Last weekend in Burbank, California, I attended my first ANME Founders, a tradeshow where sex toy manufacturers hobnob with retailers and media-makers while showing off their latest flashy toys. It was an exhausting trip – me and Bex were there drumming up interest for a forthcoming publishing project we’re working on – but the toys excited me nonetheless. Here are my faves that I saw…
California Exoticshas a new line of bullets coming out called Glam. They are shiny and pretty, but – as anyone who’s read (or written) a lot of sex toy reviews could tell you – that doesn’t always mean a product is good-quality or can make you come.
However, when I picked up this bullet and turned it on, I said, “Whoa!” It was way rumblier than I was expecting. It also comes in a gorgeous turquoisey-blue. I’ll be impatiently refreshing the CalEx website until they release this little beaut.
Likewise, Dame has also released a new bullet. It’s called the Zee, and it is bright blue, USB-rechargeable, and decently rumbly (it’s comparable to their Kip clitoral vibrator which I reviewed recently). It’s cool to see this company expanding their catalogue so colorfully, and putting effort into making sure their motors are great.
I was heartened to see that many companies are now offering vibes that are easy to grip between your fingers, like the Blush NoveltiesNoje B6. As someone with a chronic pain disorder that often manifests as soreness, stiffness, and/or weakness in my hands, I appreciate having options that don’t require me to (literally) white-knuckle my way through hand pain in order to get off.
The folks at Clone-a-Willy have created a vulva-focused version of their flagship product: you can cast a mold of your bits and attach them to a Fleshlight-esque sleeve. A lot of people ask me whether there’ll ever be something similar for the inside of the vagina, but the folks at Clone-a-Willy told me that would be invasive and scientifically difficult – I would imagine because of the way the vag flattens in on itself when not “in use.” But this product is a perfectly serviceable substitute, and frankly I think my partner, for one, would be plenty happy owning a fuckable facsimile of my bits!
In a stroke of true genius, a company called CellMate has introduced an app-controllable chastity device. It’s ideal for people who like to do solo chastity play as well as folks who prefer to do it with a partner acting as their “keyholder.”
I suspect this product is also geared toward pro dommes (including those who only interact with clients online), since a sales rep told me one person can control up to 50 devices from their app at a time! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I love the ingenuity of kinksters.
Finally: maybe this is old news – I wouldn’t know, because I barely follow Lelo anymore, now that they’ve fucked up so many times that I kinda feel gross even using their toys – but Lelo now makes a beauteous turquoise version of their large Smart Wand. I loved mine when I owned one, but the battery completely died after less than two years. If they’ve updated this toy’s inner workings so the battery lasts longer and the toy doesn’t have weird mechanical defects, that could be intriguing… if not for the fact that they still haven’t answered for their various past missteps. SIGH.
I’ve always enjoyed the thought of dating someone whose personal style mattered to them, whose grooming and aesthetic were joyful components of their life rather than just perfunctory choices. I admired couples who posed together for chic outfit photos on my favorite lifestyle blogs, and occasionally tried to match my ensemble to my beaux’. This wasn’t just vanity for me – a couple’s outward coordination feels to me like a manifestation of their inward coordination (though of course this isn’t the case for everybody). Matching felt like a love language. Dressing up to delight a partner felt like an act of sweet service.
I’m fortunate that my partner now agrees with me on these points, and we love to go on fancy dates together dressed in outfits that subtly reference each other’s (and also sometimes get us free drinks). Here are some of my faves we’ve worn lately…
December 13, 2019
For our two-year anniversary, we packed up our stuff for a brief staycation at Toronto’s beautiful Broadview Hotel. I’d watched its construction with eager fascination years ago (it was built from a broken-down and legendary old strip club called Jilly’s) but had never stayed there, so I was excited to check it out.
