‘AND ANOTHER THING’ .... CELIA WALDEN
Sex, the lifestyle accessory Let’s be grown-up about it
‘Sex is back” – which is both a relief and a surprise. Where did it go? How did all these miniature humans get conceived in the meantime? And now that it’s back, should we throw it a party?
That’s exactly what one LA socialite (the author of this un-ironic pronouncement) thinks we should be doing. By hosting an inaugural “sex soiree” earlier this month, Christine Chiu – the wife of a famous Beverly Hills plastic surgeon – wanted to “empower” her girlfriends, remind them that it’s not OK to be “an 8 in the bedroom and a 10 in the boardroom” (apparently, we should be straight 10s, if not 20s), and, I’m guessing, start a trend.
Well, that trend’s already well under way. People may not, by and large, be handing out embossed Smythson invitations to “Sensuous seated dinners with Expert adult presentation and Xtraordinary desserts with toys” (Chiu’s official definition of a sex soiree); they may not be serving their friends aphrodisiac “intercourses” of black truffle arancini and violet oysters with pearlised vanilla ice cream, decking the table out with sex toys and openly discussing their problems and proclivities with guest therapists around the dinner table.
But using sex – or a highgloss Instagram-friendly version of it – as a brandenhancing tool? Hell, anybody who is nobody is doing that.
You may have missed the giant inflatable phallus Kourtney Kardashian brought with her on her 38th birthday celebration in Mexico last month, overshadowed as it was by pictures of her sister Kim’s bargain-bucket drumsticks (and, no, I’m not fat or cellulite-shaming here – you can’t shame someone who is shameless). But you’ll probably be aware that as part of her new Kimoji merchandise range, the reality star is flogging a pool float made to look like her rear end. (If you want it to look like the unairbrushed version, just let some of the air out.)
Aren’t these girls naughty? Aren’t they sexy? Aren’t they just too much? What you wouldn’t give to be a billionaire entrepreneur who lives a nipple-tassle-tastic life that’s essentially one, long bachelorette party, eh?
Only, here’s the thing: I don’t believe for a second that any of these women are remotely interested in sex. Real sex, I mean – not the conceptual, novelty toy version to be filmed and shared (and by shared, I mean peddled) with 50million strangers. They’re all talk and no skirt, quite literally in Kim’s case. And it’s so easy! You just cut ’n’ paste the words “feminism” and “empowerment” somewhere in your marketing bilge, and voilà! You’re not just making money but a valuable – and brave – cultural statement.
Of course, every generation thinks it invented sex, but at least our predecessors enjoyed having it. At least it wasn’t purely a lifestyle accessory to them – a titillating little acronym like LV and CD to hang from the crook of your arm as you tweet about what an incorrigibly bad girl you are.
And it all trickles down, doesn’t it? Students at Plymouth University are being invited to “step into heaven and hell” at a “saucy but safe sex soiree”, and the other day my 70-year-old neighbour at a very staid dinner party announced that he was “looking forward to getting it on” with his wife that night.
Poor old buffer obviously thought that TMI (too much information) was the new WTG (way to go). I don’t think it is.
So how about everyone stops using sex to make either a point or money, enhance their brand or up their Insta-follower count and gives the real thing a try?
If nothing else, it’s a screen break.
‘You just cut and paste the word feminism in your marketing and voilà!’