There was a time long ago when there was no such thing as the Internet, and adult flicks were watched not on a laptop but on the giant screen of an actual theater. There was a time when the taboo of explicit sex performed on camera was something to be broken, when such films employed actors and actresses, and scripts – such as they were – were real things you could read and hold in your hands. Of course, thanks to silicone and the ability to stream video on even the most rudimentary of smartphones, things are much different now, but if time and evolution has made porn into a creature that walks upright, in the 1970s it was a neanderthal of both camp and elegance.
Which is why, when I learned that 70s porn icon Seka would be signing copies of her autobiography “Inside Seka” at the and her cohorts all fucked on film, but back then there were no half-assed celebrity sex tapes floating around and countless links to porn at the revving of a search engine. Back then, porn was SOMETHING.
I’ve been to some interesting book events, so one set up in lobby of the Museum of Sex – amidst an array of, well, all sorts of sex stuff – didn’t phase me. However, talking to Seka in person was a unique experience (I’ve interviewed thousands of fighters, but never any pornstars, much less iconic ones). It left me sweating profusely and, according to her PR person, beet-red.
There were photographers there, snapping away, and there were fans, each one vacillating between creepy and courteous. Throughout it all, Seka was both down-to-earth and dignified. Imagine a smut convention in Las Vegas populated by the vacuous and fake – this was the exact opposite. Seka was real.
Time makes everyone older, and that’s true of even pornstars. But what is timeless is their impact on our culture, and in that regard, Seka – whose platinum-blond hair and Swedish Erotica-mandated scarf encapsulated an entire decade of social mores overcome – will remain as stunning as the first time she appeared on screen.