bill-swift - October 16, 2014
The thought of Nina Agdal laying across any number of the bearskin rugs I keep in my home in just her Calvins is enough to make me forget about Marky Mark and how creepy I've always found Calvin Klein. In fact, it's enough to make me forget my first name and just smile broadly from the happy tingles coursing from head to toe and circling back to the bobos.
In this William Lords pictorial in black and white, Nina shows she is a sextastic super model force to be reckoned with. She's got it all working. The hair, the body, the eyes, the looks, the intangible allure thing right through the roof. If I were thirteen again, I'd probably have this lead photo buried somewhere underneath my bed for evening hours perusal. But I'm not thirteen anymore so I think I'll stick it right on the wall. Score one for adulthood. Enjoy.