Mission Accomplished

We’ve always known we were in the right, that women in New York have the legal right to bare their breasts anywhere a man can—but we’ve also always had the sneaking suspicion that not every police officer in the city knew that that was the law. Happily, as reported the other day in the New York Times (and elsewhere), the NYPD held 10 days of briefings for every cop in the city which seem to have boiled down to this: Don’t hassle women for being topless. They aren’t doing anything wrong.

So when the temperature hit 80 degrees yesterday and nine or ten of us decided shirtless was how we wanted to be and Central Park was where we felt like doing it, we were curious to see whether the lessons had sunk in.  We had our chance to find out when a cop car pulled over beside us and two of New York’s Finest came over for a chat.

“You aren’t doing anything wrong,” they volunteered.  Then they stood there a little awkwardly.  ”Has anyone bothered you?” No, we said. No one has said anything, except for this one elderly woman who stopped by with her poodle, just to say how happy we were making her.

“Was the poodle topless?” asked one of the cops.

Yes, we said. The poodle was topless.

Okay, then. The cops headed back to the car and we all looked at each other with a mixture of relief and satisfaction and bafflement.

It was a surreal encounter. Do cops go up to people crossing at the light and say, “You’re not jaywalking, ma’am, no laws being broken here”?

But we can hardly complain about the encounter. People are learning. The world is changing. And if it hadn’t been for that cheering encounter, who knows, maybe we wouldn’t have been quite bold enough to stroll the entire width of the park proudly topless.

And to the one growly woman who muttered as she passed us, “There are children here!” we respectfully reply: Yes, there are. And maybe they’ll grow up healthier for it.

Dutch Treat

There are a few living legends in the pulp fiction racket, and probably the biggest of them all right now is Elmore Leonard, known to friends and fans as “Dutch.”  If you’ve seen movies like GET SHORTY or OUT OF SIGHT or Quentin Tarantino’s JACKIE BROWN or the Christian Bale/Russell Crowe Western 3:10 TO YUMA or the TV series JUSTIFIED, you know Dutch’s work.  Doubly so if you’ve read any of his amazing books.

Well, who do you think is a fan of our little book club? Someone on his staff brought the Outdoor Co-Ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society to his attention, and he said, “Send them some books!” Few days later, a care package arrived in the mail, and opening it was like opening a treasure chest.  GLITZ! STICK! FREAKY DEAKY! RUM PUNCH! One great book after another.

So of course we had to take them out to the park, it being warm at last.

Thank you, Dutch.  Your books are in good hands, we promise.

Spring Ahead

Hot on the heels (and we do mean hot!) of an unseasonably warm December, here it’s early April and the mercury is already hitting 80 degrees. Ample reason to kick off our new season of topless sojourns in the sun a bit earlier than normal.

And if that weren’t enough reason (and it would be, believe me), starting early also gave us a chance to visit Central Park in the company of one of the nicest, most interesting people on the planet, the video blogger-diarist-documentarian known on YouTube as Beckie0, who is briefly in town from her native England. Hats off to Becca (though for much of the day she sensibly and stylishly kept hers on) for being brave enough to taste the New York sun in our company.

And what of the rest of us? Well, we met some new friends and cracked open some new books (including — thank you Hard Case Crime! — early advance copies of new novels by Stephen King and Elissa Wald), discussed the merits of Dr. Who and Benedict Cumberbatch and whether Wallace Shawn is or isn’t adorable, debated the definitions of “dialectic” and “apogee,” ate miniature cupcakes before they melted in the sun, and best of all, felt the sun — glorious, radiant, blessed sun! — on our Vitamin D-starved bare skin. Do our nipples look hard in some of these pictures? That’s just them straining heliotropically toward the sun.

More, please!  More more more more more. It’s going to be a fine summer, and with any luck, a long one.

 

Snow Day

You wake up in the morning, look out the window, and see the city transformed.  What was a gray, stony thing is sparkling and white. Fat, fluffy flakes fall. Bare branches glitter like something in a confectioner’s window, or an old Currier and Ives print, or your favorite scene from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  Your breath catches and your heart skips. You race to the computer and find your friends similarly enthralled. This being March, it might be the last snow of the year. You have a yen to be outdoors in it, to lie on your back and let the white stuff come down on you, to pack it between your palms, to feel it crunch underfoot, to feel like a kid again. To drink a steaming cup of hot chocolate (or black coffee, or Earl Grey tea with milk) and feel it warm you inside after an exhilarating moment in the freezing outdoors.

You want a snow day.

And by god, you take one.

Thank you, New York City, for being so glorious sometimes. Yes, today it’s all going to be slush. But yesterday it was nothing but joy.

I Know What We’ll Be Reading Next Summer

Just announced by our friends at Hard Case Crime.

Of course, it doesn’t come out until October, but I have a feeling we’ll be able to talk them into giving us some copies early.

