Beauty & Fashion

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.

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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.

How I Do My Makeup For Porn

Kate Sloan

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I’m hardly a porn star, but I’ve dabbled in sexy performing and posing for my various pornographer friends at Spit, Feisty Fox Films, and Cherrystems. I love makeup, and I love porn, so doing my makeup for porn is extra fun. Taking cues from traditional porn makeup, I filmed this video tutorial for you back in July when Bex and I were staying in an Airbnb specifically chosen for its good porn lighting.

While this tutorial was made with porn makeup in mind, this look is ideal for any time you want to look (and feel!) glamorous and sexy. I do my eyeshadow like this for sex-positive events, dance parties, sex club hangouts – any time I want to be a total babe. It’s a good all-purpose foxy look, and I hope you dig it!

Products used: Brushes by Sigma, EcoTools, RealTechniques and ELF • Anastasia Dipbrow Pomade • MAC Paint Pot in “Painterly” • LORAC Pro eyeshadow palette • Smashbox pore-minimizing primer • Clinique Stay Matte foundation • Beautyblender sponge • MAC Pro Longwear concealer • Laura Mercier translucent setting powder • NYX blushes in “Taupe” and “Electro” • NYX matte setting spray • MAC Liquidlast liquid eyeliner • Covergirl Professional waterproof mascara • Colour Pop lip pencil in “Heart On” • Bite Beauty lipgloss in “Bellini”

What to Wear to Your Break-Up

Kate Sloan
What I wore to my last major break-up, in 2014
What I wore to my last major break-up

Break-ups are hard. That’s true for anyone, and it’s true for me. I have an anxiety disorder. That means my brain’s fear-o-meter is out of whack. And that means I often worry about things that no neurotypical person would ever worry about as deeply as anxious folks do. For example: what to wear to break up with someone.

There is such a delicate balance to be struck in this sartorial decision. You want to wear something that makes you feel strong and brave, shoring up your resolve so you don’t chicken out. You want to look good, but not so attractive that your babeliness is a slap in the face to the person you’re dumping. You want to be prepared incase your soon-to-be-ex bursts into tears (or you do) and needs to wipe their snotty face on something. You want to dress appropriately for the temperature and tone of your break-up’s setting, whether that’s your beau’s apartment, a classy bistro patio, or a bustling street corner. You want your choice of footwear to enable a quick getaway, whether that’s needed because of emotional awkwardness or (god forbid) actual threats or violence from your scorned would-be ex. And you don’t want to wear anything that could be interpreted as a sign of lingering feelings for your dumpee, like a T-shirt you inherited from them or a necklace they bought you.

The last time I broke up with a serious partner, it was the sticky height of summer in 2014. I tucked a white tank top into a pink skirt, and put my hair in a ponytail with a pink scrunchie. Hot pink is one of my “power colors,” a shade that makes me feel strong and put-together, which I knew I’d need – because emotionally, I was a mess.

I slipped on some plain black leather flats and departed toward where I’d agreed to meet my boyfriend. About ten minutes into my walk to the subway station, I realized that in my frazzled trance, I’d forgotten my wallet at home. It was too late for me to run back and get it if I was going to meet my partner on time, so instead I just power-walked all the way to my destination. I arrived dripping sweat and out of breath.

When I actually delivered my little break-up speech, I broke down crying. I’d been with this man for three and a half years, and he was my best friend; saying goodbye to him was no easy task, though I knew it was necessary. He asked me if it would be weird if he hugged me, and I said no. He squeezed me tight, one last time, until my breathing slowed. And then we said our teary-but-amicable goodbyes and went our separate ways.

I wished I’d brought a scarf, so I could’ve wiped my wet face on that instead of on my beau’s shirt. I wished I’d brought sunglasses, so I could’ve hid my eyes as I wept all the way home. I wished I’d remembered my damn wallet. But hey, at least my clothes looked cute.

Here are some outfits and the fictional babes who wore them to their break-ups… (Idea reverently pilfered from Gala Darling, who’s written similar posts about first dates, New Year’s Eve, and dream girls!)

