PHOTOS by Mіchаеl Whіtе


ADDED June 12, 2005 © BODY in MIND


June 12, 2005.

Offіcе Swееt

by Leanne and Dwаynе Bеll

Legend has it they were nudists. That's why they wanted a home so far into the wilderness. And what a home he gave them! Designed in the 1.5 hours it took his client to drive to his home studio it is today recognized around the world as perhaps the greates architectural achievement in the history of mankind. Fallingwater. A swath of concrete and glass jutting out of the rock and wood of a Pennsylvania hillside impossibly cantilevered right over the prettiest little creek and waterfall you've ever seen.

That's what I want. Something exactly like that. And the nudist thing adds a touch of poetry to it too.

These were my thoughts as I crossed against the light on the last leg of my taxi, jumbo jet, tube, and foot journey to meet with Rebecca Stills, the chief landscape designer of the first ever Bеаυty Pаrk, scheduled to break ground early next year in Lаs Vеgаs Nevada. Quite a global concern this Bеаυty Pаrk has turned out to be. Conceived in Canada, designed in Lоndоn Englаnd, and to be built in the United States.

I wonder if they have forests and waterfalls in Vegas?


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If they don't, we'll just have to build 'em.

I reached the front door of an old Georgian town house in Mayfair, the once ­ and still ­ elite London neighbourhood whose very name evoked images of fine ladies in gleaming carriages and gentlemen in top hats and tails. The polished brass door knocker gleamed in the mid morning sun as I lifted it and let it fall heavily. What a charming place this was, I thought to myself, glancing around at the bustle of activity, the cars driving on the wrong side of the road. I envisioned Mіss Stіlls to be a proper British aristocrat, probably wearing a pearl choker and a lot of tweed, and hoped she wouldn't have too much of a problem designing a park for the purpose of admiring nude women.

The door creaked open and I put on my best introductory smile ­ and felt my jaw drop immediately. There, in the open doorway, stood the most breathtakingly beautiful woman I had ever seen, naked from the waist up in a little pair of hip hugging white shorts.

To say she was stunning was to understate it. She had soft chestnut hair that brushed lightly against her shoulders, blue eyes that could melt any man's heart, a smile full of warmth and sweetness, and large, perfectly formed breasts that curved away from her tight flat stomach. My breath caught in my lungs as I struggled to breathe, and try as I might I could barely pull my eyes away from her body to look her in the eyes.

"Michael?" she asked, releasing me from almost certain death. "Do come in, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rеbеccа."

"Rebecca?" I squeaked, then cleared my throat to a more manly pitch. "Yоυ'rе Rеbеccа Stills?"

"Indeed." She smiled, "I've been so looking forward to meeting you and getting started on this project. It's been all I can think about it. Please, follow me, my office is right down the hall."

She turned and with a sweep of her long hair and a little sway of her maddeningly curvy hips she strolled down the lushly carpeted hall of the grand old house as if it were perfectly natural for a half naked woman to be wandering through its rooms. I stumbled along behind her, mindful not to bash into the antiques tottering on the sidetables.

"Would you like anything?" she asked over her shoulder, her long lashes blinking as she waited for my answer. "Tea, coffee? Anything?"

"Thank you, no." I said. The last thing I needed now was more stimulation.

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Stepping into her office was like stepping into another world. In stark contrast to the fussy ornamentation of the hallway, her office was sleek and modern, a windowed enclave with cool chrome furnishings and crisp, clean lines everywhere one looked. It was filled with light, and I immediately felt more comfortable.

"I'm, uhŠI'm really excited about this project myself." I ventured as she offered me a seat opposite her desk. It's a concept that I've become very interested in on many levels lately, for many reasons."

"We all are." She replied, turning the screen of her laptop towards me. A computer generated paradise full of trees, flowering fields, rock formations and waterfalls fairly popped off the display, at once being more than I expected and exactly what I'd always wanted.

"That's fantastic." I said, before I realized I'd even spoken. My eyes drifted over every inch of the screen, marveling at how well she'd captured our vision for the park. I was distracted by the sight of her bare breast hovering near the top of the screen, but quickly found a hibiscus to look at instead. "How did you come up with this so quickly?"

"I just love designing." She said. "I've always wanted to design landscapes, ever since I was a little girl. I used to draw the same landscape over and over. I'd use green for the land, and yellow for the sun and blue for the clouds. And I'd use every other color for the circles of the trees. And everyone in my drawings was happy," she added. "The beauty park will be my masterpiece. I hope."

"I'm sure it will be." I said. Then a thought occurred to me. "ButŠforgive me, I'd think you could make your living as a model instead of a landscape designer."

"I used to be a model." she answered a little sadly "Still am, I guess. Then she perked up again. "I am. I'm a model slash landscape architect. Some models are models slash actresses so why not?"

She smiled at herself, got up and gestured beyond the glass of her office to the studio beyond. "Would you like to meet the gang?"

Knowing that there would never be a time, ever, when I could say no to anything this woman asked, followed her into a modern studio of glass and light and paper. Several young and well mannered men and women ­ all of them fully dressed - busied themselves with pencils, laptops, charts, and rolls of plans. They all stopped and looked when Rebecca entered the open space.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet, Michael. He's here from Body in Mind to do a story on our little park."