After getting very pretty, we went to the hotel’s rooftop bar for a drink, and then to Michael’s on Simcoe for a magnificent steak dinner. I made our waiter cry by thanking him for correctly gendering my partner. It was a good night.
mb is wearing:
Grey suit – Suitsupply
White collared shirt
Blue/pink/silver tie – vintage Emilio Pucci and was one of my birthday gifts for them the previous year (I love Pucci!!)
Tom Ford lipstick in “Cherry Lush” (we unknowingly bought each other the same lipstick for our anniversary like a couple of nerds)
December 30, 2019
For mb’s 29th birthday, we went out with a bunch of their pals for a huge prix-fixe meal at a fancy Japanese restaurant, followed by cocktails at Kind Regards. I felt so surrounded by love and joviality all night!
mb is wearing:
Pink blazer – thrifted earlier that day at a Goodwill in Manhattan; we were shopping for fancy vintage clothes to wear to a different party (see below) and I saw this, gasped, and MADE them try it on – doesn’t it look amazing?!
White collared shirt
Blue/purple/pink tie – also vintage and also a gift from me last year; this one’s by Express Design Studio
Black jeans, I think?
Black and gold “Please use they/them pronouns” pin
I am wearing:
Black sparkly velvet halter dress – Forever 21 a few years ago
Black cashmere cardigan – the Gap
Black leggings – H&M
Black harness boots – Frye (an anniversary gift from mb)
In late 2018 I met the great Tara Isabella Burton after I read her first book and she interviewed me about kink for her second. This year, she invited mb and I to her “unwedding“: a black-tie party meant to celebrate her not getting married. The dress code said “as extra as possible” and we took that to heart.
The party was wild. I swilled prosecco and cocktails, exchanged cringey ex stories with a brocade-clad bartender, debated modern movies with a film critic, watched a YouTube-famous chef swing-dance to a live jazz band, met (and kissed) a beautiful litigator, met (and kissed) a flirtatious professor, wobbled around in my heels, and just generally had a raucous good time. Congrats to Tara on “not getting married today“!
Red lace dress – vintage via my mom; she bought it in the early ’80s to cover a Phantom of the Opera premiere for Global TV, and it miraculously fits me perfectly
Hanging out with Jaymz Bee at a jazz loft party in 2015.
Content note: This post will touch on social anxiety, alcohol, and drugs.
Parties are simultaneously the bane of my existence and some of my most looked-forward-to events. I’m sure some of the introverts reading this can relate! I love the getting-ready part and the chatting-tipsily-with-cool-people part; it’s the part in between that usually makes me nervous – sometimes to the point of not wanting to attend at all! If this sounds familiar, don’t worry: I’ve got some tips to help you get through the next party you attend. Here we go…
Wear at least one “conversation piece.”
Getting ready for a party feels to me like casting a magic spell. It sets the tone for the whole event and lays the groundwork for how I will feel, and how I will be perceived. One thing I always try to do when assembling a party ensemble is to include clothing items and accessories that are eye-catching, a little odd, and easy for someone to comment on or ask about. As you probably know, one of the trickiest things about approaching new people at a party is not knowing what to say – so by wearing something worth remarking upon, you’re doing the other party-goers a favor by giving them a free conversation starter to use with you! Some of my fave eye-poppin’ pieces are flashy heart-shaped jewelry, oversized hair accessories, enamel pins, bright-colored lipstick, and really great shoes.
Tell yourself you only have to stay for an hour.
I do this for almost every party I ever go to, and in almost every case, I end up staying longer than that one hour. It’s just a way of tricking my brain into letting me attend the party, because I know I can get through an hour, even if the whole hour sucks (which it never does). This is also a way I take care of myself: if I genuinely want to leave after an hour, it’s almost certainly because either the party is bad or there is something going on with my physical or mental health that’s making it difficult for me to enjoy myself – and in either case, I’d be happier at home on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watching Netflix. If you’re attending a party with other people, you might want to tell them about your time-limit plan, too – this is a way of setting expectations so you don’t disappoint your party-animal friends when you’re walking out the door while their night’s just getting started. (Remember: even if you live together, you don’t have to leave the party at the same time!)
Keep your eyes up and your body language open.
I went to a raucous party full of mostly strangers with my partner last week (more on that soon) and noticed that way more people came up and talked to us than would ever approach me if I’d been there by myself. Setting aside the fact that my partner is very handsome and magnetic (which they are), I think this phenomenon mostly occurred because my energy was totally different than it would’ve been if I was alone. I wasn’t hunched over my phone in a corner, or affecting faux-blasé body language to seem cool and aloof – I was looking around the room, bright-eyed and phoneless, curious about who we could talk to next. Of course people wanted to meet us! Consider adapting the way you hold yourself, behave, and look at folks the next time you attend a party – it could totally transform your experience.
Come up with a go-to line to start a conversation.
Asking someone how they know the host is usually a safe bet. Complimenting some aspect of their outfit, as we’ve discussed, is another. If a holiday is coming up or has just passed, you can ask someone how they spent it or plan to spend it. Dating coach Camille Virginia recommends commenting on something in your environment – like, “Wow, this playlist is incredible,” or “[The host] always throws such great parties.” If you’re feeling a little braver, you could also just ask people one of these 100 questions Alex Franzen recommends – they might think you’re a bit of a weirdo at first, but then they’ll probably be excited to answer such an interesting question!
Watch your alcohol/drugs intake.
Look, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life; I’m not your dad. I just know that when I feel anxious at a party, I often lean too hard on substances, both to alleviate my mental discomfort and to give me something to do with my hands so I feel less awkward. If I get too drunk or too high, I almost invariably end up doing something I regret – often something embarrassing enough to give me even more anxiety the next day when I remember what happened! Naturally, this topic is extra fraught for people who struggle with addiction, or have done so in the past: parties can be a very triggering or challenging environment. When I’m trying to lay off the substances at a party, I’ll usually pour a non-alcoholic beverage (or even just water) into my glass and sip on that, or nibble on a snack – both help me feel less out-of-place and awkward, without getting me wasted.
Find one person and make them feel fascinating.
One of the reasons parties stress me out is that I feel a pressure to talk to tons of people – but the truth is, I often have my best party-going experiences when I only have one or two intense, intimate conversations, as opposed to several more casual or perfunctory ones. This jives with what some social psychology thinkers say about how introverts hate small talk and much prefer more soul-baring interactions. If you can find even just one person at the party who has an interesting job, or majored in something cool, or has an amazing outfit on, or is obsessed with the same TV show as you, you can ask a zillion follow-up questions (so long as they seem up for that) and go deep with this one person instead of swimming around in the shallow end with a bunch of people you barely know.
Take breaks when you need to.
Remember what I said earlier about how you should keep your phone tucked away and your eyes up? Yeahhh, there’s only so long I can do that for. Most of my introverted friends have some sort of system for taking periodic breaks at parties, whether they like to head outside for a smoke, step out on the balcony for a quiet moment alone, or hole up in the bathroom to check their email (just be mindful that other guests might need to pee!). At particularly crowded parties, sometimes you can take a time-out just by sitting in the corner by yourself and texting a friend or reading an article on your phone. (I used to have a friend who would legit bring a book to every party and unabashedly pull it out to read when she needed a moment of simulated solitude… Kudos.) You might find your brain feels more juiced up and socially energetic after even a brief breather, so you can get back in there and keep the party going.
Help with party logistics if you can.
Ask the host if you can help make drinks, collect used dishes, take people’s coats, run the evening’s game of Charades, or whatever other practical things need doing. This’ll help you feel less awkwardly aimless, while also giving you a low-pressure opportunity to meet and talk to a lot of the other attendees. Plus you’ll be helping out the host, who is probably rushed off their feet!
See someone standing alone? Go talk to them.
They’re probably one of your own kind! And they’ll almost certainly be grateful you bothered. A simple “Hey! How’s your night going?” can turn someone’s whole evening around. Similarly, if you’re standing in a group and you see one or two people nearby looking left out, invite them into your circle. Parties are supposed to be all about mingling, after all!
Exit conversations gracefully.
I’m not always the best at this. Sometimes you want to leave an interaction, either because you’re getting socially overwhelmed or you just… don’t really like the person you’re talking to. It’s possible to do this without seeming rude, but most people aren’t very good at it! Try one of these lines: “Well, it was nice talking to you. I’m gonna mill around.” “It was so good to meet you – have a good time tonight!” You could also just make up an excuse (“I have to go to the bathroom,” “I have to go help my friend with something,” “I have to make a phone call”) but the truth is better, and often kinder.
Recharge as needed when you get home.
You probably know what kinds of activities help you reset your brain after expending a lot of social energy. I like to get in a hot bath with a book, watch some silly YouTube videos, or just stare mindlessly at my phone for a while. Whatever works best for you, do it – not only because you need it, but also because you’ll start to associate parties with that horrible drained feeling if you let yourself linger in that mood for too long after a party. Doing proper post-event self-care helps keep your relationship to parties a positive one!
What are your best tips for going to parties as a shy, anxious, and/or introverted person?
“High heels are pleasure with pain.” -Christian Louboutin
Help. I’ve fallen in love with a pair of shoes.
I first became aware of the shoe designer Christian Louboutin in 2007, when my fashion-blogging heroine Gala Darling wrote, of some peeptoe Loubs she’d recently tried on, “Every girl needs a pair of shoes that make them feel like they’re having palpitations… [These] are the ideal shoe for drinking cocktails outdoors in the warm night air, surrounded by stars (in the sky & around you, darling) & cameras. Oh, yes.” Gala writes about clothes and accessories so evocatively, describing not only what to wear but also how to wear it, in what situations, in what spirit. I filed away this particular sentiment somewhere deep in my brain, assuming I would never own a pair of Louboutins – which can cost anywhere from $500 up to $4,000 a pair – but wanting, nonetheless, to feel that starstruck-summer-night feeling someday, in some shoes.
Weird, then, that 12 years later, I happened to see a pair of Louboutins on TheRealReal that were almost identical to the ones Gala had raved about, marked down 75%, and that I now own them.
See, my partner likes feet and shoes. In my mind, this sometimes gets lost in the shuffle amongst their numerous other kinks – I mean, who’s gonna fixate on the world’s most common fetish when there’s weirder stuff like hypnosis and crying to play with? – but it does come in handy sometimes. They did, for example, encourage me last summer to buy my now-beloved pair of red peeptoe clogs, and they’re always happy to offer opinions on socks, stockings, and shoes I’m considering snapping up. So I guess it makes sense that when I went on a Louboutin-ogling spree online recently and spotted these Lady Gres royal blue crepe satin pumps with a 4.75″ heel, my partner’s eyes practically bulged out of their head. (I can’t totally confirm that, because we were texting and not face-to-face at the time, but the highly enthusiastic texts spoke for themselves.)
“I could get them for like $230 with the current discount code on the site,” I wrote, “but I’m not sure I’m that committed to buying heels I would wear like 1-2 times a year.”
“Buuuut, like, maybe I am,” my beloved wrote back. “I gotta sleep on it.”
Three minutes later, they added, “Okay, I slept on it. This can be an early finished-your-book present.” I screamed.
I am much less critical of high heels these days than I would have been just a few years ago. While I’ve pretty much always been a “fuck it, do what you want” type of feminist when it comes to other marginalized people’s aesthetic choices, my own stance on heels for myself was predominantly that they weren’t worth the trouble. I’d wobbled through a femme awakening in high school, in cheap faux-leather pumps and agonizing ankle boots; I’d begrudgingly worn padded Naturalizer heels to a wedding, and occasionally clomped around in the aforementioned heeled clogs. Discovering the increased stability of ankle straps was a minor revelation, but for the most part, I eschewed heels for my signature Frye boots, often even when a dress code called for something less… equestrian.
But then I realized I was kinky, and a few years later, I read Summer Brennan’s excellent book High Heel. These two discoveries, taken together, formed the basis for my new understanding of heels: that wearing them could be sexy, pleasurable, and even feminist, despite – and sometimes because of – the pain and discomfort they cause.
See, for very good reasons, women’s pain is often interpreted as unfeminist. After all, we’ve endured pain of various sorts, underdiagnosed and underacknowledged, for millennia. We’ve broken our backs cooking and cleaning for ungrateful men. The patriarchy has crammed us into corsets and Spanx and, yes, heels. The pain systematically inflicted on women’s bodies is a political issue.
But I believe that when you can’t yet dismantle the game completely, one wise approach is to try to play it. Or maybe to cheat.
Enjoying wearing heels for masochistic reasons feels to me like cheating at the game of patriarchy, in the best way. It’s saying, “Okay, fine, I’ll do what you’re telling me to do – but only for my own perverted reasons, not for yours.” My ultra-feminist partner gets this totally – they would never force, coerce, or cajole me into painful shoes just to sate their fetishistic desires. They see my own inclinations toward fashionable masochism and just push me a little further in that direction. A dominant going “hubba hubba” has been the cause of many submissives’ silliest and most joyful decisions.
My Sir had the blue Louboutins (or “Blueboutins,” as I have admittedly been calling them sometimes) shipped to their apartment in New York, so they would be here by the time I arrived. My sweetheart presented them to me in a bright red gift bag that matched the shoes’ iconic soles, and then slipped them out of their slightly beat-up box and onto my feet. We both gasped and sighed and moaned like we were watching a particularly cinematic cum shot in a porn scene. The shoes were that good, that erotic.
The next day, my partner kneeling to gently kiss my satin-encased feet gradually transitioned into a full-on human furniture and trampling scene. I read aloud from an Augusten Burroughs book while digging my sharp heels into the exposed skin of my partner’s back. The shoes already fit my feet perfectly but I wanted to make them fit my life, my sexuality, and my personality too – and that meant making them into pervertibles of sorts. If you’re a kinkster and you spend $200+ on a fashion item you can’t also use as a sex toy, are you really getting your money’s worth?
The real challenge came the following day, however, when I wore the Loubs on a test run to the Starbucks around the corner from my Sir’s apartment. My Apple Watch says I walked less than half a mile round-trip fetching us breakfast and coffee, but by the time I arrived back home, I was panting and aching like I’d just crossed a precarious tightrope. It felt like I had. The shoes engaged muscles I didn’t know existed, and necessitated a glacially slow walk that made impatient New Yorkers veer around me with derisive huffs. I’d held onto mb’s arm the entire time to keep myself upright, and the intimacy and kinkiness of that made this simple walk feel like a kink scene. Like a damsel in bondage, I was reliant on my partner – and my own sheer skill and resilience – to get me through the experience. It was submission and masochism and deference – not only to my dominant but to the shoes themselves – and it was delicious.
I’m not saying high heels are empowering for everyone. They’re not even wholly empowering for me. Obviously they wouldn’t be right for a situation where I had to dance, or run, or even walk quickly. I wouldn’t wear them to an event that called for me to be a staunch, savvy badass, just as I wouldn’t give a valedictorian address in fetishwear – it wouldn’t put me in the right headspace and it just wouldn’t be appropriate. But they’re perfect when it comes to the purposes I wanted them for: turning my dominant’s face into a heart-eyes emoji and elevating me into the strong submissive I want to be.
Have you heard? Sex workers’ rights are being eroded more and more every day, and they were pretty scant already in most places. The shitty laws known as SESTA/FOSTA – ostensibly designed to prevent sex trafficking – have only succeeded in fucking with sex workers’ lives and livelihoods (in addition to jeopardizing the free internet for everyone else). This cannot stand.
Here are 5 things you can do right now to help sex workers. They need help more than ever.
Donate to organizations that fight for sex workers’ rights.
Red Light Legal, SWOP Behind Bars, and the St. James Infirmary are three of the most popular ones I’ve been hearing about. They are doing important, difficult work, and they need money (as well as, in many cases, volunteers) in order to keep doing that work. If you’ve got enough extra cash that you can afford to donate to causes you believe in, consider picking one of these.
Contact your political reps to demand action on sex workers’ rights.
Communicate clearly to your representatives that you are against SESTA/FOSTA and pro-decriminalization. (If you need some help understanding why decriminalization is preferable to “the Nordic model” and legalization/regulation of sex work, Google ought to set you straight.) If enough people kick up a fuss, they’re likelier to listen, and to actually do something about it.
Speak out against whorephobia.
When you hear someone talking shit about sex workers – even if they think they’re being hilarious, which they often do – push back! It might seem small, but popular perceptions take a long time to shift, and one-on-one persuasion can be a big part of that. Let your shitty bro know that it’s not okay with you when he mouths off about escorts and strippers. Share facts about sex workers’ struggles and the massive positive impact they can have and have had on the world, and maybe even on you personally.
Boost sex workers’ voices on social media.
A lot of non-sex-industry people are afraid to do this, at least on their main accounts, because on some level they’re embarrassed or ashamed to be publicly affiliated with sex work. But SWs need allyship and support now more than ever. You don’t have to retweet porn onto your vanilla coworkers’ timelines (!), but don’t be afraid to retweet and share stuff about decriminalization and SESTA/FOSTA. You never know who could see it and potentially get on-board with the mission.
Book sessions with sex workers!
The “sex trafficking” laws are making this harder than ever, by eliminating many of the boards where sex workers used to be able to advertise their services, like the Craigslist personals section and Backpage. Twitter and Switter still have lots of SWs (though Twitter is getting shittier and shittier about adult content), so take a look there. If there’s a SW you’ve been wanting to see for a while, now is a great time to do it – they’re probably struggling under these laws. And if you don’t actually want a sex worker’s services but want to support them anyway, consider just… giving them money! That’s definitely an option.
This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.
California Exotics has a new line of bullets coming out called Glam. They are shiny and pretty, but – as anyone who’s read (or written) a lot of sex toy reviews could tell you – that doesn’t always mean a product is good-quality or can make you come.
The folks at Clone-a-Willy have created a vulva-focused version of their flagship product: you can cast a mold of your bits and attach them to a Fleshlight-esque sleeve. A lot of people ask me whether there’ll ever be something similar for the inside of the vagina, but the folks at Clone-a-Willy told me that would be invasive and scientifically difficult – I would imagine because of the way the vag flattens in on itself when not “in use.” But this product is a perfectly serviceable substitute, and frankly I think my partner, for one, would be plenty happy owning a fuckable facsimile of my bits!
Finally: maybe this is old news – I wouldn’t know, because I barely follow Lelo anymore, now that they’ve fucked up so many times that I kinda feel gross even using their toys – but Lelo now makes a beauteous turquoise version of their large Smart Wand. I loved mine when I owned one, but the battery completely died after less than two years. If they’ve updated this toy’s inner workings so the battery lasts longer and the toy doesn’t have weird mechanical defects, that could be intriguing… if not for the fact that they still haven’t answered for their various past missteps. SIGH.
December 13, 2019
My Sir had the blue Louboutins (or “Blueboutins,” as I have admittedly been calling them sometimes) shipped to their apartment in New York, so they would be here by the time I arrived. My sweetheart presented them to me in a bright red gift bag that matched the shoes’ iconic soles, and then slipped them out of their slightly beat-up box and onto my feet. We both gasped and sighed and moaned like we were watching a particularly cinematic cum shot in a porn scene. The shoes were that good, that erotic.