spon

4 Dream Outfits for Post-Pandemic Travel

Kate Sloan

It would be an understatement to say that I miss traveling, and I know I’m not alone in that. In an era when the farthest that most of us can safely venture is the local grocery store, it’s only natural to daydream about dreamy destinations you hope to jetset to, one day when it’s possible to do so.

In that spirit, here are 4 outfits I’d dearly love to wear if I was able to visit these wonderful cities…

 

London, England

In doing a little research for this article (i.e. furiously googling “how do Londoners dress??”), I looked at plenty of photos of well-known London party girls like Alexa Chung and Kate Moss – and while world-class supermodels obviously aren’t a perfect encapsulation of their home country’s overall fashion sensibility, they did give me a clue. When I think of stylish English women, I mostly think of timelessly cool pieces, the kinds of classics that could just as easily have been rocked by Vivien Leigh in the ’50s as by Sienna Miller in the oughts.

…But of course, I had to put my own spin on this look, because working in the world of sex, I’m much likelier to hang out with quirky sex journalists and elite escorts in London than supermodels or businessladies! That’s why I went with a pink-hued Michael Kors trench coat instead of a classic tan one. This pale blue Valentino ruffled blouse adds a touch of British classiness to my usual wacky style, and I love the idea of tucking it into this pretty pink satin-jacquard skirt, which was designed by Alexa Chung and reminds me of English roses.

Navy tights would keep my legs toasty as I wandered around, and the ubiquitous combo of matching Hunter wellies and umbrella would keep me dry (I hear it’s a rainy town!). My bag of choice for a London trip would be a navy Coach Rogue, because it’s structured, smart, and roomy enough to allow for just about any eventuality.

 

Paris, France

There are so many clichéd ideas of “how French girls dress,” as if the whole female population of France is a monolith. A lot of the tropes of supposedly French style are about “effortlessness,” a concept I’ve never much liked when it comes to getting dressed. My outfits are effortful and I don’t mind people knowing that!

A striped boatneck shirt is about as quintessentially French as you can get. I don’t want to rock mine with perfectly-fitted vintage stovepipe jeans like so many French “it girls” seem to; I’d rather tuck it into a long skirt, comfy enough for strolling through the Louvre all day but fashion-forward enough that I wouldn’t feel out of place shopping on the Champs-Élysées.

This leather motorcycle jacket is by Valentino but I’d just as soon sling one on that I bought at a vintage shop and re-conditioned myself. Cat-eye sunglasses are the ultimate in cool, and these black leather Strategia ankle boots add a little toughness to this otherwise feminine-leaning look. A red quilted Yves Saint Laurent bag would be a dreamy addition, appropriate for the setting. Of course, I’d finish off the ensemble with a classic red lip, and a red beret to match. (The internet assures me it’s only tourists who wear berets, not actual French people… but hey, there’s nothing wrong with being a tourist!)

 

St. John’s, Newfoundland

I’ve wanted to go to Newfoundland forever and would love to take a road trip there with my love after all this is over! The most striking thing about photos of its capitol, St. John’s, is how vividly colorful all the houses and buildings are against the bright blue sky. So of course, I’d have to rise to the occasion, outfit-wise!

This sunny yellow polka-dotted Dorothy Perkins dress is ideal for strolling up and down St. John’s hilly streets, and a prim blue cardigan would mitigate the windchill while also making me look like a Canadian Zooey Deschanel. Cute red leather flats and a blue crossbody bag round out the primary-colors motif, while this silly yellow wide-brim hat would make me instantly spottable in a crowd, even from across the bay.

 

 

Florence, Italy

When I spent some time in Rome a few years ago, I wished I’d brought more fancy clothes with me. It just wasn’t the same as vacations I’ve taken to more casual towns like New York or Portland; I felt underdressed in my simple cardigans and sparkly crop tops.

