As a family, we are a little less discreet these days. Along with Mylène Farmer, her gay public, Cindi Lauper, her gay public, Christophe Ciccone, his méchante soeur (Madonna), their gay public, at least one scantily clad guy*, and numerous other examples of what is fashionable and hip, our little family is having it's five seconds of fame.
The most striking aspect is just how normal and fuddy-duddy we look sandwiched among all the glitter. (And yes, how old, some of us look.)
Even coming of age in the turbulent and psychedelic place that was San Francisco in the 70's, never in my wildest youthful fantasies did I ever picture myself spread out in such a fashion on the pages of a magazine.
The world moves on, people change, and irrespective of any méchant ravings by those* who would still like to deny us our place, we exist. We be gay, we be proud, and we be family.
*I carefully perused each and every page (strictly for statistical reasons!), and I can say there is not a single image displaying full frontal nudity, male or female, in this issue of the magazine. If I missed something, and you found it, then I need to change my glasses, and you need to get a life. So the prudish corner of my being, however small, is quite safe, and even the strictest American censors would have nothing to hold onto. Not that the French give a rat's a' about American censors. :))
*Admittedly and fortunately there are not many of "those" types around our little corner of the world, this area being a hot-bed of left-leaning politics. And we have to thank a very large and very supportive family, from grandparents, to sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, and cousins galore.