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IMG_6172It was Erev Pesach (look it up), and — miracle of miracles! — the sun broke through, the temperature climbed, and suddenly it felt like spring. Hell, it felt like summer. And it felt so very, very good.

IMG_6158IMG_6202Several of us hightailed it to Washington Square Park, carrying baked goods from Orwasher’s, including prune and poppyseed hamentashen (wrong holiday, we know), sourdough bagels, raspberry brioche, and one very delicious, hand-filled raspberry jelly doughnut.

IMG_6165Also books, including advance copies of Donald E. Westlake’s FOREVER AND A DEATH, based on a story he came up with for a James Bond movie that never got filmed. Very cool.

IMG_6151Speaking of cool, there was also this guy dancing in an inflatable purple T-Rex costume.

IMG_6257How do you top that? We don’t know. He certainly got more strange looks than we did. And that felt so very, very good too.

IMG_6150IMG_6218IMG_6208cOh — and a tip of a hat to living in one of the most multicultural cities in the world:

IMG_6239 Chag sameach, y’all.

IMG_9821Last week, we told you about how we worked with an outfit called Doob to create little 3D-printed replicas of ourselves, and promised to show you some more photos of the end results. Herewith, then: the end results. Photographed outdoors and in, uptown and down, it’s us in miniature, taking over NYC.

First, we unboxed ourselves near Times Square —

IMG_9806IMG_9812IMG_9826Then a subway ride down to Washington Square Park put us squarely in the midst of the International Women’s Day march.

IMG_5578IMG_5593IMG_5598IMG_5607In City Hall Park, where the mayor does his work, we found a central spot where brides and grooms and tourists pose for selfies, and we thought, why not?

IMG_5838IMG_5893IMG_5923It turned into a teaching moment when a young boy with mom in tow walked over.

IMG_5875“What are those…bumps?” the curious lad asked, pointing. Never too young to hear the answer. Chests come in different shapes and sizes. The explanation satisfied everyone.

IMG_5876Back uptown we visited an office with a high-rise view:

IMG_9837IMG_9845IMG_9863IMG_9883And then back in the bubblewrap we went, for safe transportation home.

IMG_9828Some of you have asked if you could order copies of our Doobs, and in theory we could arrange that, but each one of these things cost a couple hundred dollars, and you only get a 20% discount for printing duplicates. So realistically it’s prohibitive. But if you like what you saw and do have the money, why not head over to Doob and get one made of yourself? Honestly, there’s nothing quite like holding yourself in the palm of your hand.


IMG_5882It was Christmastime, and one of us was wandering the Upper East Side, ticking items off a shopping list: tinsel, check; lights, yep; presents for the niece; and so on. When what to our wond’ring eyes should appear, but a miniature… Well, what was it? A miniature what? Not a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer — something far more intriguing than that. It was a store filled with miniature people. And pets, but mostly people. And they looked insanely lifelike, like the handiwork of a mad scientist with a shrink-ray in some old sci-fi movie. A shrink-ray combined with a freeze-ray, maybe. Or just a shrink-ray, if the mad scientist wielding it was also a gorgon. Or…

It was a place called Doob.

IMG_7203What Doob does is take photographs of you — 45 photographs, to be exact, all shot simultaneously, by 45 separate cameras in a Westworld-worthy, THX-1138-sterile chamber of soul-capturing awesomeness

IMG_7181— and then composite them into a single 3D model, which they send to a 3D printer, and…voila, six weeks later, you’ve gestated yourself a little miniature…you.

IMG_9851Yes, that’s right: a mini-you, in any pose you want, wearing whatever you want, in sizes ranging from action figure to Barbie to you-can’t-afford-it.

IMG_7121And when we saw this, we immediately knew we had to go there as a group and get miniature naked Doobs of ourselves.

Assuming, of course, that the company wouldn’t be too uptight to let a half-dozen naked women into their magic booth. Happily they weren’t. They were, in fact, a pleasure to deal with in every possible way. Their one request was that we do the shoot downtown in their SoHo location (SoHo dwellers presumably being more open to the sight of naked people getting miniaturized than Upper East Siders). So one frosty evening in January, we traipsed in and, with the aid of some body paint, some fishnets, and a few costume pieces that didn’t cover a whole lot, we got ourselves Doobed.

IMG_7169CIMG_7239IMG_7305The results were pretty amazing — so much so that they deserve (and will shortly get) their own post. For now, enjoy these photos of the process. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them in the comments section, or just contact Doob yourself. (To tackle some common ones: Yes, it’s expensive. No, you don’t have to hold your pose for long — just a few seconds. Yes, you can take a second photo if you don’t like how the first one comes out. No, we don’t know why it takes 6 weeks from photography to having a finished printed Doob. Yes, you can order extras if you like how they came out — in theory, we could print thousands and give a miniature naked statue to every one of our fans. No, we don’t plan to.)

The whole thing was a trip. And now there are miniatures of us out in the wild. Just statues for now — but just imagine what’ll come next…



IMG_6092What are the French known for? Yes, existentialist philosophy and admiration of Jerry Lewis, but those aren’t the things we’re thinking of. Fine food, that’s one; fine wine; and a liberal attitude toward nudity.

We’re happy to report we got to enjoy all three this week at the venerable Les Halles restaurant down on John Street.

IMG_6105IMG_6067IMG_6023Just a stone’s throw from the World Trade Center but tucked away discreetly, they’ll serve you the classics — escargot, soupe a l’oignon, vin rouge, creme brulee — and if you ask to be seated in the tiny private room in the back, they might even let you enjoy it in the altogether.

IMG_6118Now, it’s still fitfully winter outside (it snowed again this morning), so in deference to the temperatures (and the furniture), we kept our bottoms on, along with the occasional sweater or scarf.

