By Amit Epstein | 08/04/2010
Easter is one of the holidays I'm not sure I truly get. Except for the Christian (one might say almost childish) need to celebrate every time we do and the pagan symbolic urge to announce spring, the idiosyncratic link between a dead Jew's rebirth(?!) and chocolate eggs leaves me obscure.
The associations of an average Israeli with the term "Germany" is loaded, but one can say it is mainly composed of four foundations: "Historical" (the Holocaust), "Cultural" (classical music, literature), "Mental" (discipline, strictness, pedantry) and "Physical" (nudity and porn). I still remember that day, shortly after I've moved to this area, as I've noticed a new shop. They had a very elegant yet disturbing display window that got me curious, but due to their unconventional opening hours at the first week I had no chance to pay a visit. In that metal framed window hanged a large white plastic sign, hiding the view into the shop. On it, at the center, a red bull's head with a nose ring was printed. The only objects on display were three identical items, kind of a hybrid between jewelry and medical tool, made out of silver shiny metal, each constructed of three erected poles, a ring attaching them together and a screwing mechanism. I was not able to decode the purpose of their existence, so first chance I had I've stepped in to find out. Inside was a tattooed and pierced man, in a widespread Berlin-aesthetic. In the common courtesy typical for a potential-client & a salesman relationship we've greeted each other. He identified as the shop owner and I've congratulated him for the opening. He apologized that the merchandise has not yet fully arrived, therefore the shelves are almost empty. I've asked him to interpret the sense of the object in the window for me. He smiled and said it’s a tool to assist the horse while he's breeding the mare, and suggested I'll have a look at the other side of that display-window sign, to view his usage suggestion, as one photo is worth a thousand words.
Indeed, it is awfully hard to find any words to describe that photo; I'd better do it with one deep heartfelt scream, but the medium will decline: to his claim – and by his picturesque demonstration, played by himself I realized as my oxygen and blood supply systems restarted – it is probable and desirable to abuse this object as one mate holds you down on a metal operation-bed while another mate inserts it into your rear end, then broaden it with the supplementary screwing mechanism.
Retroactively I learned that this is a shop designed for the advanced fetishists, that is those who are bored by the offers of the other four sex shops in the street (in one of them you can buy a rubber pig mask). You can get a unique (that's an understatement) assortment of objects and especially leather and vinyl tailored garments. After all, so I've heard, the owner was a costume designer at the Vienna opera house, before he took on his independent way.