Nora wasn’t going to take any of his shit anymore. She showed up at James’ house with a box of his stuff slung under her arm, and kicked his door a few times with her steel-reinforced boot toe instead of knocking. She’d probably scuffed the paint. Fuck him, he deserved it.

When he opened the door wearing his plaid flannel PJ pants and nothing else, she rolled her eyes and thrust the box into his torso, knocking the wind out of his dumb face. “We’re done,” she barked, and turned on her heel.

“Why?” James sputtered. A Ninja Turtles action figure had fallen out of the box and he bent down to pick it up. “What did I do?”

“You know perfectly well what you did,” Nora snapped without turning around.

When she got back to her car, she caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror, all smudged eyeliner and mussed-up hair. She looked pissed, but she looked foxy. She dug her favorite lipstick out of her bag and reapplied it, slowly, carefully, with the precision of a woman who wants to look hot for the next chapter of her life. Once her lips were perfect, she revved up the car and embarked on a new adventure, joyfully Jamesless and unencumbered.

“I’ve always hated you in those glasses,” Jackson said when Audrey sat down at the desk next to his. “Don’t you have contacts or something?”

Audrey could feel their classmates watching her. Granted, lecture hadn’t started yet, so there was nothing else to watch, but the mini-drama of Jackson and Audrey’s Tumultuous Romance had been a key source of entertainment these past six weeks in Existentialism 101.

“I like them,” she said simply, beginning to unpack her notebooks and pens.

Jackson made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snort, and that was the final straw.

“I don’t think I want to see you anymore,” Audrey muttered. And then, a little louder: “We’re just not a good match in so many ways. We disagree on the feminist significance of Simone de Beauvoir, for example.” She cleared her throat. “And I’m tired of writing your essays for you. You should do your own work; the rest of us do.” By this time, the other students were full-on staring. The professor had arrived, and seemed interested in this choice piece of information too. “Oh, and you’re an asshole,” she added with finality.

Gaping at her and leaning way back in his chair, Jackson lost his balance for a moment and spilled onto the floor with a clatter. Audrey wordlessly gathered up her notebooks and pens and moved to a desk at the front of the room. The lecture today was going to be about Dostoevsky and she wanted to absorb every word.

“I just don’t think I’m ready for this,” Jenny said with a sniffle. They shouldn’t have met in a park; the hillside was covered in grass and Jenny was allergic to grass. That was the only reasonable explanation for her watery eyes and nose. Right?

“It’s okay, princess,” Evelyn murmured, clutching her little one against her chest. “We probably rushed into this. I should have taken things more slowly. I’m sorry.”

Jenny shook her head and pressed her face against the older woman’s clavicle. She felt safe there, but it was a conflicted sort of safe. “No, it’s not your fault,” she stammered. “I’m just… not as ready as I thought I was. I’m still not over Mel. I should have been more real with you about that.”

Evelyn kissed the top of her princess’s head and held her tighter. “I understand,” she said. “I’ve been there before.”

They sat in silence for several long moments, Jenny’s wet breaths the only sound in the air. Then she said: “Can I keep my collar?” Her hand traveled to it reflexively, fingers hooking on the heart-shaped steel clasp.

Evelyn laughed softly. “Of course, baby. It’s yours. You can keep it even if you don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Jenny exhaled deeply against Evelyn’s neck, her breathing starting to return to normal. “I might need it again someday,” she whispered. “You know, when I get over Mel and I’m ready to give this another shot.”

Evelyn smiled. The sun had started to set.

Alex had never hyperventilated in an airport before. Lots of other places, sure, but never an airport.

Sleepy passengers piled out of the arrivals door, fresh off a flight from Lisbon. Fuck, this is gonna be bad, Alex thought, but then, she always thought that. That was just how her brain worked.

She spotted Matt, weary-eyed with suitcase in hand, and a bolt of panic shot through her belly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She had to do it. She had to. It was scary but she had to do it.

