Hunter Ingram Anyone flipping past a cable channel late at night in the back half of the 1990s and early aughts probably had ads for “Girls Gone Wild” seared into their brains.
The instantly recognizable infomercials projected purposefully pixelated footage of young women pulling up their shirts to flash the cameras between shots at a college town bar, or in the fog of spring break in Miami.
The “Girls Gone Wild” logo strategically covered any explicit nudity, while an announcer with all the subtlety of a foghorn hocked VHS tapes and eventually DVDs full of the unobstructed footage “too hot to show on TV.” All of it was pitched as a chance to see the good girl next door go bad — for a low price, plus shipping and handling.
For most people, the heyday of “Girls Gone Wild,” the brainchild of Joe Francis, feels like it happened a lifetime ago. Francis’ close association with people like the Kardashians and Ashton Kutcher at the height of “Girls Gone Wild” certainly places his meteoric ascent in a specific time at the dawn of reality TV and before widespread social media.
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