Photographer: “Okay, so this one’s for the album—no, not the album cover, we’re gonna print it right on the damn album, because that’s the only way to make sure they’ll actually take it out of the sleeve. The hole in the middle? Um, we’ll put it on your chin—like a beauty mark. Like, you know, a Madonna thing.”

Photographer: “So here’s what I’m thinking: all those teenage boys, they go to historical theme parks and they see those costumed interpreters, and they’re supposed to be learning about candle making or some shit, but they’re actually just picturing those frontier women naked. Am I right, or am I right?”

Photographer: “It’s like you’re saying, ‘Oh, no, a bird just shat on me!’ But you’re saying it in, like, a really sexy way. Can you do that for me?”

Photographer: “So what we’re going for here is kind of like a sorry-I’m-not-sorry nip slip situation. Like, you’re just hanging around after school gossiping with your girlfriends, and one of them has just said to you, ‘Um, Sam? Your boob is kind of slipping out of your shirt.’ And you’re like, ‘Oh, is it?'”

Photographer: “This one is for the Bob Fosse fans. They’re gonna look at this and be like, ‘Jazz hands! Gimme jazz hands! Please, for the love of God, give me jazz hands!”

Photographer: “This will be for the December issue. You’re sending out your Christmas cards, just like any other girl would: naked, on a fur rug.”

Photographer: “Don’t worry, the term ‘political correctness’ won’t even be invented for another decade.”

Photographer: “No, we don’t have an ASPCA representative in the studio! What could be cruel about this?”

Photographer: “This shows that you’re a tough, modern woman: self-sufficient, and into fitness. I mean, guys have to take their shirts off to box, so it’s only fair, right?”

Photographer: “I don’t even fucking know…I mean, we’ve done everything. What’ve we got laying around here? Ducks? Sure, that’ll work. Just hold up these ducks, babe…oh, and take your tits out.”

– Jay Gabler