Bash Compactor: The Naked City

How many naked women does it take to make a New York Times bestseller? Thirty-five, if enough people buy acclaimed erotic photojournalist [Andrew Einhorn]’s new book, [Naked Coast to Coast](http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Coast-Andrew-Einhorn/dp/097933148X). The book features over 800 naked pics of “the beautiful, exotic and diverse women of New York and San Francisco,” chronicling Einhorn’s first two seasons on the reality series Naked Happy Girls.

Before I went into the [book party last week], at artist Ryan McGinness’ Centre Street studio, I stood outside and watched artist and body-painter extraordinaire Andy Golub drive up in his psychedelic-pimped out car. McGinnes’ lair, on the sixth floor, definitely puts the walk in walkup, but if you want fine nakedness, I guess it doesn’t come easy.

At least that’s the impression I got from a low-budget film producer who marveled at how Einhorn was getting women to drop their drawers. He said that women who audition for his films often renege on the nudity. “What’s his little trick?” he quipped, then later begged me to retract his name and statements because he didn’t want to end up in Google search.

I wasn’t concerned with starting a catfight between artists; I had to get in line to see a book of naked women. To my surprise, the book was engaging and, dare I say, artistic. It’s not naked women but pictures of women doing what they usually do—studying, playing with their dog, smoking weed—but they just happen to be without clothes. You can’t really appreciate the book when a bunch of mofos are breathing down your neck for their turn, but for $40 bucks you can take a bunch of naked women home. Each spread opens with an interview: Talia the Lawyer intrigued me when I read she’d be happy if her clients or co-workers saw the pics.

Sunny, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so happy but she’d deal with it. I sat down with her as she watched video (for the first time) projected on the wall from her first nude shoot. “Do you feel strange?” I asked. “No,” she beamed. “I’m fine with it. Everyone has seen a naked woman.”

Yes, but I can only stare at a strange naked woman for so long before it gets weird. I skipped the rooftop photo shoot where everyone was supposed to strip down, but not before pressing the flesh with Einhorn. The photographer, who does have a noticeable charm, said the book is “sexy but journalistic” and he likes the women to “have fun and be comfortable.” Then he asked me if I was going to pose for him. I could write about it, he suggested. I said I’d call him, but I lied.