This red dress by Kate Spade is the sort of thing I’d love to wear to an upscale Italian restaurant for some classic Florentine cuisine, with a structured black leather jacket tossed over it. While I’m not normally much of a heels girl, these black leather Jimmy Choo stilettos would help me walk the streets with confidence (provided I could deal with all those cobblestones). An alligator bag and jaunty porkpie chapeau would top it all off, along with the must-have red lip. That’s amore…

 

What vacations are you looking forward to taking, if/when it’s possible again for you?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Selling Nudes Scares Me, But I Do It Anyway

Kate Sloan

The first time I ever sold a nude photo wasn’t like a first kiss or a first fuck; it didn’t stick in my memory that concretely, a fully-fledged moment recalled with multidimensional sensory details. It was much plainer than that. Probably some random person sent me a DM, I pulled a list of rates out of my ass, they picked what they wanted and sent a payment, and I scrambled to snap some nervous nudes in my attic bedroom. Not exactly an auspicious start, but hey, it’s something.

Looking through amateur porn galleries always wows me. These people are so brave. I know sometimes “You’re so brave!” is slung condescendingly at people who have chosen unconventional paths, even when they’ve chosen those paths out of necessity rather than courageousness – but I really do think anyone who makes porn of themselves and puts it on the internet is braver than most of their fans will ever even realize.

I know this because my own nudes are available for purchase and it is simultaneously one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done and one of the scariest. Most laypeople’s main worry, when I mention that there is porn of me on the internet, is how it might affect my future employment opportunities, but I feel pretty firmly that that ship has sailed: I’m not going to go into childcare or politics, and I’m not trying to write for conservative publications, so on that level it doesn’t really matter that you can find pics of my genitals online.

No, the thing that still scares me most about being publicly naked is the sheer vulnerability of nudity itself. The likelihood of people saying (or thinking) mean things about my body. The way that internet commentators sometimes speak with such unearned authority that their criticisms creep coldly into my brain and stay lodged there, overriding any calming compliments from loved ones.

But as prevalent and understandable as these fears are, I also know that I have overcome them before, and I can do it again.

When I went quasi-viral a few years ago for writing an article about how some abusive men twist feminist rhetoric to get women to trust them, I was hounded by misogynistic trolls for weeks. They sent me death threats, told me to kill myself, left cruel comments for me across multiple platforms. I was scared for my physical safety. But one of the things that snapped me out of my fight-or-flight daze was seeing these men mock photos of me in a strap-on. They spoke as if this was an inherently disgusting sight, like they didn’t even need to explain why it was grotesque to see a chubby woman looking happy and confident while strapped into pink leather and wielding a glittery dildo. And I laughed and laughed, because… I looked hot in those photos. People whose opinions I actually cared about had told me so, and I thought so myself.

If this was really the best they could do – telling me I looked stupid and gross in a photo where I looked verifiably happy and hot – then they had no real power over me. They had tried to humiliate me and had failed. The spell was broken.

I was reminded of the famous Eleanor Roosevelt quote, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I have a lot of problems with this quote, most notably that it contributes to victim-blaming rhetoric when survivors get understandably upset about being objectified or harassed or assaulted. But, I do still think that your attitude about your own victimization can contribute to (but isn’t at all solely responsible for) how you end up feeling about that victimization. And since these trolls were sad weirdos whose rage toward me was probably borne from resentments they held toward women they actually knew in their actual lives, rather than being due to anything I’d really done or said, it felt relatively easy to shrug off their bad-faith attacks once I’d seen that they really had no ammo.

I was proud of the things they wanted to shame me for. I loved the things about myself that they claimed were worth hating. My life was full of love and sex, despite their projected insistence that someone like me could neither deserve nor acquire either of those things. Their arguments had no teeth, no real impact, no basis in reality. What they were saying was far more about them than it was about me, and that had been true the whole time.

It still makes me nervous every time I hit “publish” on a new batch of nudes. But it helps to know that all the arguments I’ve ever heard for why I shouldn’t post them are essentially meaningless. I’m not trying to get an office job. I don’t give a shit about impressing misogynist trolls. No decent partner of mine would ever be threatened by me being naked in public. And most crucially of all, although I have my bad body image days like everyone else, I know ultimately – in my heart of hearts and pussy of pussies – that my body is beautiful and worth celebrating. The “someone just bought your nudes!” notifications that show up in my inbox are just one of the many pieces of evidence proving that to be so.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Camshows in Cramped Apartments: Online Sex Work During the Pandemic

Kate Sloan

Online sex work has become even more of a booming business since the COVID-19 pandemic swept the globe. Some sites, like OnlyFans and www.panamecorte.com, have experienced boosts in new memberships as high as 75%. More people than ever are turning to online sex work to supplement their income – and likewise, more people than ever are stuck at home with no access to partnered sexual experiences outside of their interactions with online sex workers. It’s no wonder this industry has seen a massive uptick.