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I was greeted with a series of pleasant nods and hellos.

"Please, don't let me disturb what you're doing," I replied and looked to Rebecca for confirmation. "I'm here to observe only."

The group exchanged knowing grins, and I blushed. "Observe you, that is." I said, but the truth of it was too obvious. My eyes would not leave Rebecca, no matter what I did.

I didn't talk with Rebecca again until several hours later. She had gotten to work right away, calling over several of her designers to a board table for a meeting of some sort. I tried to blend into the background as much as possible and not interfere.

I have never worked anywhere where the boss was as loved - even adored - as was Rebecca. You'd think all the guys would have spent all their time drooling and the ladies all their time grumbling behind her back. But I saw none of this. Instead, all of the men who worked in that office bristled with excitement at the mention of her name. And the ladies spoke of her with a quiet respect and looked at her often with marked longing. I couldn't tell if they were jealous of her beauty or resentful of the attention she commanded, or if they simply wished to be her. If they felt any of these things they hid it pretty well. Everyone there seemed very happy and they all worked very hard. In fact, after a couple of hours, I myself didn't seem to really notice that Rebecca was nude. She laughed with her group, gave orders, chatted on the phone and sipped her coffee with absolutely no sign she knew she was naked. Maybe it was because she had the kind of perfect beauty that reminds one of sculpture, and after all, no one seems to mind or notice the nudity of a statue.

We finally ended up together in Rebecca's office late that afternoon.

"Okay, I have to ask," I began.

"Shoot," she answered.

"Why do you work... like this?" I asked gesturing to her whole body.

She smiled at me, as though playing with a far inferior opponent. "Why not? I'm comfortable like this."

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I felt my eyebrows shoot up, and cursed myself for not thanking her then and there for being the kind of woman every man always dreamed of ­ a beauty with the bravery to share it with the world.

"I've always loved being naked," she said frankly. "Even when I was a kid. My mother used to have a hell of a time keeping me in clothes. I remember my 5th birthday for exampleŠ and then in high schoolŠbut that's a story for another day I think. But I will tell you one time, in college, I remember being naked on a cliff, looking out over the water with the wind in the grass hissing behind me and big puffy white clouds vaulting mightily overhead and I just felt so right, completely naked and alone in the world. I've never felt so fulfilled, so free, so much a part of the universe, so well suited to my own skin, so happy with myself. At that moment the world, and I'm not kidding you, the world just stopped, literally. I swear to you that butterflies stopped in mid flutter, the sound of the sea turned stone silent, and suddenly I was the center of everything. In that wonderful moment I realized that I could go anywhere I wanted in the world, and in my life, just by thinking it. Well that's not exactly true. Not just by thinking it. But that's what it felt like. The reality of my dreams was so powerful, so important maybe, that the effort to get there seemed laughably effortless by comparison. I knew I could bring everything I wanted into my life just by realizing they were already there in some form, deep inside me or hiding behind the things of this world maybe, and that all I had to do was see it, and be myself long enough for it to come about in its own inevitable way.

"I swore that I would never forget that moment on the cliff or its meaning. And I never have. Even though until recently I've never had a clear idea what it is exactly I want to achieve in life, I've always known my beauty and my lack of fear of being naked meant something deep and important. I've not always known where they would take me, or how, but I've always gotten everything I've ever wanted once I've set my sights on it.

"And it's not because men just give things as they like to do for beautiful women. It's because I know I am entitled, and that my beauty means something profound, and I never give up until I have it."

She watched for my reaction, and as lost as I was in the image of this beautiful woman standing nude by the sea, I was even more impressed by the intensity of her words and her conviction.

"Thе Bеаυty Park is an important idea." She said solemnly. "It speaks to me. It finds me on that cliff and says 'This is where you've always belonged'.

I like to work half naked to inspire my gang here in the spirit of the Bеаυty Pаrk, a place where female models wander about nude making themselves available for conversation or photo shoots to the men who attend, inspiring them to deep thoughts or great art in amongst the brilliant landscaping of Miss Rеbеccа Stіlls."

She winked at me and somehow I knew the meeting was over. I rose and extended my hand to her and smiled in spite of a feeling of profound sadness that suddenly overwhelmed me. It made my heart extremely heavy to be leaving this beautiful woman's presence. For the first time since arriving I noticed that she had made my own mood immensely happier than was normal for me, and I noticed it only because I was losing it. She smiled back with her eyes as she played with her pen, engaged in thoughts that were private once again. She extended her hand and I fought the crazy urge to kiss it. I shook it briefly and left all thank you's and smiles.

I had forgotten to ask her about my Fallingwater idea. But as I hailed a cab, eager to get back to the hotel and telephone D.Bell about the progress on his Bеаυty Pаrk, I felt a surge of inspiration. I would build my dream house myself, and maybe I would hire Rebecca to landscape it. I would do what she had done. All I had to do was see it, like she had.

She was right ­ if she was any example, the Bеаυty Pаrk was going to inspire a lot of people to do great things. Perhaps even the stuff of legends.

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