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Carmen Electra was born Tara Leigh Patrick on April 20, 1972 in Sharonville, Ohio, to Patricia Rose (Kincade), a singer, and Harry Stanley Patrick, an entertainer and guitarist. She is of mostly English, German, and Irish descent. She grew up near Cincinnati, Ohio and got her first boost when a ...

Actress |
Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

Born in Los Angeles, California, blonde bombshell Cindy Margolis is a talk show host, model and actress. Before You Tube, Facebook, Instagram and all the other social media applications, Cindy Margolis stood alone as the greatest self promoter on the Internet. Crowned the Most Downloaded Woman on ...

Vida Guerra was born on March 19, 1974 in Havana, Cuba. She is an actress, known for CHIPS (2017), Mercy for Angels (2015) and Scarface: The World Is Yours (2006).

Arianny Celeste was born on November 12, 1985 in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA. She is an actress, known for Batman vs. Catwoman (2013), The Hollywood Puppet Show (2017) and Humanity (2011).

Cute, slim and sunny blonde sprite Sara Jean Underwood was born on March 26, 1984, in Portland, Oregon. She was on the volleyball team in junior high school. She graduated from Scappoose High School in Scappoose, Oregon, in 2002. Her first job was assisting in the sales of heavy construction ...

Kara Monaco was born on February 26th, 1983 in Lakeland, Florida. Prior to becoming a Playmate, she worked as a bartender, modeled swimwear and lingerie in Florida, and appeared in FHM and Men's Fitness magazines. Kara also worked at Disney World, where she was one of the performers who portrayed "...

Willa first became popular in 2001 as the self proclaimed Bad Girl of Pop when she released her debut album. Outside of music Willa hosts a few reality television shows. Also after studying opera for over four years Willa achieved a degree as a professional opera singer and is also whistle ...

Joanna Krupa was born on April 23, 1979 in Warsaw, Mazowieckie, Poland. She is an actress and producer, known for Planet of the Apes (2001), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000) and InAPPropriate Comedy (2013). She has been married to Douglas Nunes since August 4, 2018. They have one child. She ...

Christy Hemme was born on October 28, 1980 in Temecula, California, USA. She is an actress, known for Fallen Angels (2006), WWE Smackdown! (1999) and TNA iMPACT! Wrestling (2004). She has been married to Charley Patterson since May 8, 2010. They have five children.

Torrie Wilson and "The Franchise" Shane Douglas made one of the most dynamic duos in professional wrestling during the late 1990s and early 2000s. Torrie spent a great amount of time in WCW, when she was not fulfilling her potential until she became the valet for The Franchise Shane Douglas. Using ...

By Suzan Sherman • 06/10/02 12:00am

My mother told me to do it. Initially, I was horrified by her suggestion that I intern at a porn magazine, but soon the feeling turned to titillating curiosity. Her best friend’s daughter worked at Penthouse —sadly, my family’s only connection to the New York publishing world. My mother described the job as “a foot in the door.” I giddily contemplated the possibilities offered by this “experience”—editorially speaking and, presumably, beyond.

Now, as the quaint world of print pornography quietly shuffles through what many are calling its twilight, I look back fondly to the summer of 1988, the summer that I became Penthouse ‘s first (and, at the time, only) intern.
Every morning, my father and I would commute together from suburban Long Island. He’d drop me off at the Penthouse offices on Broadway and then head crosstown to his upstanding job at the United Nations.

My first day, I wore a pressed skirt and blouse, though when I emerged from the elevator into a corridor hung with framed posters of naked Pets on Bob Guccione’s knee, I wondered whether the dress code was nothing at all. The editor in chief looked me over as if I were Snow White fluttering into his den of perversity. I was certain he could discern, with his pornographer’s X-ray vision, that I was still a virgin.