“Matt!” she called weakly, in a voice that was barely hers. He met her eyes, nodded, waved, and meandered through a crowd of chatty Portuguese tourists toward his girlfriend. She didn’t hug him immediately when he got close enough, and then it felt too weird to do it after that. Alex stuffed her hands in her pockets and mumbled, “Um, did you have a good trip?”

Matt started to answer her, but her jittery mouth cut him off. “Listen,” she rasped. “I gotta own up to something. When you were out of the country, I slept with someone else. And I’m really sorry. And that was really shitty of me. And you deserve better than that. It’s just, you were away for so long, and I got lonely, and I also started to think that maybe we’re just not – ”

“Just not meant to stay together,” mb finished. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” She looked up at him with those wide, blue eyes of hers. “And I slept with someone else, too,” he admitted sheepishly.

There was a silence before Alex let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Well! We really fucked this up, huh?” she declared with a grin. And then, taking his suitcase from him: “My car’s outside; let’s get you home and we can figure this out on the road.”

They were halfway to the parking lot when mb threw his arm around her and ruffled her hair. “Missed you, pal,” he said, and it felt like a preview of what they could be to each other, someday, once the dust had settled.

Polkadots, Hearts, and Ghosts – Oh My!

Kate Sloan

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All of my underwear falls into one of two categories: there’s good underwear, and there’s garbage underwear.

“Garbage underwear” is the name I give to the old, worn-out type of panties I only ever throw on if I know I’m not having sex that day. Most of it was bought in cheap multipacks, many months or even years ago. The elastic sags, the colors are faded, the brand name holds no glamorous cachet. It’s comfortable, and it fulfills its function, but ultimately it’s a sad piece of cotton that adds no brightness to my life.

img_4128“Good underwear,” by contrast, is what I’ll put on if I suspect I might be getting laid, taking my clothes off in front of people, or showing off my butt to a crowd. (Blessedly, I have the kind of life where these situations are commonplace.) It may be slinky, saucy, and/or lacy. It shows off my assets and creates a flattering silhouette. Ideally, it highlights some playfulness in my personality, too.

The trouble with “good underwear,” though, is that it often isn’t very comfortable. Lace chafes, silky fabric shifts and slides, and the visual effect isn’t always worth the tactile troubles this type of underwear causes. But then, occasionally, it is possible to find the ease and comfort of “garbage underwear” married to the cuteness and beauty of “good underwear.” Like, for example, MeUndies.

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You’ve probably heard of MeUndies if you listen to certain podcasts that rep them; their influencer outreach is very good. But what astonished me is that their products are actually as fantastic as all those podcast hosts say they are. They promise comfort and cuteness, and they deliver on that promise.

I wore my red and white polka-dotted MeUndies to my first anal sex experience. Anyone who knows me intimately could tell you that when I’m nervous about an event, I obsess about what to wear to that event – and when sexy things are going to happen, underwear is a hugely important part of that. It has to be exactly right, evoking the feelings I hope to feel where I’m going.

I chose these because they’re flattering and sensuous, but also fun and playful. I wanted to feel relaxed, as far away from “nervous” as possible, since I was nervous as hell. Who wants to worry about annoying straps, snaps, or lace when you’re already worried about whether someone’s dick will even fit in your ass?!

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MeUndies are made of a blissfully soft modal-elastane blend. I am a stickler for underwear material: years ago, I threw away all my nylon- and spandex-heavy underthings because I felt they were contributing to recurrent BV. I replaced them with pairs made primarily of cotton, which breathes better and is therefore better for vaginal health. My militantly picky vagina has had no issues whatsoever with MeUndies, and in fact, if I could replace my entire underwear wardrobe with them, I would. They’re that comfy and cute.

img_4145The company launches a fancy new design each month, and October’s is covered in spooky ghosts. I am in love! A friend said to me, “Your genitals are haunted!” These ghosts are so damn adorable. I am proud to adorn my butt in them.

This post wasn’t sponsored – I actually just fucking love MeUndies and wanted to show you how foxy I look in mine, frankly! – but if you wanna pick some up and you buy through this link, you’ll get 20% off and I’ll get a little kickback to spend on more underwear. So we’ll both have happier genitals and butts. It’s a win-win!