Coldest Day of the Year

Was it 14 degrees? 20 degrees? Depends what time you checked the thermometer, but one thing’s for sure: It was damn cold today in New York City. Which made it a lousy day for outdoor toplessness but an outstanding one for visiting a spa equipped with a hot sauna, a hotter steam room, a batch of massage tables, skillful masseuses, and the makings of mimosas. (And doughnuts, and some other yummy things to eat.  And books, of course–lots of books, ones trashy enough we didn’t mind damaging them by lugging them into a sauna.)

So we met, ten of us, nine f and one m, got naked or nearly so, and killed a day knocking back Kava and Tropicana, letting the sauna defrost our flash-frozen tuchuses, and letting a team of gifted professionals unknot the muscles in our shoulders, backs, thighs, aforementioned tuchuses, and more.

Did we bring a camera? Of course we did. But the lights were low, leaving us with a choice between dim, blurry pictures or garish high-contrast ones taken with a flash that would make Weegee look subtle. We got what we got. And now you get what we got.

Someday the sun will return, and like the swallows, we’ll return with it. But in the meantime–a better time, with a better crew of comrades, could not have been had.

Stay warm.

Best of the Year

So…it’s almost New Year’s Eve, snow is on the ground (but not deep, fluffy, fun snow–blah snow), and shivering people in Times Square are beginning to count down to the big ball drop. Hard to imagine a time less conducive to outdoor toplessness. Any naked reading that’s going to get done in New York today will be behind closed doors, under a comforter, with a mug of hot chocolate or hot buttered rum. But rather than bemoaning the situation we’re counting our blessings (hot buttered rum!), thinking ahead to next summer’s adventures, and looking back over this year’s.

With that in mind, we thought we’d check to see which of the pictures we posted this year were the most popular, based on how many people clicked on them.  (We only counted topless pictures, since whenever we post bottomless pictures the clicks seem to spike upwards thanks to visits from our friends at Reddit.)  The results follow.  Enjoy, and know that we’re all counting down the seconds, too, until the mercury rises and we can peel down again: 12,960,000… 12,959,999… 12,959,998...

ETA: Oh, all right, one bottomless pic. Our most popular. Happy new year from all your friends at OCTPFAS.

 

Global Warming

Since when has it ever been 60 degrees in New York City in December…? Since the polar ice caps started melting is when, and it’s nothing to cheer about. But if a cloud ever had a silver lining it’s this: we woke up with the insatiable desire to get our shirts off outdoors, for what will surely be the last time this year.

We met up on the west side of Central Park, scant yards away from the classy, century-old apartment buildings of Central Park West. The trees set a fine example, being bare of leaves, and we shed layer after layer until we were similarly denuded. Then, realizing that 60 degrees is a far cry from 90 degrees, we put some bits of clothing back on…but only some, and only bits, so that we could enjoy the pleasant breeze and the sun against our skin.

Is there anything better than this? We had gourmet chocolate and apricot hamentaschen and onion bagels and coconut water, and books by Stephen King and Harlan Ellison and Lawrence Block and Russell Hill, and a conversation that ranged from David Foster Wallace to equine gerontology, from acupuncture as a treatment for sinus conditions to library science, and from Buffy to Angel. (Okay, maybe not such a big spread there.)

And now we’re all aching to do it again!  But when? How?

There was talk of naked snow angels the first time enough snow sticks.  We’ll see. But if you felt like whistling “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…” we wouldn’t say nay.

Easy Ryders

So, what’s a girl to do when it’s 38 degrees outside? Find someplace indoors that’s warm and inviting, with shelves full of great old paperback books and original pulp cover art hanging on the walls.  Like, for instance, the private, invitation-only Fulton Ryder art gallery and bookstore on Manhattan’s upper east side, owned by renowned artist Richard Prince.

Mr. P and his team made us all feel most welcome and gave us glimpses of some never-before-seen artwork, as well as items from his remarkable personal collection, such as a first edition of THE BIG SLEEP inscribed by Raymond Chandler in 1939. And if that wasn’t enough to make us salivate, there were pastries and warm beverages and, best of all, a chance to see each other again after far too many weeks of CTWS (that’s Co-ed Topless Withdrawal Syndrome, in case you’re wondering).

When and where will we meet next? Who knows? But we bet there are other suitable hidden spots in this great city of ours that would welcome a visit from OCTPFAS. If you know of any, suggestions are always welcome…

Soaking In the Last Rays…

So here we are, October. Every warm day we get is an unexpected bonus. The leaves have begun to turn, the breeze sprints instead of dawdling, and you hear the steps of winter’s boots in the gravel, approaching. A time for us to chase down the last rays of summer sun, like a straw chasing the last sip of some sumptuous beverage left in the bottom of a glass. Sip…siiiip…and the last trickle delightfully slides down your throat.

2012 has been such a lovely year. We’ve made good friends, read good books. And it’s not over yet! But the days of balmy afternoons on green grasses are at an end. Adieu, mercury straining toward the triple digits! Bonjour, warm socks and sweaters. But before we go, let us display our customary defiance to custom with some photos of our final day in the sun, at lunchtime in the middle of midtown Manhattan’s most crowded little oasis, Bryant Park.