The Museum of Sex recently opened in New York City. Unlike the
wow TV series Sex in the City, which is strangely, obliquely
conservative (well, with a small ‘c’), this museum intends to show
how even sex in America transforms its meaning and purpose (not
part of the war aims in Texas). Like a massive version of a porn
shop, the building façade that confronts the passer-by as
he or she rounds the corner on East 27th Street, is curiously composed
of a frontage of frosted green glass. The Fifth Avenue address belies
a certain perceived sleaziness not dispelled by underdressed females
at the pay points. The museum aims to reveal all sexual antics and
vices galore. There is also a curious sideshow, a cabinet where
revolting medical pornography is set out together with cautionary
exhibits of the effects of tertiary syphilis.