But it’s important to note, too, that the past few years have been some of the hardest ever for sex workers, including those who work predominantly or exclusively online. Laws like SESTA/FOSTA, signed in by Trump in 2018, have severely limited sex workers’ ability to advertise their wares, recruit and vet clients, and get paid for what they do, among other things. There’s also still huge stigma surrounding sex work, despite its proliferation being such that you probably know at least one person who does it, even if you think you don’t. It may be the “oldest profession” but it’s nowhere near the easiest or most fun.

I’ve never been a full-time sex worker, but I’ve done cam shows, made porn videos, and sold nudes occasionally over the past several years – and I have to say, the pandemic has been an interesting time to be in that biz. I’ve gotten more unusual fetish requests than I ever had before, including some that were so extreme I didn’t feel comfortable fulfilling them. It makes me wonder if some people have been exploring their sexualities more deeply over the past year, since “normal life” is on pause and many of us have more time for self-reflection. (Kudos and congrats to those folks for their discoveries!) I think there’s also an element of touch-starvation here – sometimes when you’ve gone a long time without sexual contact, your fantasies can become more “out-there” to make up for the lack of physical stimulation with some additional mental stimulation.

My clients’ communiqué has been different, too – some of them are unusually polite and sweet, presumably because we’re all living through a difficult time so kindness is paramount, while some have been surprisingly brusque and rude, presumably because the conditions of this pandemic are stressful AF and have also atrophied many of our social skills. You would think people would be nicer to sex workers, given what the folks in that industry have been put through these past few years, but nah…

I’ve also had to be more careful about the ways I take payments than ever before, having been burned by whorephobic payment processors and the puritanical laws that try to keep sex workers off all such platforms. It’s gotten so bad that many times I’ve considered giving up sex work completely, and focusing only on my more “respectable” writing work. If you care about sex workers’ livelihoods (which you should), please reach out to your local lawmakers to make that clear, and to demand that they work to repeal laws like SESTA/FOSTA that make sex work much more dangerous and precarious than it needs to be.

Despite all these roadblocks, I’ve still found comfort and solace in doing online sex work (sparingly) over the past year. When a client pays me to put on a cam show or make a sexy custom video, I have to put some effort into my appearance, something I’ve often let slide during this depressing hell-year despite how good it tends to make me feel. I also have to cultivate sexual energy in myself, because it’ll be super obvious if I’m not turned on at all – so sometimes I’ll take the time to do that by using sex toys in a hot bath, or spritzing on a perfume that makes me feel like a bombshell, or just giving myself a sensual mini-massage before filming. Most of my life over the past year has existed inside a computer or a TV, so my connection to my body feels somewhat weakened – and these little preparations help.

It’s a difficult, interesting, painful, yet uplifting time to be a sex worker. If your favorite sexy service provider helped you get through this past year, I hope you’ve been tipping them accordingly, treating them well, and writing to your congresspeople to express your concerns about how sex workers are being treated in the legal system. Shit’s tough out there, and anyone who brings more pleasure into this world – sexual pleasure included – deserves to be praised and rewarded for that tenacious effort.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Things That Are Basically Porn For Me Now

Kate Sloan

It’s no secret that the coronavirus era has massively changed the way many people relate to their own sexualities. Some people are coming out as gay, bi, or pan; some are realizing they’re further toward the asexual end of the spectrum than they realized; some are trying new sex toys, kinks, or positions; some have forgotten what sexual desire in non-stressful times even feels like.

I find all of this deeply relatable and understandable. My own desire levels have waxed and waned countless times during the past year, but mostly they have waned. I’m still having sex regularly, due to the genius ministrations of my lovely spouse, who has read Emily Nagoski’s Come As You Are cover to cover and thus understands how to turn on someone whose sexual brakes are engaged and whose desire is responsive, not spontaneous. But there are also non-sexual things I find nearly as exciting as sex these days, that help me relax and experience simple pleasures in much the same way as sex can.

