Helena Christensen

My girl Penny-d always comes through!

would never want to disappoint the emperor! <curtsies>

scanned by mojopin from tfs

Thanks, Alisa!!

I love black and white pictures!!!

That Rykiel Ad is awesome!

thank you alisa for stunning pic

and penny-dreaddfull, love that cover :drool:

never seen this pictures before

i wish i could decide who is the best sipermodel... i am stuck between christy helena and naomi all the time...

they are just AMAZING!!!!

each photo is like a piece of art!

Thank you all! This thread is

My scan of one of my fav Revlon ads.

This is something that I like to do ... Making video tributes! This is from my video collection! The most awesome runway moments of Helena C.

Nice cover...

sorry if repost or smal...

Helena Christensen - Christy Turlington - Karen Mulder

This is something that I like to do ... Making video tributes! This is from my video collection! The most awesome runway moments of Helena C.

i wish i could decide who is the best sipermodel... i am stuck between christy helena and naomi all the time...

they are just AMAZING!!!!

each photo is like a piece of art!

From Elle Top Model, my scans

!

The cover of Elle Top Model. I used to love this mag.

Beautiful Helena is one supermodel with nice legs Here is a small selection of pictures of those legs

nice short mini and high shoes

agree^ she has beautiful legs along with everything else

Some pics of Helena...

thanks mags

Beware, if you are of that persuasion, because I may wax lyrical...

It was 1990, I believe. And those Supermodels were beginning their vice-like grip on the media and - in turn - the hearts and minds and nether-regions of many a boy.

For I was not yet a man, and wondering which of these amazons would be the one to claim me - after those barren years of 'tomboyish' soap stars and rather dull cardboard cut-out songstrels. I remember, that glorious summer, Claudia Schiffer was the 'de rigeur' choice of my amigos. I mean no disrespect to blondes, but teenage boys can be SO unimaginative...

And there - ah, like so many have professed on this thread - there she was on the beach in the "Wicked Game" video. Who was this lady? This gypsy girl of my myriad furtive dreams, who had banged tambourines and lamented forlornly and twirled in vivid colours until dawn? Here she was made flesh. Of emerald eyes and caramel thighs, and a smile that hinted of carnal delight.

Helena - betwixt the exotic sensuality of Peru, and the austere innate coolness of Denmark. Strutting in Versace. Oscillating wildly. Yes, it would be her.

And so she soon festooned my bedroom wall. That photograph of her in the metallic bikini. And then she met Michael Hutchence.

Perfection. For there we were, picking up instruments with beliefs of global domination - or rather more prosaically - meeting girls. And Hutchence was like a sexual behemoth to us, an aspiration. I was growing my hair and perfecting some sort of stage presence, we all were. And HE'D GOT HELENA!!! Perchance we could follow in such shadows...

Soon I was in a band. And soon the girls took notice. And I met my first girlfriend. An inappropriate, vacuous sort, according to my Mother (who has so often been proved correct in such matters). And bearing more than a passing resemblance to my muse.

But oh, that is a whole other story. And an unfortunate template for ladies that I've taken many unsuccessful pains to stray from.

Then, later, the goddess morphed into this bohemian wonder. A quirky, interesting free-spirit - collecting antiques and having by far the coolest abode in Copenhagen. She was the perfect girlfriend; she became the perfect wife.

There is nothing 'still' sexy about her. She simply is. "Age is something that doesn't matter, unless you are a cheese." The lady IS sexy.

I was lucky enough to meet her 3 or 4 years ago, and she shone as ever. She was breathtaking. And she smelled of violets and black pepper - Intoxicating. But woe is me, for I froze. As you may surmise, I'm not one to be lost for words, but there - in her presence - I simply stopped functioning. It was more than tongue-tied. I shook. She smiled, gracefully, and took my hand - my quivering, sweaty hand...

And then she was gone.

And of course, all the things I should have said came flooding back with limitless abandon. Oh, how witty, how adroit I nearly was! Then, yes then she would have seen that me - the one that would have rendered her smitten. The one that would have seen me ensconced in her heart and her Copenhagen home.

Perhaps next time.

They say it does no good to meet our heroes, that we are always left wanting. Certainly I've kept my composure before in the presence of fame - dubious and warranted. With Helena it was different. For it harked back to an awakening. I'd had crushes of course. Strange desires. (My first being Daphne from 'Scooby-Doo', leaving me with a unquenchable desire for redheads - again, another tawdry story!) Though this was full on hormonal pubescent desire. Maybe it was that acknowledgment of lust - maybe I was simply ashamed? I am sure I blushed. Maybe she guessed...

Anyway, forgive my purple prose. Just remember to calm yourself, lest it happen to you.

And just simply admire.