Peter was middle-aged, with dark, thinning hair, though his strongest feature was his teeth, which were incredibly crooked, giving him a kinky menace when he smiled at me. He led me around the narrow banks of cubicles and introduced me to everyone on staff, most of whom were women. (To rationalize their work, they quoted the First Amendment constantly, with the righteous flourish of Bible-thumpers.) Some appeared indifferent to my presence, while others looked me over with concern, as if they were witnessing the conclusion of my wholesome girlhood.
Much of my time was spent reading the slush pile, which was composed of bizarre, poorly written short stories, usually sci-fi, where women’s measurements were more amply described than character or plot line. Then there were the infamous Penthouse Forum letters—the sexual escapades, real or imagined, of “ordinary” men. Hunched over my desk, I found myself more than slightly aroused by my first-time foray into libidinous wordplay. My favorite was the well-endowed lawn boy who, with a few deep thrusts, defrosted the haughty housewife. I also liked the mailman and the lusty ladies on his route who licked his postage stamps (and more). The Forum editor was a smart-talking, gum-chewing, big-haired gal who wore spandex pants nearly every day. She crossed out sentences with red pencil between chortles and burst Bubblicious bubbles. At the other end of the spectrum was the prudish, tight-lipped copy editor who let me proofread every article except the Forum, as if this would preserve my fast-fleeting purity.

Sexual slurs, I soon discovered, occurred offhandedly between coworkers; no one seemed to realize how deeply the magazine’s content had invaded our psyches. After one of his martini lunches, the editor in chief stumbled over to my cubicle and slurred, “Can I come into your box?” “Sure,” I breathed, testing my burgeoning sexuality, “come.” Later in the week, he gave me Susan Minot’s story collection, Lust and Other Stories , as a gift. I smiled sweetly—this innocence of mine, I noted almost immediately, had a certain cachet around the Penthouse offices. My virginity was palpable; it was as strange and rare as a near-extinct animal and seemed to leave everyone wracked with ambivalence on whether to preserve it or kill it. Holding Lust to my chest, I told Peter that I would read it.

Naturally, in this heightened atmosphere, I developed a crush on a co-worker. He was the mildest, most befuddled man in the office: Bob, the managing editor. I dreamed about him incessantly, imagining us in a variety of uncomfortable poses, usually involving his desk, the sharp edges of which poked with painful pleasure into my hips. Bob had worked at Penthouse for years, though he was still clearly uneasy with the magazine’s content. When I would knock on his door to tell him that his mother or fiancée was on the phone, a centerfold inevitably lay splayed across his desk. Bob checked each photo for splotches and inconsistencies, but when our eyes would meet, his face reddened with shame. My crush was inevitably short-lived: I turned the page on Bob, as I had the numerous steamy scenarios in the magazine.
I brought the July issue home to show my parents. My mother passed over the centerfold with a nod, though her face revealed an expression of pure disgust. Clearly, until now, she’d been unaware of the magazine’s actual content. Skimming the pages, she described what she saw there as “naughty,” as if Penthouse were a disobedient child that needed her punishing. Flipping to the back, she settled on a sobering article of some sort. “Look how thick it is,” my father piped in, adding, “A lot of advertising this month.” I chuckled at my father’s slip of the tongue, which my mother seemed not to have noticed.

After dinner, I stashed the magazine under my bed. Penthouse deserved a dark, dusty and secretive space, despite my parents’ peculiar acceptance of porn. Every night, I opened it wide to the center, exposing the three metal staples securing the pages. The Pets, with their perfectly feathered hair, seemed to coo in silent ecstasy, their parted lips revealing a bit of tooth or tongue. Their nails were long and perfectly painted, unlike my own bitten-down stubs that ran over the magazine’s cool gloss, smudging the pages. Their breasts seemed inflated, like water balloons near bursting, and their pudenda were swollen and shaved to a thin swatch of heart-shaped fuzz. I was both disgusted and fascinated by this pornographic perfection. I attempted to mirror their droopy bedroom eyes and parted lips before I went to sleep in my twin bed.

At work, during my lunch hour, I began to paint my nails—”Lickety Split” and “Transpire,” my colors of choice. I knew the feminists at my college went righteously unshaven and would consider me a traitor for picking up a razor, but I didn’t care. I shaved, reasoning that their bookish beliefs weren’t nearly as exhilarating as my smooth skin, which I groomed in preparation for the impending plucking of my petals.
On my last day at Penthouse , the editor in chief gave me a good-bye gift: an oval abalone pin set in silver that I still have but never wear. “Here,” he said, “let me put it on for you.” As he sent the sharp pin through my blouse, I felt a small stinging prick as it hit my skin and a pleasurable quiver as he rested his hand on my chest. I smiled demurely back at him. My innocence by then had an ironic, knowing edge. Later, when I took off my blouse, I saw that Peter’s pinprick had drawn a small dollop of blood—not exactly the stimulating stuff of a Forum letter, but, I figured, it was a start.

