Blog Posts about Koo Stark

We've got a right proper crop of British beauties getting their kits off (that's "naked" to us Yanks) this week on DVD and Blu-ray: First, a blonde by the extremely British name of Honeysuckle Weeks seduces an eager young missionary in the horror-comedy The Wicker Tree (2011). Then, English rose Jessica Brown Findlay flashes a pair of IDs in the indie drama Albatross (2011). After that, British style icon Marianne Faithfull keeps the faith by showing skin in the groovy '60s flick Girl on a Motorcycle (1968), and finally UK sexploitation star (and former fling of Prince Andrew) Koo Stark is put through her paces in the Marquis de Sade adaptation Justine (1977).

Also nude on Blu-ray, the Italians see your Justine and raise you one Killer Nun (1978), starring Anita Ekberg as the titular sister and the densely-thicketed Paola Morra as her frequently nude prey.

More after the jump!

1969 stands as the year that pop culture evolved from the mass grooviness of Woodstock and the far-out giant leap of the moon landing to the horror of the Manson Family murders and the Hells Angels stomping out flower power at Altamont.

It was also the year that Hollywood erupted with new creative freedom, emboldened by expanding societal mores and the new MPAA rating system.

Filmmakers could now dip into the palette of patently adult material, including coarse language, unflinching violence, and, most importantly, sex and nudity.

Let’s trip on back to 1969 and dig nine classic nude scenes from that headiest of daze gone by.

1. EASY RIDER
Toni Basil
(1:26)
Toni strips full-frontally nude in a New Orleans cemetery while tripping on LSD.

Easy Rider is indisputably one of the hippie era’s ultimate artistic statements. Toni Basil’s “Hey Mickey!” video is one of the most indelible media images of the 1980s. How interesting that one cultural touchstone unwittingly begat another. On acid. Naked.

By Tivoli Foxx

PART ONE: MY LIFE IN SEARCH OF RACK-LACKING ROLE MODELS

Throughout my 'tween years in the '70s, I was force-fed the song stylings of Mr. Joe Walsh in the backseat of my big brother's Camaro. Actually, it was one song in particular: "I Like Big Tits," which was cleverly labeled on the album You Bought It: You Name It as "I.L.B.T.S" to stump censors. "I.L.B.T.S", in fact, became the mantra of my bro's maligned gang of burly burnouts and randy rockers. Barely budding of boobage myself, I longed for the day when groovy, smoke-soaked studs would make cracks about my own stupendous love-stacks.

My immensely endowed older sister, alas, provided no help. As a matter of fact, she rendered me the braless butt of jokes by giving me a t-shirt saying "Proud Member of the I.B.T.C." -- the Itty Bitty Titty Committee! I wore that garment like a scarlet letter well into adolescence, remaining completely casaba-barren and cat-call-free.