Something To Do

23rd September 2017

Things went weird about 1994 when magazines started putting on their covers women aggressively tickled to find themselves in their underwear – women who, a few years earlier, had been aggressively certain that keeping such things private was because the worst life you could lead was that of a Page 3 model. 1994: the year, weirdly, it was clever to be something like a Page 3 model. From 1989 to the last few months of 1992 I was with a woman who thought it wasn’t very clever to be a page 3 model. In 1994 was she a happy whore too? Did she shit on the eighties through an Agent Provocateur G-string?

 

Things went weird about 1994 when magazines started putting on their covers women aggressively tickled to find themselves in their underwear – women who, a few years earlier, had been aggressively certain that keeping such things private was because the worst life you could lead was that of a Page 3 model. 1994: the year, weirdly, it was clever to be something like a Page 3 model. From 1989 to the last few months of 1992 I was with a woman who thought it wasn’t very clever to be a page 3 model. In 1994 was she a happy whore too? Did she shit on the eighties through an Agent Provocateur G-string?

 

Things went weird about 1994 when magazines started putting on their covers women aggressively tickled to find themselves in their underwear – women who, a few years earlier, had been aggressively certain that keeping such things private was because the worst life you could lead was that of a Page 3 model. 1994: the year, weirdly, it was clever to be something like a Page 3 model. From 1989 to the last few months of 1992 I was with a woman who thought it wasn’t very clever to be a page 3 model. In 1994 was she a happy whore too? Did she shit on the eighties through an Agent Provocateur G-string?