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The tale of music journalism as often told is a very male one. Rolling Stone, Creem, NME, Melody Maker. All had their great female journalists, but the usual names that come up are Lester Bangs, Charles Shaar Murray, Greil Marcus, Nick Kent, Steven Wells, and so on.
However, there's an earlier story, and a parallel one. Before the boys, music magazines catered primarily to a young female market, establishing the audience for writing about pop culture. And although teen pop mags would come to be derided by some in comparison to the more "serious" rock magazines, they frequently sold better and, in recent years, they've been critically reappraised, with due respect being given to those that paved the way with their often great writing. "What's so bad about groovy?" asked Professor Norma Coates at last month's Pop Conference , hosted by Seattle's Museum of Pop Culture.
Here's our list of some of the great teen mags of their day, right up to the present.
Teen mags first got going in the US, and Seventeen was launched in 1944 as a very civic-minded effort aimed at helping teenage girls to develop into the best women they could be. "Seventeen is your magazine, High School Girls of America - all yours! It is interested only in you... you're going to have to run this show - so the sooner you start thinking about it, the better."
Seventeen developed as the concept of the teenager did, and helped - through their reader surveys - to define that emerging market for advertisers. It published poems and stories by a young Sylvia Plath, and also from its earliest days, featured articles on music, shifting deftly with the times. In 1944, it was Bing Crosby and Cab Calloway , while in 1962, Connie Francis was the star alongside now-dubious articles such as 'Science confuses you, and math? Strictly for boys!', 'You'd like to marry young - and you probably will', and, 'You wish you knew an older man with a mustache.' But by the 90s, there were features on riot grrrl bands and Aaliyah , and around the turn of the millennium, the resurgence of the pop market saw female pop stars making the cover as often as models, from Christina Aguilera and Pink to Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez .
The oldest magazine in this list, Seventeen is still rolling with the punches with a circulation of over 2 million. You can read more about its impressive history in Fashioning Teenagers: A Cultural History of Seventeen Magazine by Kelley Massoni.
Published by Dundee firm DC Thomson - best known for The Beano, The Dandy and Oor Wullie - Jackie ran from 1964 until 1993 with the subtitle 'for go-ahead teens'. It focussed mainly on romance and teen life with a strong focus on pop (its first cover star was Cliff Richard , the second Joe Meek protege Heinz , and the third George Harrison ) and was the best-selling teen mag for a decade.
One of its first teen writers was future children's author Jacqueline Wilson, who joined the staff age 17, and models featured in its photostories and fashion shoots over the years included Garbage 's Shirley Manson , newsreader Fiona Bruce, Hugh Grant and Leslie Ash. It also featured weekly pullout pop posters and a Silly Star File, a section that focused on light-hearted interviews.
Throughout its classic 70s era, it featured the likes of the Bay City Rollers and Hot Chocolate . Punk was less visible, though there were features on The Clash and The Stranglers , and a "beautiful Bob Geldof pinup". In the 80s, it moved on to Duran Duran and The Human League , then in the 90s to New Kids on the Block , Jason Donovan and Bros .
Though its Cathy and Claire advice column had been controversial in its day, by this time, Jackie was starting to look a bit quaintly dated, and seeing the way the market was moving, DC Thomson opted to close the mag rather than go down the route of making it more sexually explicit and high-fashion. Jackie still holds a place in the affections of many women who grew up reading it, and in 2013, its inspired a new musical, in which Jackie, a fifty-something divorcee, uses the advice in her old magazine's problem pages to guide her back into the world of modern dating.
Published by Fleetway in the UK from 1964 to 1980, this mag - as the name might suggest - was initially heavily Beatles-focused, with full-colour pinups, a big sell in the days of black-and-white inkies. The '208' was added after the magazine signed a deal with Radio Luxembourg to print its listings from 1966, 208 being the station's wavelength. At is peak, Fabulous had a circulation of 250,000 - almost four times as much as the biggest-selling music magazines in the UK today.
Celebrity guest editors in its early days included Donovan , Cat Stevens , Gerry Marsden , The Kinks and Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich . In its later years, it moved more towards targeting teen girls explicitly but found itself outflanked on both sides by both Jackie and Smash Hits.
A glossy UK music monthly, Rave launched in 1964 with richer photography and longer articles on the 60s music scene than the weeklies. A more 'serious' approach to music journalism, covering the likes of The Yardbirds , The Byrds and The Who didn't prevent it squarely aiming itself at women, though. As well as the obligatory
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