These “nudes with Christmas lights” were all the rage last year.

I haven’t seen nearly as many this time around.

I guess a fad can become a cliche pretty quickly.

Or maybe no one is in the mood.

Happy Solstice!

Jean Harlow by Edward Bower Hesser, 1928

“I like to wake up each morning feeling a new man.”
—Jean Harlow

I never met a nude typist I didn’t want to post.

Between the election and NaNoWrimo, I’m slacking on the blog.

I am at 21,307 words.

So, I’m not actually slacking on everything.

I shall celebrate with naked ladies!

Witches’ Sabbat in Paris, ca. 1910

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Scene 6

Via Sexy Witch

roman T photography, click image for original

I’ve always wanted fancy lingerie.  Whole drawers of it.

It just fits some fantasy I have about being grown up.

My acquisition of it has been sketchy and fraught with peril.

You wouldn’t think that underwear would be so dramatic, but that’s probably because you haven’t thought about it enough.

Sure, there are things you can get away with–robes, maybe nighties.  Bras and panties meant for everyday use.

It’s the stuff meant to make an impression that ends up silk and lace time bombs.

It’s expensive and delicate, basically it’s near-disposable, but you buy it anyway.

It doesn’t age well.

It sometimes ends up relationship-specific.  Bought for someone else. Or, worse, by someone else.  Ghosts in the pantie drawer.

Or, it can make the wrong impression. Their eyes don’t light up, and you can tell they’re trying not to laugh at you. It wasn’t in the budget, and you can see the mental math.  More often it’s just that your attempts to impress don’t matter.

And, it never looks the way it does in pictures.  It’s hard to feel sexy when you think you look like an hippo in a tutu.

But, one day.  One day I’ll do it.

I will.

"Oakdale Corner Nude Stand," via VintageNerds

If you look at vintage nudes, you can tell where the 5lbs of powermesh and elastic landed. At the waist. They’ve got indented waists.

June Palmer, probably shot by Harrison Marks, sometime in the 60's, also via VintageNerds

Now, if you look at enough recent nudes, on many woman with any reasonably amount of body fat, you can see where the denim lands—you can see the residual effects of ten years of low waist jeans and the thongs they seem to require. The so-called “muffin top” zone. On a lot of women, you can see where bra lands in that space under the arm, too. I know I’ve got a permanent strap indention in each shoulder.

It’s not one of those things a lot of people consciously see, but now I can’t un-see it.

London Andrews in Chicago.

It’s like the spot where your lost ring used to be or the ridge where your glasses land.

Only nuder.

Art Vision 53, 2008, Mirabilia Images, presumably the model is Mira Nedyalkov, but don't hold me to that.

Seemed like a good day for nude fine art.

I am not 100% sure what separates the “fine” art from the “not fine” art.  Maybe it has something to do with pricing?

Art Vision 21, Mirabilia Images

Mirabilia Images is Luciano Marino, a photographer, and Mira Nedyalkov, an artist and model.  I really couldn’t find anything about her online, but I assume she’s the model in a lot of these.

Art Vision 57, Insomnia 2, Mirabilia Images, 2008

They’ve done some fantastic work in color, too, which you can see here.  Unfortunately, they also seem to have contributed to the “Dead Girl Chic” trend.

What is it with the high fashion corpse?

Do men really wear their watches up that high up on the wrist? Also, if you click through to see this in the original color? It completely ruins the effect.

There are some spots on the body that work better than others–they’re more sensitve.  There are people that can be had just by blowing on the right spot on their neck or having their thighs touched just so.

Where his hand is on her side up there?

That spot sets off a cascade of other spots.  Some spots tense up.  The chest lifts.  The lungs empty.

I’m also really sensitive along my pelvic bone–the jutting-out part of the hips.  It’s partway between ticklish and arousing.

And, I just can’t cope with having the backs of my knees touched.  I don’t know why.  It’s like I’m incredibly vulnerable there.  I plead for the spot to be left alone. I kick and hyperventilate.  I just can’t stand it.  Which is useful if a man is feeling sadistic.

I could only track it back to DeviantArt.

This one is Russian.

http://ccile.tumblr.com/

Some days you just wanna look at people that have been tied up.