I abhor those books and articles that joke “porn for women” can be pictures of men doing housework or childcare, as if 1) women have no inherent sexuality and 2) men being functional adults constitutes sexiness all on its own. So that’s not what I’m doing here (and if your domestic partner’s been doing all the dishes or scrubbing all the toilets lately, maybe go do some of that right now). But here are 5 non-sexual things that have consistently given me rushes of near-pornographic pleasure, relaxation, and satisfaction over the past year. They may not be as racy (or as stigmatized) as the most-viewed clips on the top porn sites, but they help me nonetheless.

 

1. Building Sims houses

I had resisted getting into The Sims 4 for ages, despite having adored the original games as a kid/teen, because The Sims 3 didn’t impress me all that much (I thought the open-world-ness of it all was weirdly out of step with the game I’d fallen in love with). But then the pandemic hit, and what was I gonna do, not buy a life simulation game that allows me to travel and socialize and go to work at a time when I couldn’t do any of those things IRL?!

There are a lot of things I love about this latest iteration of the game, most notably that they have better options for your Sims’ gender identity/expression and that there are several super inventive expansion packs, including one called Eco Lifestyle so your Sims can reduce their carbon footprint now (amazing). But the building part of the game is more versatile and fun than ever, so much so that entire communities have sprung up on YouTube, Instagram, etc. focusing on beautiful houses people have built in their games.

I think I find it relaxing and satisfying to build houses in The Sims because it gives me a huge amount of control, at a time when I feel very out of control in the rest of my life. It’s also really neat to watch Sims living their lives in a space I built from the ground up – kind of like how it can be gratifying to build a kink scene for a partner and then usher them through it.

 

2. Loungewear shops

I’ve written about loungewear a lot here over the past year, so I won’t repeat myself too much, but suffice it to say… most days I would rather slither into a crimson modal slip than slide into some Tinder beefcake’s arms (or DMs).

 

3. Flirty fanfiction

Something I learned about myself, in my earliest forays into non-monogamy nearly a decade ago, is that when I’m not allowed to date/kiss/fuck people other than my partner, it’s not the sex I miss most – it’s the flirting.

In fact, many times, I’d rather skip the sex entirely, which I know is not exactly a common stance in the non-monogamy community. But the sex I have with an established partner is so much better than the sex I have with randoms, in part because of my complex web of anxieties, fantasies, kinks, and physical limitations. It’s the flirty banter, the innuendo-laced double-entendres, the rising heat of my own blushing face that I miss most about dating other people.

But since I have neither the energy nor the vaccination status to do that stuff right now, fanfiction is one area where I’m able to live out those flirty fantasies and feel transported into a romantically intriguing life other than my own. Romance novels work great for this too, of course, but sometimes I just don’t have the mental wherewithal to spend time getting to know new characters; I just want to read about characters I already know and love, making each other giggle. Is that so much to ask?

 

4. Comedy, in all its many forms

The three things that got me through this pandemic, above all else: my spouse, my family, and comedy. It’s as simple as that.

Matt and I have torn through multiple comedy TV shows this past year; we’ve (re-)watched practically every comedy movie I’ve ever loved (most recently: School of Rock, an absolute masterpiece of poignant goofiness); we’ve laughed our asses off at weekly live improv shows over Zoom (PLEASE subscribe to the Bad Dog Comedy TV channel on YouTube if you’re into this!). My days and weeks have often felt structured around comedy, oriented towards it. Some people are “workin’ for the weekend”; I’m working to get through the day until I can watch Stephen Colbert or Maya Rudolph or Tom Hearn or Catherine O’Hara at night.

Matt sometimes semi-jokes that watching comedy together is the best foreplay for me, and I think they’re right on the money with that theory. It helps distract me from the troubles of the day, ease my physical and mental tension, and flood my body with endorphins. It made this year bearable for me, which is no small thing at all.

 

5. Poetry in the bath

Modern poets like Rachel Rabbit White, Shane Koyczan, and Zoe Whittall have inspired me deeply over the course of this pandemic. I’ve devoured their books, and various other poetry tomes, at lightning speed. I’ve even started writing poetry myself, something I hadn’t done with any degree of seriousness in many years, despite it being a favorite hobby in high school (I even won some contests and got published in some anthologies back then). It feels like a way to rediscover beauty in a world currently so stripped of it.

