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Dressing for Pleasure in Rubber, Vinyl & Leather: The Best of Atomage 1972-1980
For early devotees of leather, rubber and vinyl fetish wear, Atomage magazine was the underground bible of the 1970s. Founded, designed and published by the English designer John Sutcliffe as a platform for his extraordinary talents as a manufacturer of weatherproofs for lady pillion riders, it quickly became a rallying point for explorers of every kind of fledgling clothing scene, functioning as both an instruction manual and a mirror. The experimental clothing showcased in its pages, including items made by the readers themselves, transformed a passion for a sexual proclivity into a cult phenomenon. From motorbiking and mask-wearing, to mudlarking and wading worship, Atomage covered every conceivable variant on and use for fetish wear. The amateur photographs reproduced here reflect a golden age of DIY enthusiasm, before fetish became the industry it is today, and inadvertently depict a suburbia from which dressing for pleasure was a necessary escape. The outrageous costumes found in Atomage also served as inspiration to a then-new generation of fashion designers such as Vivienne Westwood, and many of these costumes have since been acquired by high-end collections. Compiling the most astonishing imagery from all 32 issues of this now extremely rare and sought after cult magazine, Dressing for Pleasure illustrates not just Sutcliffe's exceptional designs, but also, through their own photography and writings, the fantasies and desires of the Atomage followers.
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208 pages, Hardcover
First published November 30, 2010
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
February 10, 2023
Ok...truth be told...this one kind of creeped me out a bit. No judgement here; just not my cup of tea. One of the thoughts that kept coming back to me is HOW HOT you must get wearing this stuff! Kind of a 'work-out' (depending on what you are doing) just by putting this on! On a subconscious level I think I saw a movie where a killer wore this - probably that is where my vibes are coming from!
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February 20, 2011Yay, karen brissette got me this, um, Valentine! I'm not sure exactly what it means or whether it is an intimation of my hobbies, but I am prepared to enjoy the hell out of it, no matter what. Thank you, brissy, for this wonderful (also: strange, in a good way) gift. I hope you didn't pay anything nearing the cover price of this book because wow. You've got to be wealthy, apparently, to look at snuffy pics of sturdy women in droopy PVC. Some of these outfits need to be tightened up just a bit. Or inflated. I don't know which, being but a novice in this sartorial realm.
Review: coming soon.
Did I tell you that I got to see karen again recently? No? Well, I got to see karen again recently. And Greg too, but you probably already assumed that because they're fucking all the time. It's hard (get it???) to locate karen at a time when Greg's helpful and amiable phallus is not inserted into her mysterious ladyparts. I should know. I've tried. Anyway, a few weeks ago, it was about fourteen days ago, and I happened to be in New York City, looking for baubles at De Beers for my high-priced, heart-of-gold call girl, and thought I should pop in (not the same way Greg does though) to see karen because maybe she's doing something I can scold her for. Like enjoying Canadians or eating animal flesh. I'd actually prefer it if she ate Canadians. Starting with Nickelback. With my longtime companion brian, who was being a terrible bitch that day, I went to this much-ballyhooed Barnes & Noble Union Square Flagship Store. I know I get in trouble for building up my expectations, but the store itself left me unwowed. I was anticipating -- I don't know -- the Taj Mafuckinghal of Barneses and Nobles, but it was the same dreary sort of corporate affair with scuffed farmhouse tables and sub-IKEA shelving that you can find in any B&N, in any city. Okay, so maybe there's more of it. More dreariness. But jeezus... B&N needs a makeover. They've worn that beaten-down New England college library look down to the nubbin. How about some pizzazz? But I digress. So whilst brian, the aforementioned bitch, was busy distracting karen -- she knew he was coming to visit and was suitably unexcited -- I went up the escalator and barged into their conversation with an intemperate question about the quality of the B&N house edition of Little Women. Well, so much for knowledgeable; karen had little opinion on the subject. But then Greg sidled over. It was probably time for him to fornicate with karen again in the self-help section. Those two! When they aren't fucking, they're eating rice pudding. But who says the activities are mutually exclusive, right? Anyway, Greg says that he thought I might show up. As if he sensed some disturbance in the force, like when Darth Vader is moping around the Death Star in Star Wars (retroactively rebranded Star Wars: A New Hope) and all of a sudden he seems to smell a mega-fart, like Grand Moff baked an air biscuit in the corridor -- but what really happened is that he sensed, through his forcefulness, that Obi-Wan 'Ben' Kenobi was somewhere nearby. That's the way it was with Greg and me apparently. Even though I live in Indiana and have vowed a lifelong vendetta against the B&N Flagship Store, he somehow sensed that I would be there. I asked karen to find me a Charles Portis book, and -- hey! -- she actually did. She wasn't nearly as inept at her job as Eh said she was. So... points for brissy! But then I got distracted and itchy and decided I didn't want the book at all. I am impulsive. I asked Greg some questions about books that were on display, but he was ignorant and unhelpful. I could tell he wanted me to leave so he could get back to all that fucking he does with karen all the time. Of course, I criticized karen's tables because the books were at sixes and sevens, in uneven piles. It was a very poor recovery. She dished out some excuse about it being late in the day, blah, blah, blah, but a truly competent bookseller wouldn't allow her tables to become so disheveled. But despite karen's incompetence and Greg's ignorance, I love them both very much in an inappropriate way, and it was great to see them in their native habitat. No, I don't mean behind a dumpster, fucking up a dust storm. I mean, pretending to be useful, efficient, and industrious.
