The Seven Year Itch is one of Marilyn Monroe’s iconic roles. She’s great in it, but the movie is stagey and clunky and some of its humorous elements haven’t aged well. But Monroe successfully personifies temptation as the upstairs neighbor of married schlub Tom Ewell, and her sexy-but-virginal interplay with him demonstrates once again that she was a uniquely talented comic actress. There’s also really no way to overstate her beauty, nor the ease with which she inhabited these sorts of oops-I-made-you-love-me roles. Simply put, she made everything better, and did it with skill and something more—pure magic. The promo shots below show her famed upskirt scene, which, by the way, never occurs in quite this form in the film. Onscreen we only see her legs twice and two reaction shots. Not sure why director Billy Wilder made that decision—the whole of Monroe is surely better than just a part, no? The German title of the movie was Das verflixte 7. Jahr, which means “the cursed seventh year,” and the poster you see above is from the West German re-release of the film in 1966. The Seven Year Itch, with Monroe, Ewell, and Evelyn Keyes, originally premiered in West Germany today in 1955.

Marilyn Monroe was perhaps the most photographed celebrity of her era, so when she died it was only natural that scores of magazines released tribute issues. One of the most comprehensive was published by Paris Match today in 1962, just shy of two weeks after Monroe’s death, and it featured a thirty-six page retrospective of her life and career. Above you see the cover of that issue, and below you’ll find all of the accompanying photographs, including several that have been less widely seen, such as those near the bottom showing her making faces while doing acting exercises. We have scans from another Monroe tribute issue made just after her death—this one by Italy’s Epoca—and you can see those here.

Collier’s isn’t the most visually striking of magazines, but this issue that hit newsstands today in 1954 caught our eye because it contains several nice photos of Marilyn Monroe. There’s also a bit of interesting graphic art, specifically a colorful baseball illustration by Willard Mullin. The other item that attracted us was a story called “What Price Security?” about U.S. government overreach in its search for communists. No art to speak of, but the content gives a window onto the Red Scare period of American life. Author Charlotte Knight tells readers that government efforts against communism have been “so irresponsibly administered that it may have done more harm to the United States than to its enemies.” Sound familiar?

Knight slams witch hunting Senator Joseph McCarthy, and characterizes the fervor around alleged subversives in Washington, D.C. as creating a ripe environment for paranoiacs and liars to ruin innocent people. But of course, as well written as Knight’s article is, she should not have been surprised by anything she discovered. Witch hunts always become vehicles for revenge, personal advancement, and profiteering, because society and politics become warped in such a way as to clear a path for these pursuits. History invariably judges such periods as human tragedies and political failures, though sadly, too late for the ruined and the dead. Scans below.

Above, the incomparable Marilyn Monroe in two promos made for U.S. Independence Day. Many actresses posed for similar July 4th shots, but these are two of the nicer ones. And she's wearing those Lucite platform heels again. Man, she absolutely lived in those. See here and here. Monroe made these photos in 1953 when she was filming How To Marry a Millionaire, the hit comedy in which she and two pals move into a fancy hotel and use it to attract rich suitors. Guess who played one of the other gold diggers and was actually top-billed in the film? Betty Grable. Why is that curious? Well, let’s just say Hollywood’s difficulty coming up with new ideas is not a new problem. See the next post. 

This issue of Paris Frou Frou appeared in 1956 with cover star Marilyn Monroe in costume for her role in the classic comedy Bus Stop. Inside the issue she's garbed for Otto Preminger’s River of No Return, an interesting quasi-western that’s worth a viewing just to see Monroe and her co-star Robert Mitchum together. Elsewhere you get Kim Novak, dancer Vera Bell, and Mamie van Doren. Van Doren and Novak are still with us, and that fact serves to remind that—incredible as it may seem—Monroe would be eighty-nine now if not for her unfortunate suicide (or murder, if you want to go that direction). Considering how long she’s been dead, and how deeply her current-day identity is tied to her death, it’s a bit of a shocking thought. Eleven scans below.

We’ve shown you a couple of Technicolor lithographs with overlays. Before we get off the subject for a while we want to show you one more item. This lithograph featuring Marilyn Monroe isn't technically an overlay because the nightgown is printed on the paper, but it's a smiliar idea. The image is best known as the centerfold of the debut issue of Playboy from December 1953, but it originally hit the market as part of a 1952 calendar, which means it went on sale in late 1951. The only text featured on those original calendars was the title “Golden Dreams,” but the above litho has both a title and Monroe’s name because it was a re-release designed to take advantage of her growing fame. That fame had waned since a favorably received role in 1948’s Ladies of the Chorus, but had been rekindled when she admitted to newspapers in early 1953 that she had posed nude. The Playboy centerfold further turbocharged her ascent, and the famous velvet photo kept appearing over and over again, mainly as calendar shots in 1955, 1956, and 1958, and at least three times with different types of obscuring overlays. In all those images, as well as the one above, Monroe is facing the opposite direction from the photo that appeared in Playboy. However, the Playboy centerfold is reversed from the original calendar shot, so it was Hugh Hefner who flip-flopped her. But from whichever direction you look at her, and in whatever garb she appears, Monroe is still exquisitely Monroe.

Confidential gives Kim Novak the cover and Lili St Cyr the inset on an issue published this month in 1965. Inside, the editors offer readers mostly lukewarm rehash, as was Confidential’s usual approach during its fangless mid-1960’s years, but there are also a few interesting tidbits. We learn that Lili St. Cyr took more than thirty Nembutals during her 1958 suicide attempt, yet still managed to survive though as few as three pills can be fatal. Ramfis Trujillo’s wild Parisian parties are detailed, including the time he and his entourage shot up the lobby of the Hotel George V. And we find out that Frank Sinatra paid a $400 fine in Spain for disturbing the peace when he blew up after a woman threw a drink on him.

How about we share something truly rare and amazing? At top you see the front of a Japanese promotional pamphlet for Marilyn Monroe’s 1960 movie Let’s Make Love, and just above you see the original promo image from which the pamphlet cover was made. This is exactly how we react, by the way, when the Pulp Intl. girlfriends say the same to us. 

Top Secret is in fine form in this issue from October 1962 as it goes after all the biggest celebrities in Hollywood and Europe. Treading the line between journalism and slander is no easy feat, but take notice—Top Secret’s editors and hacks manage to pull off a high wire act. And of course this was key to the tabloids' modus operandi—they had to present information in a seemingly fearless or even iconoclastic way, yet never actually cross the line that would land them in court.

Christina Paolozzi gets roughed up thusly: “If anything, Christina in the buff is proof that clothes are an underdeveloped girl’s best friends. Therethe Countess stands with a pleased expression that seems to say, ‘Aren’t I something, Mister?’ But all it takes is one quick look to see that there isn’t really anything to get excited about—unless [you love] barbecued spareribs.”

This issue of Top Secret is, succinctly put, a clinic in mid-century tabloid writing—alliterative and spicy, insinuative and sleazy, but never quite legally actionable. How could Ekberg argue that the tugboat similie wasn’t interpretable as a compliment? Could Christina Paolozzi deny that her ribs show? Could Sinatra claim that his bodyguards neverslugged a photographer? The magazine skirts the edge a bit with Taylor—did you catch how the editors paired “urges for Dick(ie)” with “wide open ways”?—but was she misquoted or truly slandered? Highly doubtful. Top Secret is pure, trashy genius. Magazines don’t have such writing anymore, and that’s probably a good thing—but it sure is fun to look back at how things were. More scans below.