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Nailing Down The Greasy Line Between High Fashion Photography And Smut

Okay, I sort of hate the word "smut." Just typing it makes me feel like I've got my hair in a tight bun and am delivering a shrill lecture while tossing your copies of D.H. Lawrence or "Flowers For Algernon" on the fire. (Baaalllllllllzac.) I'm a liberal child of (mostly) liberal parents and was born and raised in the sex-drenched Sodom & Gomorrah of the country: San Francisco. I believe that I'm Okay, You're Okay, that sex is fantastic, fun and should be empowering and that it's wrong to criminalize sex or any (consensual) sex act. Plus I write for this site which is all about boobs, abs, and, oh yes, the occasional film review. That being said, there are some smutty, creepy-ass photos in the magazines the kids are reading these days. And it's not sexy, it's not.

Frank/graphic sexuality as subject matter is, of course, nothing new. (Just

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