The Pop Culture Canary Just Swooned: Nude Calendars
This is the first in a series of Heck Of A Guy public service announcements inspired by but less brutal and arbitrary than (i.e., “ripped off from but not technically copyright infringements of”) Wired Or Tired, Hot Or Not, Jump The Shark, and their congeners.
The model here derives from the use of canaries to detect deadly gases in coal mines; because the canary is more sensitive to toxic gases than humans, the bird’s distress and death were conclusive and rather easily interpreted danger signals for miners: If the canary croaks, we’re next. In our case (which will prove, one suspects, less dramatic and, one hopes, definitely less conclusive), an early-adopting, novelty-seeking, urbane sort of fellow, comme moi par exemple, offers up his own sensibilities to alert the doubtlessly grateful masses that a once hip, once trendy pop culture phenomenon has become passé, yesterday’s news, past its prime, out of style, out of fashion, out of date, past due, old hat, demode, outmoded, … or, at least, bores or annoys me mightily.
But don’t get me wrong. Each of these ideas was a dandy in its day, and it’s not the ideas that changed. Keep in mind that
Schmucks who overuse ideas bore DrHGuy.
The point is that a large part of the attraction of these ideas was their novelty, and it follows that once the novelty is gone, so is the attraction.
My altruistic mission is to inform those who might otherwise invest money, time, and hope or subject themselves to public ridicule in the conviction that adding a new twist to a worn out concept (e.g., selling buggy whips that are also FM antennae) or relocating an expired concept (e.g., selling buggy whips in the arctic regions of Greenland) produces a new concept that is fresh, robust, and intriguing … that No, it doesn’t.
Nude Calendars
I want it on the record that I am certainly not antipathetic to nudity. Indeed, with a few idiosyncratic exceptions (my first wife comes to mind), I am admirably tolerant of nudity in general and in specific cases have invested considerable time and effort to induce that condition. While I am discomfited by the cliché, it is nonetheless true that some of my best friends have been nude. Further, keeping track of the date seems, on the whole, a reasonable enough ambition, and the coming together of these concepts in 1904 begat the girlie calendar, an undoubted enhancement to the lives of repairmen, auto parts dealers, plumbers, and the occasional movie star (most notably, Marilyn Monroe’s 1952 calendar
The Paradigm Shift
Distribution of calendars displaying naked or semi-naked subjects to a broad market and their placement in environments primarily known for characteristics other than their high grease and grime content awaited a revolutionary and inspired shift in perspective that was popularized if not originated by a women’s gardening group in England who posed nude in 1999 for a calendar to raise money for charity. In fact, almost 100,000 calendars were sold, raising $750,000 for leukemia research. (This event was memorialized in the 2003 movie, Calendar Girls.)
Rather than a calendar highlighted by a paid, provocatively posed female and given away as a freebie for its advertising value, the new model now features exhibitionistic portraiture of volunteer talent and an imprimatur-granting affiliation with a social agenda. Suddenly, nude calendars became not only acceptable but downright wholesome as fundraisers for more or less worthy causes. Local schools and churches (especially, for some reason, churches in need of bells), for example, are among the most frequent funding targets as are sports teams, wildlife preservation, fire departments, and various disease foundations. Less obvious choices include a needle exchange program and a children’s hospice. It is difficult, in fact, to find a charitable sector not benefiting from these calendars. Two of my favorites are The World’s Naturist/Nudist Community and Nude Kansas Anarchists.
These days, one can determine the date by using calendars that feature scantily clad or clothing-unencumbered college rugby players, middle-aged firemen, octogenarian gardeners, flour covered bakers, the city attorney and male council members of Seminole, Florida, Canadian curlers, Santa Fe chefs (with the subtitle that reads, inevitably, “They Cook In The Raw – And Pose In It Too”), Episcopalian women, and the list, not unlike the beat immortalized in the Sonny & Cher song, goes on.
Dozens of these calendars were produced shortly after the 1999 gardening club prototype and 200 were produced in Britain alone in 2004.
I would not have anticipated a year or two ago that this posting would be necessary, as the glut of these calendars should have led to plunging prices secondary to the Law of Supply and Demand, augmented by public fatigue. But, market forces appear to have failed us this case, and, extending Mencken’s point, Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American [or English or Canadian or Australian or ... ] public. For the reader who doubts the persistence of these items, check out Naked Charity and Nude Calendar for an up to date report of ongoing nude calendar projects. Or, take a look at the aptly named Stupid Nude Calendars (Some of the pix and many of the ads on Stupid Nude Calendars are not office- or family-friendly, although I suppose that depends on what kind of business employs you and what kind of family claims you as a member.)
The Canary’s Dying Words On Nude Calendars
So, I find it necessary to say what seems obvious (of course, I made a living doing that as a shrink): this has gone on too long. Look at the evidence. Australian TV has already produced at least one documentary on naked calendars. If that isn’t enough, the representatives of Britain’s 25,000 naturists have officially protested the phenomenon. As Andrew Welch of British Naturism, notes, “Just because something is naked, doesn’t make it naturism.” So true.
There are, for goodness sake, agencies and web sites set up to assist groups in producing and marketing such calendars. More pressing in my eyes is the fact that even the wondrous capacity and flexibility of the English language offer only a finite number of ways to present that story about the feisty grandmother baring all for charity – and that number was passed long, long ago. I now find it increasingly difficult to maintain the subtle but vital distinction between
Feisty [attractive] grandmother baring all for charity – Good
Feisty [hot & luscious] girl gone wild baring all for a t-shirt – Bad
Nonetheless, I have neither the inclination or the gumption to insist that anyone restrain himself or herself from appearing in or producing a nude calendar. If Dick Cheney wants to represent February in next year’s Hunters Are Hot calendar wearing only an orange safety vest and a strategically placed small gauge shotgun, well it’s okey dokey with me. Likewise, I have no objections to calendars featuring in the buff photos of
- Car Salesmen Who Have At One Time Or Another Worked In Omaha
- Radio Evangelists
- Ferret Owners
- Members Of The Association Of International Glaucoma Societies
- Folks Obsessed With The Passing Of Kirby Puckett
And I personally find it difficult to criticize efforts to raise funds, for example, to aid the Rwandan refugees.
I’m just suggesting, politely and respectfully, that, once the thrill is gone (and it is), nude calendars expose, in every sense, the would be stars of the production to audiences who, bored rather than titillated, are increasingly likely to respond not with the hoped for moral outrage that transforms into appreciation for the model’s beauty and appreciation his or her bravery but with eye-rolling, yawns, snickers, muttered insults, and even guffaws. That can be embarrassing on a date with an audience of one (so I’m told) and devastating to face as the (pun alert) butt of jokes for the entire community during ones reign as Ms October.
If funds must be raised by selling calendars, I urge sponsors to go offbeat. Maybe the Calendar Girls influence has been dominant long enough that the market is ready for The Sisters of Silence Salacious & Slutty Calendar flaunting those anatomical regions currently covered by coyly placed props.
Or maybe not.
Of course, the obvious against-the-mainstream tactic would be the nudist groups retaliating by producing a calendar featuring their members fully clothed.
Regardless, please, please don’t ask me to buy one.
So you wouldn’t be tempted by:
Arkansas Ankles and Areoli
The Naked Foot: When Fun Becomes a Betish
Lisa Rinna & The Art of Giving Lip
Comment by Mrs. Linklater — March 14, 2006 @ 12:50 am