Review: coming soon.
Did I tell you that I got to see karen again recently? No? Well, I got to see karen again recently. And Greg too, but you probably already assumed that because they're fucking all the time. It's hard (get it???) to locate karen at a time when Greg's helpful and amiable phallus is not inserted into her mysterious ladyparts. I should know. I've tried. Anyway, a few weeks ago, it was about fourteen days ago, and I happened to be in New York City, looking for baubles at De Beers for my high-priced, heart-of-gold call girl, and thought I should pop in (not the same way Greg does though) to see karen because maybe she's doing something I can scold her for. Like enjoying Canadians or eating animal flesh. I'd actually prefer it if she ate Canadians. Starting with Nickelback. With my longtime companion brian, who was being a terrible bitch that day, I went to this much-ballyhooed Barnes & Noble Union Square Flagship Store. I know I get in trouble for building up my expectations, but the store itself left me unwowed. I was anticipating -- I don't know -- the Taj Mafuckinghal of Barneses and Nobles, but it was the same dreary sort of corporate affair with scuffed farmhouse tables and sub-IKEA shelving that you can find in any B&N, in any city. Okay, so maybe there's more of it. More dreariness. But jeezus... B&N needs a makeover. They've worn that beaten-down New England college library look down to the nubbin. How about some pizzazz? But I digress. So whilst brian, the aforementioned bitch, was busy distracting karen -- she knew he was coming to visit and was suitably unexcited -- I went up the escalator and barged into their conversation with an intemperate question about the quality of the B&N house edition of Little Women. Well, so much for knowledgeable; karen had little opinion on the subject. But then Greg sidled over. It was probably time for him to fornicate with karen again in the self-help section. Those two! When they aren't fucking, they're eating rice pudding. But who says the activities are mutually exclusive, right? Anyway, Greg says that he thought I might show up. As if he sensed some disturbance in the force, like when Darth Vader is moping around the Death Star in Star Wars (retroactively rebranded Star Wars: A New Hope) and all of a sudden he seems to smell a mega-fart, like Grand Moff baked an air biscuit in the corridor -- but what really happened is that he sensed, through his forcefulness, that Obi-Wan 'Ben' Kenobi was somewhere nearby. That's the way it was with Greg and me apparently. Even though I live in Indiana and have vowed a lifelong vendetta against the B&N Flagship Store, he somehow sensed that I would be there. I asked karen to find me a Charles Portis book, and -- hey! -- she actually did. She wasn't nearly as inept at her job as Eh said she was. So... points for brissy! But then I got distracted and itchy and decided I didn't want the book at all. I am impulsive. I asked Greg some questions about books that were on display, but he was ignorant and unhelpful. I could tell he wanted me to leave so he could get back to all that fucking he does with karen all the time. Of course, I criticized karen's tables because the books were at sixes and sevens, in uneven piles. It was a very poor recovery. She dished out some excuse about it being late in the day, blah, blah, blah, but a truly competent bookseller wouldn't allow her tables to become so disheveled. But despite karen's incompetence and Greg's ignorance, I love them both very much in an inappropriate way, and it was great to see them in their native habitat. No, I don't mean behind a dumpster, fucking up a dust storm. I mean, pretending to be useful, efficient, and industrious.
August 27, 2014
Surprising Fetish Photography
The pictures in this book are fantastic. Tons of imaginative leather, latex and rubber outfits. Two things really struck me about these photos: First, I tend to see more modern fetish photography of this type in urban settings and indoors. This book has a lot of shots of people clad in black wandering through nature, wading through streams and whatnot. It's a really fun juxtaposition. Second, there is more tenderness in this than I expected, with really cute shots of couples kissing and whatnot. It actually seems kind of innocent in a way.
My only complaint is that there isn't more writing. I would have liked more info about the photos themselves, although I understand things like model names and names of outfits may not have been recorded. The reader letters are informative about what this fetish means to people, but I would have liked to see more of them or more about Atomage magazine in general.
The pictures in this book are fantastic. Tons of imaginative leather, latex and rubber outfits. Two things really struck me about these photos: First, I tend to see more modern fetish photography of this type in urban settings and indoors. This book has a lot of shots of people clad in black wandering through nature, wading through streams and whatnot. It's a really fun juxtaposition. Second, there is more tenderness in this than I expected, with really cute shots of couples kissing and whatnot. It actually seems kind of innocent in a way.
My only complaint is that there isn't more writing. I would have liked more info about the photos themselves, although I understand things like model names and names of outfits may not have been recorded. The reader letters are informative about what this fetish means to people, but I would have liked to see more of them or more about Atomage magazine in general.
January 21, 2015
An interesting little book (it measures 8 by 5 1/2 inches) of fetish photography reproduced from a British magazine, Atom Age, that was published in the 1970's. A lot of the photos are black and white, but there are a number of color shots as we. The cover is representative of the subject matter. There are also a few pages that explain how the magazine came to be as well as pay tribute to its creator. The last few pages of the book contain the cover pictures from all 32 issues of the magazine that were published.
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February 11, 2011Would this not be just the perfect Coffee Table book ever??!!
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews