Beauty & Fashion

Top Toronto Spots For… Femmes

Kate Sloan

my friend Cadence's back with "queer femme" written on it

Gosh, I love when fellow femmes visit my city. I get to take them to all the cool places. We coo over sequinned fabrics together, weigh in one another’s dressing-room successes, and window-shop for pricey makeup we’ll never own. It’s always a rollicking good time.

Here are some of my absolute favorite femme haunts in this city o’ mine. You should check ’em out if you’re femme-inclined and are visiting T.O. for the Toronto International Porn Festival in April, or for any other reason!

me wearing a blue polka-dotted dress and sunglasses in a busy New York square
Rocking a Loveless dress in New York.

Retro clothing: Loveless Boutique. This splashy little shop on College Street is a rockabilly babe’s wet dream. They stock 1950s reproduction clothes in a blessedly wide range of sizes. I always stop by Loveless if I have a fancy event coming up that I want to look pretty for, because nothin’ makes me feel quite so foxy as a good fit-and-flare dress. The salespeople are also relentlessly nice and encouraging, in a way that feels closer to femme solidarity than ruthless salesmanship. So much love!

Vintage shopping: King of Kensington and Flash Back. Toronto’s Kensington Market is rife with terrific vintage shops, but these two are my faves. They stock plentiful vintage goods in categories that matter to me: pretty dresses, tough leather jackets, badass boots, gorgeous handbags, and a veritable rainbow of cashmere sweaters. Some of my most prized possessions from these places include a pair of red sparkly boxers, a periwinkle and lavender striped cashmere sweater, the most perfect red bag, and another cashmere that’s by Ralph Lauren and was in perfect condition when I bought it vintage for $40. Swooooon.

Alterations and repairs: JB Cleaner & Tailor. If you need a button or zipper fixed, a piece of clothing taken in or let out, or any dry-cleaning done, this is the place I would loudly recommend! As far as I know, it’s owned and run by one lady, Tuyet, and she’s awesome. Every time I come in with a piece of clothing that needs fixin’ up, she has me try it on in her little changing room, and then she stands me in front of a mirror and whirlwinds around me, pinning and pinning until I somehow look hotter and shapelier than I did when I walked in. My alterations are typically done about a week later, and are always flawless. I don’t trust anyone else with my clothes, honestly.

me modeling some black patent leather Dr. Martens boots
I have had a lifelong love affair with Doc Martens.

Kickass boots: Dr. Martens. We are lucky, us Torontonians, to have an actual brick-and-mortar Dr. Martens shop on our Queen Street West. It’s a nifty little shop: the decor is colorful and punchy, there are comfy leather benches to sit on while trying on boots, and the sales counter is (inexplicably) an upright piano. Even if you don’t have a spare $120–250 to drop on a pair of nice boots, it’s worth dropping by the store just to screech at the tiny, adorable Doc Martens for toddlers. And a hint: if you’re ever in Toronto on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) and you’re on the hunt for some new boots, come here; they always have terrific Boxing Day sales. (I got my knee-high black Docs and metallic blue ones for about $200 total on Boxing Day once…!)

Lingerie: Secrets From Your Sister. This cozy shop in the Annex is a “boutique” and has prices to match, but hey, good bras are always gonna be expensive. I once accompanied a friend to her fitting here and I was impressed with the process: she was assigned a salesperson to work with, who measured her, asked her about her aesthetic preferences for bras, and brought her a whole bunch of options. After several rounds of accepting and rejecting various bras for various reasons, my friend ended up with two high-quality bras she loved. The whole vibe was relaxed, fun, and low-pressure. I don’t really wear bras, but if I did, this is where I’d get ’em!

beautiful blonde blogger Mia Moore trying on some skull-shaped sunglasses
Mia trying on strange sunglasses for my amusement at the Black Market.

Weird finds: Black Market. Not just for femmes: I usually take Bex here when they’re in town, and they’re a mostly-masc nonbinary queerdo! The Black Market carries a strange mixture of vintage clothes, eccentric deadstock, novelty T-shirts, and quirky accessories. I have some glittery dancewear from there, and I also love to pick up handkerchiefs there for flagging purposes. If your wardrobe needs a dose of fresh eclecticism, the Black Market is the place to go.

Hair: Avalon Hair Design. I have been getting my hair done by Paul for at least a decade. He always, always makes me feel like a queen. He’s pricey, yeah, but holy moses, what a pro. Fun fact: when I was ~13, an unfortunate incident involving chlorine caused my super-curly, thick hair to get irretrievably tangled in one section at the back of my head. My mom made a literal emergency appointment with Paul and he soaked my hair in leave-in conditioner and went to work with a comb. Not too long later, my hair was not only detangled but also more gorgeous than before. Paul’s official title is “Master Stylist” and that shit is no joke!

one of my thigh tattoos: a pink bow with the word "girl" above it
My “good girl” tattoos were done at Adrenaline.

Body mods: Adrenaline. I got my thigh tattoos done here, on the advice on several friends, and I’m so glad I did! The staff are polite and professional, the waiting area is sunny and comfy, and I felt well taken care of throughout the process. They do tattoos and piercings, take walk-ins, and are right on Queen West (one of the trendiest shopping areas in the city), so if you’re in the mood for an impulsive body mod, Adrenaline’s a great choice.

Makeup and perfume: Sephora Yorkville. Do not bother with the Sephora at the Eaton Centre; it’s always a crowded nightmare. I find that the salespeople at this location are nicer and the vibe is more relaxed, so I can take my time perusing lipsticks, sampling perfumes, and so on. When you’re done here, you can trot down the street to MAC or Holt Renfrew for even more cosmetic funtimes.

Fellow femmes ‘n’ fancypeople: what are your favorite Toronto spots for gettin’ yer pretty on?

Farewell, American Apparel: A Love Letter

Kate Sloan

You can feel about a company the way you’d feel about a person. You can hold its flaws and its virtues in your mind simultaneously. You can love it and hate it, both together, more intensely every day. You can halfheartedly explain away its mistakes because you want, so badly, to believe in its goodness, its honor. You can, and I do.

American Apparel is shutting its doors after a years-long battle with bankruptcy, scandal, and cultural insensitivity. Let me be exceedingly clear: this post is a love letter, but there are many things about American Apparel I do not love and cannot condone. The sexual harassment, the sizeism, the snotty atmosphere that causes several of my queer, trans, plus-size, and disabled friends to feel uncomfortable in AA stores… None of this is excusable. I myself boycotted AA for years, for these reasons and more. There are those who would say I am problematic for having supported this company. That’s fair.

Setting aside the things about AA that are actually good – like its labor practices and occasional feminist collaborations – what really made me an American Apparel devotee is the products themselves. The products are what I will miss, when the last remaining dregs of AA in this world are extinguished. The clothes, and how they made me feel.

me trying on a blue dress in an AA dressing roomFor years now, when I have an upcoming occasion for which I need to look slutty and cute, American Apparel has been my one-stop shop. This was especially true during the last couple years, when I had a friend who worked as a sales assistant at the Yonge-Dundas location – I’d text him, “I need some new slutty clothes. Are you working today?” and then I’d come in and he’d bring me things to try. A black pleather bustier. A tight gold skirt. A low-cut dress and the best bandeau bra to wear under it. Whatever my slutty needs might be, AA would have ’em covered. (Or just-barely covered, as the case may be.)

I own three of their “figure skater dress,” because it makes me feel like a fucking glorious bombshell, and that feeling is well worth the price of the dress. I own their ponte pencil skirt in two different colors, and have worn them to job interviews, conferences, and presentations, because nothing else puts me in a foxy-businesslady headspace quite so quickly. I own four of their ribbed racerback dresses and two of their jersey racerback dresses, because nothing else is so easy to throw on, style up, and accessorize. Their basics are indispensable simply because they are indeed so basic, and so well-made.

When dressing for a porn shoot or a sex-positive party, I always consider my AA clothes first. My tiny booty shorts, my fetishistic thigh-high socks, my form-fitting fuck-me dresses. They always do me right.

When I need to transport large quantities of sex toys – to, say, a porn shoot, a hotel sex date, or an out-of-country threesome – my bright yellow American Apparel leather clutch is my favorite vessel. It can comfortably fit my Magic Wand, Eleven, a few more toys, and a plethora of safer-sex supplies. Whenever I take it anywhere, people ask me where I got it. It looks so cute tucked under my arm, and it looks even cuter when I open it and you realize it’s stuffed with sexual accoutrements.

me wearing a shiny gold bodysuitWhen I received an invite to the Smut in the 6ix gala and was told to dress “as smutty as possible” in a black/white/gold color scheme, I knew exactly where to shop. It took me less than fifteen minutes to find the perfect thing on the American Apparel website: a deep-V gold lamé bodysuit. At the gala, I rocked it with a black pencil skirt over top, which I then stripped off when I got up on stage and found I wanted to show more skin. On my chubby frame, the bodysuit looked quite different from how it did on the AA model’s slim body, but I still felt like a luminescent vixen in it. It stretched to skim my curves and made me feel like I could live in gold lamé.

But AA isn’t all party clothes and mega-cleavage. Their hoodies – part of the line of basics which made them famous – are among my go-to loungewear when I’m sad, sick, or depressed. Lined with cozy fleece, they keep me warm and comfortable even when my brainspace feels cold and harsh. I can zip up the zipper, pull up the hood, and tuck my hands into the kangaroo pockets, and it makes me feel snugly, safely bundled up. Insulated from the world by polyester and cotton.

The AA stores in my city – and probably yours too – are currently plastered with sale signs: “75% OFF!” “EVERYTHING MUST GO!” Inside, they’re practically barren. Everything is on sale, even the furniture. It’s a sad sight. But recently, I ventured into one with my friend Suz, determined to find some final souvenirs to take home with me.

One thing I bought is a dark red hoodie, unisex size small to fit my ladies’-size-large body. I’ve barely taken it off since I bought it; in fact, I’m swaddled in it now as I write this. Like all my AA acquisitions, it’s well-made, dependable, reliable. I feel effortlessly put-together in it; I feel at home. It’s a feeling I’ll miss, as American Apparel shuts its stores, takes down its website, and recedes into history. I will wear these clothes until they disintegrate. I will wear these clothes until I find ones I like better. Maybe I never will.

Slinky Costumes for Minxy Kinksters

Kate Sloan

For a femme like me, dressing up for sex can be almost as much fun as the sex itself. I love to dress day-to-day according to how I want to feel more than how I want to look, and sex attire is one area where that’s especially important. Feeling like a foxy babe will help you project that foxy-babe energy into the sex you have, making it more fun and carefree for both you and your partner.

With that in mind, I’ve partnered with Temptations Direct to show you some saucy ensembles I’d love to wear in the bedroom (or a bathroom, or a kitchen, or in a dark alleyway…) to jazz up a fantasy scenario or just to make myself feel goddamn fantastic.

naughty-nurse

Mmmedical play. I’ve never been big into the “sexy nurse” fantasy, but I do have a thing for 19th-century “hysteria” doctors (a horrifically sexist notion IRL, but a strangely appealing one to me in fantasy-land). I’d love to slip into a nurse costume with matching stockings and have a partner portray a harried doctor, well-accustomed to bringing women off with his hands or a newfangled steam-powered massager. “Oh, Doctor,” I’d pant helplessly, “I think helping you treat all of these hysteria patients has made me come down with a touch of hysteria myself!”

“Never fear,” he would reply. “We have the technology to cure you.” And then he’d lie me back on a paper-covered table and begin to slowly lubricate his speculum. “Thank you, Doctor,” I’d coo preemptively while watching him plug in his vibrator of choice…

sorority-girl

Sorority girl. Normally I like my partner to be the powerful one in a kink scene, not me – but occasionally it’s hot to hold all the cards. I can see myself roleplaying as a stereotypical Hot Girl – say, at a sorority house Halloween kegger. I could slip into a pale pink “sexy bunny” costume with matching lingerie underneath. My partner, clad in a dweeby button-up shirt, khaki slacks, and horn-rimmed glasses, would portray a nerd who’d garnered an invitation to the party by doing someone’s philosophy homework for her.

I like the idea of someone feeling so lucky to have the chance to bone me. In real life, being put on a pedestal feels gross and objectifying, but in fantasy, it can be hot to have that much power over someone. “Hey, nerd, I’m horny and bored,” I’d tipsily shout at my bespectacled partner over the top of a red plastic cup. “Want a blowjob?” And then I’d watch his eyes light up like I’d just handed him a bar of gold.

daddys-little-fucktoy

Daddy’s good little fucktoy. This fantasy is more standard fare for me: being a very good girl for a benevolent but authoritative dom. I could easily roleplay this type of scenario at least half the time I have sex and be very pleased indeed.

I love the idea of getting myself ready for Daddy before he even arrives. I’d wriggle into a tight pink dress and stockings (and nothing else), slip on some pink wrist restraints, and position myself face-down and ass-up on a bed, ready to be used. Quite an inviting tableau for a partner to arrive home to…

schoolgirl

Teacher’s pet. The “sexy schoolgirl” is a clichéd sexual archetype, but damn, it still turns my crank. I love the thought of being so distractingly attractive, my handsome domly professor not only loses his train of thought mid-lecture but considers breaking school regulations to get with me.

A classic schoolgirl costume would pair well with risqué lingerie designed to make Professor Handsome gasp when he disrobed me. And then he would bend me over his desk, shove a juicy red apple in my mouth as a ballgag, and spank me with a ruler until I’d learned not to distract him in class. My sincerest apologies, sir.

 

What are your favorite characters to play and costumes to wear during sex?

 

Heads up: this post was made possible by Temptations Direct, but as always, all writing and opinions are my own!

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 12 Femme Essentials

Kate Sloan

It’s December, and that means 12 Days of Girly Juice kicks off today! It’s my annual year-end series where I compile the best of the best from my whole year: everything from selfies to tweets to sexual encounters. Today we’re focusing on femme stuff – my favorite things that made me feel feminine, fancy and fiiine the whole year long.

img_5213

Hair

Bobby pins. There are some tragically unsung heroes of the beauty world – a really great hairbrush, a black eyeliner that is truly black, an eyeshadow blending brush that just works – and bobby pins are one of them. This year I used them for three primary purposes: to set my hair in pincurls (after creating the curls with a turquoise NuMe curling iron), to erect the front part of my hair in a triumphant pomp, and to pin bandanas into place so I could rock those rockabilly vibes all day long. I always carry bobby pins in my purse – they’re equally great if you need to pick a lock, scrub ash out of your bong’s bowl (#StonerLyfe!), or pin your bangs out of your face for an impromptu BJ. Soooo useful!

DevaCurl Ultra Defining Gel. This is the good shit. I have so much hair-admiration for my curly-headed sex blogger friends – Epiphora, Suz, and Hedonish, to name a few – but my own curls have always been hit-or-miss, because taking care of curly hair is so much work. However, this year I found a routine that works for me and creates excellent curls when that’s what I want to do. After washing and conditioning my hair, I use a cotton T-shirt to “scrunch” the excess moisture out of it, and then I flip my head over and scrunch in a few dollops of DevaCurl gel. Once that’s done, I cram my gestating curls into a Turbie Twist to help them dry even more. After at least an hour of turban’ed time, my hair’s ready to be taken out and air-dried – at which point, it becomes gloriously curly. DevaCurl’s products are brilliant, and the Ultra Defining Gel, in particular, rocks my world. I can go multiple days without needing to re-set my curls because this stuff keeps ’em in place for so long. YESSS!

Bandanas. I have always loved the rockabilly look – I gorged my eyes on SuicideGirls and old Bettie Page photos from practically the moment I discovered the internet – and I’ve attempted to replicate it to varying degrees of success over the years. In mid-2016 I briefly dated someone who loved that look, so I’d sometimes dress up as his good little Rosie the Riveting, complete with bandana, winged eyeliner, and red lipstick. I adore that aesthetic so much that it endured in my life even after that relationship ended. I especially love the delicious subversion of “queering” this classic 1950s look by choosing my bandana colors according to the hanky code.

img_5218Cosmetics

LORAC Pro palette. I am an extravagant femme, and therefore, I own an excess of eyeshadow palettes. There are many I love for their outlandishness or uniqueness – the Sugarpill Sweetheart palette, for example, or the Wet ‘n’ Wild Petal Pusher palette – but LORAC Pro is my favorite and most-used one, by a longshot. With its eight glitter shadows and eight mattes, all brilliantly pigmented and wonderfully blendable, it’s simply the most versatile bunch of neutrals I’ve ever owned. Whether I’m doing an everyday look or going all-out glamour-femme, I’m likely to reach for my LORAC Pro palette.

img_5216“Sleepy Sloan.” This is the name Tynan gave to the essential oil blend she custom-made for me, even though its effects don’t have anything to do with sleep; it’s just a cute name. I still adore this fragrance as much as I did when she first blended it for me. There’s a drop of it on the collar of my shirt or dress most days I go out, because it comforts and uplifts me.

Revlon lipstick in “Fire & Ice.” I didn’t think much of this lipstick when I first bought it. It’s a classic red that leans slightly orange, which has traditionally not been my jam; I’m more of a blue-based-reds girl. But this color has really grown on me: it’s punchy, saucy, and assertive, just like me on my best and boldest days. Slicking my lips in Fire & Ice gives me an easy confidence, a high-femme swagger. A tube costs about $8 at any drugstore, an admirable value for such a potent mood-booster.

img_5220Bourjois Rouge Edition liquid lipstick in “Pink Pong.” My other lipstick favorite in 2016 was, naturally, a bright pink. As a diehard devotee of pink lipsticks, I have lots of favorites – Bite’s “Violet,” NARS’ “Schiap,” and Revlon’s “Smitten,” to name a few – but this cool-toned, velvety pink really stole my heart this year. It’s not as long-lasting as some other liquid lipsticks I’ve tried, but it’s not as drying, either. If you’re looking for a hot pink that’ll light up your face and make your femme heart sing, this is one I’d recommend.

Clothes & Accessories

Aslan Leather collars. I have two: a pink one Bex bought me for my birthday and a black one I bought myself. I love them both. They’re comfy, good-lookin’, and they signal a bit o’ kink without being too over-the-top to wear in public. Oh, Aslan, why are you so good to us?

img_5221My hot pink Kate Spade purse. The model is the New Bond Street Florence. I bought it on a deep discount back in early 2014, but at that time, it felt almost too brashly femme for me; I was shyer then, and less willing to dress in a way that would command attention. But this year, I really “grew into” my gloriously pink handbag. It’s also conveniently big enough for my beloved MacBook Air, so I tote this bag on work-dates, weekend getaways, and airplanes. It makes me feel equal parts businesslady and fancy femme, and really, what more can you ask for?

MeUndies. I’ve enthused at you about these brilliant underthings before; I won’t repeat myself too much. Suffice it to say: it feels almost sinfully gratifying to swathe one’s genitals in lush, comfy fabric that’s covered in ghosts, donuts, dinosaurs, or little dancing dudes. All underwear should be this adorbz and well-made.

img_4819My new glasses. Before 2016, it had been a couple years since I’d gotten new glasses with my current prescription, and it was time. I’ve been trying to be braver and more authentically “me” lately, instead of always reverting to the shy, compliant little girl I’ve been forever, so I opted for some bold-as-hell frames when I bought new glasses this year. One pair is blue, one is black, and they’re both huge and distinctive. I feel like a hot nerdy bosslady when I wear them, which means I’ve been wearing glasses more often instead of just busting ’em out when I really need them. Hooray!

9279227874_ddd0ab3a62_kFrye harness boots. Mine are the 12R style in black, and I bought ’em back in January 2013. Since then, they’ve become my footwear of choice for so many different occasions: parties, dances, loungin’, adventurin’, performing at porn galas… Whatever my schedule calls for, really! This year I wore them in Malta, Rome, Minneapolis, Chicago, and Alexandria, among other places. These boots are such a signature part of my aesthetic that Caitlin said they felt like they were cosplaying as me when they wore a floral-print dress and boots. Here’s to plenty more exciting exploits in 2017 and plenty more stompin’ around in these durable, glamorous boots!

What were your favorite beauty and fashion items in 2016?

The Unladylike Project, Part 1: Severe Beauty

Kate Sloan

img_4063I have poured too many hours of my life into worrying about what men think of me. I try not to think too hard about this. Because if I really knew how many hours I’ve spent, how many tears and how much sweat I’ve shed, wanting men to think I’m pretty and fun and attractive… If I really knew how much of my energy has gone into that one singular, reductive, arguably unimportant goal… I think I’d probably have some kind of breakdown.

Look, I love men. Many of my favorite people are men, and many of my favorite days or hours or moments in my life have been spent with men. But the fact is, for all my pontificating about self-love and being happy on your own, I put an awful lot of stock into what men think of me. Our shallow, patriarchal culture is adamant that women’s value hinges on our ability to attract a man, and I’ve bought into that myth hook, line and sinker.

So in an effort to shake myself loose of those chauvinistic shackles, I’m starting a series called The Unladylike Project. In each instalment, I’ll challenge one of the dogmatic beliefs I hold about needing to seem “ladylike” and attractive to men. ‘Cause fuck dogma. I’ll live how I want to, regardless of what men think.

img_4064First up: “severe” beauty. I started thinking about this when my friend Sarah coined the term #SpookyFemme to describe her aesthetic: intense eyebrows, dark-colored clothes, and (most notably) dark lipstick. It’s a style I admire enormously, for its unapologetic boldness and – yes – severity. But on my own face and in my own life, I struggle to rock that spooky-stern look. It just feels like… too much. Too much of a statement, too attention-grabbing, too cyborg-like and not “feminine” enough. So for the most part, I stick to my safe pinks and reds.

When trying to pull apart my actual preferences from the patriarchal culture that shaped them, I find it helpful to ask myself: how would I do this differently if I was alone? Would I still attire myself like this, do my face like this? And in the case of makeup, I know that what I like and what I actually do are not always a perfect match. When I’m spending the whole day alone and experience an urge to play with makeup, most often I do some kind of wild, over-the-top look, with colorful eyeshadow and strange lipstick. It makes me feel powerful – but only in the absence of men who would drain the certainty of that power from me.

16692855009_06fa26a1e0_oLast year, a friend invited me to her spring equinox party. Having hung out with that friend’s crew of pals before, I knew it would be a group of mostly or exclusively LGBTQ women. Queer babes celebrating a witchy holiday with a bonfire, guided meditation, and intention-setting: it was a blast. But getting dressed for the event was almost as fun for me as the event itself, because I had a sense of sartorial freedom that I rarely experience anymore.

Because there were no cis men in attendance, I felt weirdly free to dress how I actually wanted to dress, instead of putting on a “cool girl” costume of sorts. I decided my aesthetic for the evening would be “lesbian witch” with an element of the extraterrestrial, and I chose my ensemble accordingly. A drapey purple cardigan topped off a plain white T-shirt and some obnoxiously bright floral-print leggings. I slipped on my chunky biker boots and hung a rose quartz point on a chain around my neck. As the finishing touch, I clipped two poufs of tulle into my hair, one green and one purple, one on each side of my head, like alien antennae.

I felt powerful in this outfit. My usually-soft femininity felt laser-sharp, aggressively focused, unapologetically intense. And I got compliments on my ensemble all night long.

I’m not a soft, delicate person inside; there’s no reason I should have to attire myself that way. A man who is intimidated by bold beauty will never be able to handle the deeper boldness lurking under my skin. Realistically, any partner who sticks around in my life will need to not only accept my assertiveness but adore it. So maybe I should start dressing more often in a way that shows off my inner dynamo.

It’s okay if some people think I look “weird” or “scary.” Those folks aren’t my key demographic, anyhow.