Reading poetry in the bath is particularly hedonistic. I’ll usually load up the tub with some scented bath salts, light a candle, and lay down in the hot water with my waterproof Kindle in hand. I take my time with each poem, trying to absorb its artful words and its layers of meaning. I build a little world for myself in the tub, glittering and beguiling, in a way that everyday life once was and might be again someday. It makes me feel like a normal human again, despite everything that’s going on.

Poetry “frees us from the tyranny of the sentence,” says Rachel Rabbit White; “poetry is play.” We could all use some freedom from tyranny after the year we’ve had. We could all use some play.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

I Felt Guilty About Findom, Until I Didn’t

Kate Sloan
A pair of red patent leather Louboutins my spouse bought for me (which I sadly had to return because they were too small)

Financial domination is one of the most profoundly misunderstood kinks. There’s a common perception that all it involves is “making” someone give you money without giving them anything in return – which, sure, would be exploitative if it wasn’t consensual. But by its very nature, findom is only findom when it is consensual. Otherwise it’s just financial abuse.

Findom is most often done in a professional setting, as an interaction between sex workers and their “paypigs.” Sometimes it may involve exchanging provocative pictures, incorporating adult roleplay chat, and other perks – but in its most basic form, it is quite simply one person being consensually bossed into giving money to another person. In that way, it’s not all that different from any other type of power play in the BDSM world. Sure, money is a more tangible measure of the power being exchanged, and it can alter the conditions of your actual life, outside of the bedroom and the dungeon – but that’s part of why it appeals to so many people. It’s like playing poker for real dollars when you’re used to only playing for Monopoly money.

That said, financial domination can happen outside of professional contexts too. It’s become part of my dynamic with my spouse. During an initial findom chat when my partner and I were negotiating this new addition to our relationship, one of the things we discussed was my concern that I was somehow a “bad” financial dominant if receiving gifts and cash didn’t physically turn me on, the way receiving oral sex or a good spanking can. My partner gets a boner (albeit not necessarily a raging one) when I command them to buy me a cute new bag or pair of shoes; I felt like an impostor for not having the same type of physiological response to what was supposed to be a kinky, sexy act.

But the more that I’ve thought about it, and the more that we’ve discussed it, the more I’ve realized that physical arousal is not the only measure of whether an activity is pleasurable or “sufficiently” kinky. Of course, I already knew this in other areas – I knew, for example, that many asexual people enjoy kinky activities for their psychological effects, despite having little-to-no sexual response to them – but it was surprisingly hard to apply this knowledge to my understanding of findom in my own relationship. I think that because money is such a heavy, fraught topic IRL, it can be equally tricky and fraught to accept your desire to play with it in a kinky way. It brings up enormous feelings about “deservingness,” privilege, power, scarcity, and fear. But you know what? So do a lot of other kinks!

The dual-control model of sexuality, popularized by Emily Nagoski, Ph.D. in her seminal book Come As You Are, has been a helpful framework for me in thinking about findom. This model understands sexual arousal as being affected by both a “sexual accelerator” and “sexual brakes.” Your accelerator is stuff that actively turns you on, like porn, erotica, dirty talk, and receiving pleasurable touch, while your brakes are things that inhibit your ability to get aroused, like stress, distractions, or chronic pain.

I think my hesitance about findom came from the expectation that it had to be a sexual accelerator in order for it to be “valid” as a kink – when, in reality, for me it operates much more like an alleviation of my sexual brakes. When my partner buys me a beautiful new lipstick, for instance, wearing it makes me feel prettier, thereby alleviating some of my appearance-related stress. When I “made” them buy me a body pillow and started sleeping with it every night, my chronic pain eased up and I was able to sleep better, which certainly made arousal easier to achieve. Likewise, when my sugar daddy way back in 2017 gave me enough money each month to cover my rent, I was obviously way less stressed about making ends meet, which made space for me to get turned on much more easily. Money is a near-constant stressor, as it is for many people, leaning hard on those sexual brakes – so any relief in that area results in relaxation that can blossom into arousal.

There’s more than one way to enjoy kink, and anyone who tells you there’s only “one true way” is lying to you. If you and your partner consent to particular acts or a particular dynamic, and you prioritize risk-awareness and open communication, it’s hard to go wrong. An erect dick or wet pussy isn’t the only measure of whether something excites or fulfills you. If a kinky activity makes you a bit happier, or makes your life a bit easier, or makes your days a bit more beautiful, then I think it’s been a success.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.