IMG_6054IMG_6097But our indefatigable waitress made it clear she wouldn’t have been offended if we’d stripped off the rest. And you know what? French food works better when you eat it with a roomful of naked friends. (What food doesn’t? Okay, fondue. But that’s about it.)

IMG_6041Several bottles of wine made a fine foundation for some intense conversations–

IMG_6093–and much kvelling over flavors.

IMG_6058Want to join us for a decadent, delicious, liberating naked dinner sometime? Or maybe, when it warms up properly, a topless dejeuner sur l’herbe in the park? Drop us a note at Women of every description welcome — just bring an adventurous appetite.


img_9792There’s something magical about how winter cedes its place to spring in New York.

Just two weeks ago, Central Park looked like this —

img_9229—–and it took a lot of bravery, of a different sort than we usually exhibit, to take your shirt off in the blasting cold.

img_9243A fortnight later, and it’s in the mid-sixties — practically balmy! — and people are taking their tops off left and right. And by people we of course mean men.

img_9746So why not us? Why not, indeed.

img_9753img_9759The surprise onset of warmer weather meant we couldn’t get a proper group together in time to carpe the diem, but one of our long-time members (Not even 18 yet the first time she contacted us! And now 22 — how time flies) decided today was a day for soaking up some Vitamin D.

img_9789TL/DR: The trees are still bare, and so are we. And all be want to say about that (setting aside any consideration of global warming) is: what a wonderful world.

img_9770P.S. Want to join us the next time it’s warm enough to get topless in the great outdoors? We always have room for one more. If you’re a body-positive woman in NYC and either know you want to try this or are trying to work up the nerve, drop us a note:

There’s no other feeling quite like it. And there’s no reason only men should get to enjoy it.


img_9721What’s that old saw, for public speakers with stage fright or actors with butterflies in the stomach — picture everyone in the audience naked? Or is it “in their underwear”? Well, either way, we got to make a cast of three wonderful actors more comfortable the night after Valentine’s Day when we showed up for the 8pm performance of Kristin Heckler’s new play, EXPOSED, at the Sonnet Theater in Times Square.

img_9635img_9630The play is the story of the so-called “Duke porn star,” Belle Knox, who turned to porn to pay her college tuition and was then called upon to defend the choice after being outed by a classmate. She became world-famous in the process, and though she never wanted to be one, she became a powerful spokesperson for feminism, for body freedom and sexual liberty, and for the simple premise that there’s nothing shameful about a woman choosing to make use of her body as she wishes. What could be a better fit for our group? And what could be a better play to attend…well, exposed?

So that’s what we did, arriving a half hour beforehand for some wine and Schmackary’s

img_9607img_9535then watching the mesmerizing performances, and then engaging the cast and the writer/director for a thorough Q&A.

img_9687img_9675Did we just show up and strip down? No — they not only knew we were coming, they invited us. Kristin has been a supporter of ours for ages and saw the possibilities even before we did. And we have to say we’ve never been made to feel more welcome. The theater was warm (thank goodness!) and the reception even warmer. The actors — Sarah Raimondi as Belle (here renamed “Ariel,” continuing the Disney theme); Pauline Sherrow as all the other female characters, from college roommate to porn co-stars; and Jacob-Sebastian Phillips as all the males, from dad to director to derogatory Duke dudebros — were all fully committed not only to their roles (as you have to be in a show that opens with the main character masturbating on a table) but also to the premise of the play, and of our group: that women are entitled to freedom and to respect, and to be sexual beings, and that possessing a vagina isn’t justification for abuse.

It is a harrowing show — some scenes are hard to get through — but also a powerful one, and ultimately a redemptive one. And there’s something wonderful about a night at the theater where the big nude scene isn’t one that happens on stage.

img_9534img_9517img_9661We may not be the perfect audience for every show, but for one that’s about asserting your independence, defending your right to liberty, and overcoming a sexual scandal? Yes, for that we’re the perfect audience.

We’re looking at you, Hamilton.


img_9025Two weeks ago, it snowed in New York City. A beautiful blanket of white. Then, this past week, it rained torrentially — a beautiful blanket of wet. Neither, alas, the ideal climate for outdoor topless book-reading (or outdoor topless much of anything else). What does our noble band do on days like these?

We meet indoors. And what do we do indoors? Well, a bunch of different sorts of things, but one of our favorites is to work on our strength and serenity, since both of those are a) in short supply and b) much needed in the world today. So on the eve of the big protest marches in D.C. and New York (and every other place on the face of the planet), a dozen of us went to learn yoga and Pilates from Willow, the instructor/owner of New York’s Naked in Motion.

img_9042img_9107img_8940And what a wonderful evening it was! Talk about an inspiring leader — Willow was the model of a welcoming, knowledgable, warm and thoughtful instructor,

img_8928helping us through stretches and poses and exercises

img_8829img_8842img_9076that many of us thought we wouldn’t be able to pull off. Were we sore after? Sure — but only in the best way. (And she brought strawberries and Oreos to soothe the hurt.)

img_8968img_9026This wasn’t a special naked session just for us, by the way — as the name suggests, Naked in Motion is all about the naked. (And about the motion, of course. But that you can get at any yoga class.) There are weekly co-ed nude sessions and monthly women-and-trans-only classes for anyone more comfortable in a single-sex environment. Boundaries are respected (and politely but firmly enforced), to ensure a positive experience for all. If you’d like to try it yourself sometime, or just for more information, you can write to Willow at

And if you’re a body-positive woman in the New York area and would like to join us for one of our events (can’t promise it’ll be yoga — but it’ll be something cool), drop us a note:

Either way: get naked. And savor both stillness and motion.