddy," so a central part of my spirit will always belong to Marilyn. , So come June 1, I put on my Hollywood lime boa bolero and my pendant reproduction of the Marilyn painting by Mark Christian (who only paints Marilyn) that hangs in my office. Theron eschewed wearing all black (his usual style), and put on the Marilyn shirt I picked up in Cannes, and off we went to the Hollywood Erotic Museum. We
were
greeted with gracious gusto by Museum CEO Boris Smordinsky
and Director Marina Smordinsky (yes, like so many erotica enterprises,
this
labor of love is nurtured by a
loving couple), as well as CFO Mark Volper (whose "political hero" is
Ronald Reagan!) and Curator Eric Singley, who showed us around their
Marilynobilia,
erotic art, sexual gadgetry and tastefully presented porn.
Tom Kelley's famous 1949 nude photos of Marilyn, featured in the first issue of Playboy in December of 1953, look lush and lovely, on display above a copy of Marilyn's FBI file, and around the corner from sensuous slides of the Kama Sutra, antique Chinese erotic jade carvings from 2,000 b.c. and Picasso's whimsical orgiastic wood blocks.
A mid-20th century film loop featuring a woman that looks kind of like Marilyn (if you're drunk) played towards the front, as slides of Marilyn's real life flipped in the back of the musem flanked by oil paintings of some 20th century sex pioneers, from Sigmund Freud to Dr. Ruth, along with erotic works from the museum's various permanent and visiting collections.
The staircase features Bettie Page, sometimes called the "Dark Marilyn," in Irving Klaw S/M action shots and luxurious, preternaturally sexy Olivia paintings. Upstairs, we found a large exhibit entitled The Evolution of Sex, displaying a progression of dildos and other erotic paraphernalia as they morph into dolls so lifelike they could pass for Stepford Wives, or Husbots....
We explored some amusing interactive art, including Greg Larson's "Sexcycle," a 21st century version of Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld's famous Female Masturbation Machine. One of the more entertaining pieces to play with is the Toy Box. You just slide your hands into lubed-up latex gloves and feel up the various Toys in the Box. Actually, it's more fun than it sounds, especially if you like to get all wet and slippery in latex..
There's a little something for everyone at the new Hollywood Erotic Museum, a nice balance of classical and modern, straight and gay, serious and humorous, in a light, airy, gallery-like environment. We had fun strolling and clowning around the art.
Then we all sang "Happy Birthday" to Marilyn, wistfully recalling her shockingly sensuous rendition of the ditty that she sang to JFK in "that famous dress," that was allegedly so skintight, it had to be sewn up while she was wearing it. It was also her last important public performance.
Boris cut the chocolate, rose-strewn Marilyn cake, and we all ate of it, as if partaking in a communion with the Patron Saint of Hollywood. We consumed her body with each bite, her blood with each sip of champagne. Everyone was happy, and some were a little aroused. God and Goddess bless the luminous, tragi-comic, ever-erotic spirit of Marilyn.
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