"One would suppose there must be some great virtue in this 'beekeenae,' or 'bikini,' to make it so valuable in the eyes of the people of the Future; that it is the French who shall design it should be enough to put off the majority."
A piece on Heather Thomas from a 1984 issue of Orange Coast Magazine begins:
Heather Thomas hates being underestimated. The problem is, television has a habit of underestimating blondes, at least when it comes to brains. The common image is that of the blonde whose significant beauty is matched only by her tendency to be feather-headed. But what else is new? The Democrats are still feuding, the Oscars are still handed out in April, and Tommy Lasorda still thinks God is a Dodger fan.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is an intro.
To be honest, though, Heather Thomas didn't really need an intro. At least not to any adolescent male thumbing through his mother's Orange Coast looking for tasteful bikini photos. (There are none — none of Heather Thomas, anyway — though there are two blondes seductively hawking HC Formula shampoo on page 26.)
Okay. I get it. Frown if you must — and somewhere, somehow, I know my ex-girlfriend just telepathically caught wind of that last sentence and is now judging me as I write — but believe me, in the world of clandestine male stimulation, there are worse places to go to for a little gratification than a glib, pretentious Bible of yuppie West Coast consumerism.
Taking a little detour at the self-serve station might even be considered commendable if you're holding a copy of Orange Coast. At least you're using it make the world a nicer place. If only for yourself, and only for a few minutes.
That's more than the editors of Orange Coast ever did.
More morally troubling, any average male with a sensitive disposition will tell you, is endeavoring to tickle your pickle...with a Christmas catalog. (*Gasp!*) Yes, men do that. (And by men I mean teen boys ages 12 to 17, roughly speaking. It's not an exact science.) So let's get over it. End the stigma. Be the solution.
But the mind still chafes. Yes, there is an underwear section and yes, Sears does sell bikinis, even at Christmastime, but that doesn't change the fact you're looking to slake your libido while a haloed Jesus, or a puffy-cheeked Santa Clause, stares disapprovingly at you from the front cover. Are those judging eyes meant for you? Or the spoiled little brat down the street who'll ask for, and duly receive, that $129.99 GI Joe U.S.S. Flagg aircraft carrier on page 421? Wasn't Jesus pro-masturbation? I forget. It's a long book.
What would God think? Does he make an exception on his Naughty List for male teenagers, to whom he saw fit to give gonads and testosterone and working pudendum, while all but guaranteeing they'd never get to use any of it by also giving them whisker mustaches and sweaty underarms and a face so scabbed over with acne it looks like post-WW2 Berlin?
...I don't know how we got here. But I'm sort of glad we've arrived. How about you?
Anyway. Here are some vintage Heather Thomas pinups from the early 1980s. Ms. Thomas is more than a just great set of tits and some bangin' ass cleavage; women are not the sum of their jigglies. But Ms. Thomas's jigglies are some of the loveliest on record, and look especially good sheathed in a pink bikini "of such brevity she courts pneumonia," as Orange Coast Magazine puts it.
And be sure to click on the pics for a larger look (you perv). It was a hassle creating the lovely diorama you see above, mainly because I'm pretty dense and HTML is about as user-friendly as a hockey puck in the groin.
So let's appreciate.
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