ELEGANZ

Bounce Me in my Rubber Suit

Lisa Robinson

Did you see the recent Viva spread on cock rings? It’s a step forward to recognize their heterosexual potential to be sure, but Viva didn’t go far enough. For cock rings could become truly important as a decorative as well as a functioning fashion. In case you’re not familiar with this rising phenomenon, they’re metal rings one puts on one’s cock to (supposedly) make sex more intense... last longer. Generally you would go to a store like The Pleasure Chest (230 Columbus Ave., N.Y. 10023 — a famous New York chain that specializes in such goodies as locker room ampules) to try one on. Of course this necessitates getting hard to make sure the thing fits, so if you’re lucky, you might end up having sex with the attendant...

Anyway, as I said, the possibilities for this marvelous object are endless. You could have coke spoons hanging from it if you were an L.A. press agent. You could have it specially engraved.

You could have two tied together. .. or more. Leee Black Childers suggested that you could have a cock ring attached with a chain to a dildo with which you could fuck yourself in the ass. You could wear your boyfriend’s

cock ring around your neck. (Actually, I’m told that some do.) They could replace key rings in suburban wifeswapping parties. Tiffany engraved cock rings. A silver brush and comb set and a rattle and a baby cock ring. Instead of the present straight society’s emphasis on engagement rings, if a guy and a gal wanted to get married she could give him a sterling silver cock ring with all of the healthier implications. Would it be true what they would say about copper cock rings? What about vibrating cock rings. Cock ring handcuffs — heavy bondage. You might have trouble walking through airport security checks with one on, but think what fun it would be to strip and freak out the guards.

The point is that people are certainly starting to get bored enough with fashion that perhaps the only interesting thing left is to taker things formerly considered Taboo and bring them out front clotheswise. People always react to what they think is sexy, and it’s merely a question Of owning up to your own fantasies^ When in London recently, the most amusing item I purchased was a rubber coat from SEX on Kings Road (formerly called Let It Rock, same owner). Malcolm McLaren, who runs it, stocks all kinds of cute things like rubber face masks, bras, gloves, stockings and body suits for the fetishists. There are also ruffled hotpink crinolines and sleeveless 1-shirts emblazoned with pornopassages like “She felt the seed stir at the pit of her belly in response to the strong tonguing movements. Gladys’ hand now pushed forward on Doreen’s superb buttocks so that she could drink deeper at the well of her desire. ” And, *7 groaned with pain as he eased the pressure in removing the thing which had split me and then, his huge hands grasping me at the hips, my blonde hair forming a pool on the dark wood between his feet, he raised me to doting love soothing the, bleeding lips and causing the tearing commotion at my loins to subside in a soft corrosion. ” Like that. But then there are also the Regular Clothes, simple skirts and coats and dresses, reasonably priced — which just happen to be made out of rubber.

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Now of course there is a danger when one says “I bought a rubber coat.” Fran Lebowitz will sneer. Richard Williams will think it a mighty expensive practical joke. The concept almost makes the reality passe, wearing it at all is an afterthought. You’ll get all the obvious cracks, from Lester Bangs’ “Rubber suits will never become passe, divers have been wearing them for years,” to one man’s “I’ll be over in ten minutes with a pound of butter.” But, take my word for it (or better yet, find out for yourself), the actual wearing of rubber feels very sexy. It’s also a great way to get to know people, if you know what I mean. It moves well, it’s easy to keep clean (black in particular, you just hose it down) and it keeps you cool or warm depending on the weather. The only time to worry is in places where the heat is intense, it starts to smell funny. And of course there is the undeniable kinkiness of wearing something made out of a fabric usually associated with bathtubs in insane anylums or heavy bondage mail order catalogues with names like “Fantasia,” “Whip Maid,” “Centurians,” and “Bishop on Bondage.” To say nothing of magazines like “Rubber Life” or “Rubber Nurse.” (RUBBER NURSE???)

If rubber will ever become street fashion, I hate to think. But forget that. The idea that Nona Hendryx could wear whips and handcuffs as part of her stage outfit at the Metropolitan Opera House yet — well, that’s very sexy. Underground fashion has always been closely related to sexual mores, and I have no doubt that S&M is the next thing to be 'corrupted. But for the moment, rubber still can be fun.

So can silly underwear. Fredrick’s of Hollywood was the first and most well known place to go for crotchless panties, fringed g-strings, etc. etc.; but. .. am I wrong or have you also noticed similar stores popping up all over? Walking onto Madison Avenue the other day after a particularly chic luncheon with promoter Howard Stein, we ran smack into one such establishment. As Howard ran off to get an advance copy of Uomo Vogue, I checked out the latest in slit-crotch body stockings. Not only is this underwear fast becoming an advanced art form, the little old ladies who work in these stores are amazingly adept at demonstrating — zipping and unzipping, snapping and unsnapping with great finesse. Now here again is fashion that more often than not is incredibly practical as well as enjoyably unorthodox.

Look, during the supposed party that was the 1960s, clothes were costumes and at that time, they were fun. Even up to a few years ago a boy in a feather boa and high heels and a dab of mascara was a giggle. Now a boy in a feather boa, high heels and mascara is Jobriath, and no one is smiling anymore. So you might as well explore the really low life side of fashion and see which of it works for you. Catering to your own personal fantasies.., even if it means wearing a rubber face mask and looking like a World War I aviator, is certainly much less harmful than trying to emulate, say, David Bowie.