Apparently, there's this magazine called Love, which is helmed by some woman everybody who is beautiful loves, and her latest issue is all about the body or something, which is code for "let's run a lot of photos of naked women who are fabulous and famous but are not wearing any underpants." That, my friends, is internet gold.
Ergo, the models are famous, beautiful, and naked. They are Lara Stone, Daria Werbowy, Kate Moss, and a bunch of other broads. Fashion Gone Rogue, which I read more times a day than is psychologically healthy, has them here, and here, and here. I think there's more somewhere else, but, eh, whatever.
I love these images. I think they are beautiful, and real (by which I mean "real," but whatever), and fabulous. Each one has the girl's measurements, and there's some little text with some of them that has the chick bitching about or saying something weird or whatever about her body, which is fine and sort of interesting. Like Daria has a "love/hate thing" with her body, which is sort of amazing, considering I would just parade up and down the street naked all day if I looked like Daria naked. Yet, I do not.
Of course, the Huffington Post has to generate some linkbait "DUR, IS THIS PORN OR ART" poll (here, baited), which is reductivist and retarded. No easy task, that.
My only problem with the series is that it's a blatant ripoff of the divine Helmut Newton, aka God with a Camera. See? See? Yes, maybe you do. I could say "in my opinion," but isn't that sort of inferred with a blog?
A long time ago, I interviewed the late Mr. Newton over the telephone, and I asked him how to take a picture of a naked woman, and he said, "Yoo take ovf dee clodes, yoo prop zee gurl awp in dee corner, and you take da piktcha." Or something like that.
Anyway, boobs. You're welcome.