"Call me a wet blanket," wrote professional funnyman Dave Barry in a recent column on sports, "but I don't want to know how another guy shanks his bogey." Fair enough. Instead of telling that knee-slapper about my wet blankets and how they got that way for this week's introductory anecdote, I'll relate a story sent in by J.R. from Chicago (thanks, J.R.!). Walking out of a Home Depot one day, this dedicated "Dirty Pornos" reader spotted a hot dog vendor whose face he recognized but could not quite place. Engaging the middle-aged woman in conversation, he discovered that she was none other than Lady Macbeth, former porn star! (Note: the woman's name has been changed in order to protect her privacy. Also in the interest of her privacy, please do not buy any of the films in which she is shown having sex.) Then he got an autograph! Whether or not they know it, every person has a calling. Inside of many a future priest is a child molester waiting to bloom; is it so hard to believe some nonbelievers were born to facilitate hot beef injections?

Now, about handling one's own wiener: On the occasion of the Oscars, I've decided to review the film (that's right, shot on 35 mm, transferred to digibeta!) that swept February's Oscars of porn, the AVN Awards. The flick, so coyly referred to in this week's headline, is The Fashionistas (Evil Angel). Bogey shankers among us can rest assured this flick exceeds your average 18 holes, including plenty sunk on the back nine, and might even be on par, production- and plot-wise, with greats from the '70s Golden Age. High stroke index? That depends on your proclivities. Handsome Italian Stallion Rocco Siffredi—who I first heard about when my older brother described a scene in which the star stuck a woman's head in a toilet and flushed as he came—vogues as handsome Italian Stallion and famed fashion designer Antonio. Just divorced amid highly publicized rumors of extramarital sexual deviance, he comes to L.A. in search of an s/m-influenced house to partner with. As Derek Zoolander once said, "There has got to be more to life than just being really, really, really, ridiculously good-looking."

In his hotel room, Antonio watches a DVD pitch from a group called Fashionista, headed up by Helena (Taylor St. Claire), in which the latex-clad team crashes a mock show of his and rips the models' dresses off to exploding flashbulbs. (I hope someone sent Malcom McLaren his royalty check.) Hearing a commotion, Antonio peers outside his door and sees an exceedingly busty dom—who's still probably not as busty as Dom DeLuise—wearing a ridiculous hat and sunglasses, haranguing her slave, in a gray Catwoman suit. The dom—Helena, setting Antonio up—shoves her slave onto the floor of their room, and the Stallion jumps a deck wall to spy on them through a glass door.

Inside, Helena kicks a magazine rack across the floor and slaps, spanks, and sits on the poor girl's face, growing even more vicious after the girl, getting smothered, claws at Helena's top, spilling her milk-jugs. Antonio ain't crying over spilled anything, and when Helena storms out, he creeps in and reddens some ass himself. Unzipping the lass bit by bit and sweating prodigiously, he fucks her without ceremony but with great concentration, then performs, in pretzel positions, his patented shove-it-all-the-way-down-her-throat-and-hold-it-til-her-phlegm's-coming-out-around-it maneuver, while uttering salty, charmingly accented language. Helena returns and exposes the ruse, to Antonio's amusement, then Frenches the Italian-DNA-smeared slave, to his even greater amusement.

Sold on the fringe benefits, Antonio makes plans to visit the Fashionista office and begin work on his new line ("Baby, are you tired? 'Cause you've been running through my mind all day," just doesn't cut it with the dungeon set). Large 'ho Brooke (Friday) hotly anticipates his arrival, while Eddie, the flagrantly gay designer with a "BITCH" nameplate necklace, sets off a curiously never-resolved motif by suggesting Antonio may have a propensity for flagrant gays. Quiet, simply dressed Jesse—Belladonna, here playing a Fashionista marketing mastermind and Helena's home slave—stays mum. At the initial meeting, Helena blathers about how her fashions "tweak all kinds of repressed desires," and Eddie, in response to Antonio's questions regarding the discomfort of latex, convinces him to try on a pair of silly, practically painted-on pants that far exceed descriptions like banana hammock, booty-chokers, and grape smugglers.

At the end of this long day of fabulousness, Antonio happens upon Brooke, in a (surprise!) latex maid's outfit and mask with eye, mouth, and pony-tail openings, and a skinny, superhot borderline-albino "nurse" (Sharon Wild). When Helena shows up to cap this exhaustion of perversions, she tops Antonio by slapping him around, and then takes it in her bottom. From here, we fall headlong into s/m fantasia, as Antonio grows more curious, and an increasingly bitchy Helena tries to block his fascination with Jesse—who produces another promo DVD for him, this one with hidden fetish bonuses showing her feet, pussy, ass, tits, mouth, and throat being abused by two guys. Isn't that sweet?

At best, in its measured elegance s/m aesthetisizes sex in a film-friendly way (in this regard, local company Bleu Visions outdoes even The Fashionistas). But besides the fact it is so ritualized as to kill porn's great and rare ability to arouse mysteriously, unexpectedly, s/m cynically caricatures the pain inherent in all human relations, rendering it merely grotesque. Not every repressed desire should be indulged, and just because you get off on something doesn't make it healthy or progressive. Call me a wet blanket, but I don't think there should be a penalty for using your wood. Then again, can you really trust someone who doesn't like having clothespins clamped to his nipples?


Evil Angel, 14141 Covello Street 8C, Van Nuys, CA 91405, www.evilangel.com

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