The Playboy Wall

In my apartment, we have a Playboy wall. She originated as a decoration for my twentieth birthday party, themed Bunny turns 20. Me and my roommates have been collecting vintage Playboys for years, so we had plenty of material to work with. For this party, I wanted it to feel like the Playmates had killed Hugh Hefner and taken over the mansion; an all girls, all night sextravaganza. I put out a trunk filled with all my favorite costume and lingerie pieces, and everyone played dress up. There were photoshoots and fashion shows and sparkly cocktails. Quite literally one of the best nights of my life. 

Anyways, after the party, the Playboys just stayed up. More were added, rearranged, curated by season or theme. Which brings me to my main point: Our home is filled with naked women. Naked women gazing lustfully down at you,  naked women on the fridge with cheeky smiles, naked women dancing and playing and winking from all angles. Because I spend so much time here it’s easy to forget the taboo of nudity, until I invite a new guest over, or my dad comes to visit, and all of the sudden I scan around the living room and pussy is all that meets the eye. I guess it's jarring for some.