All Fur Coat & No Knickers?!

Musings on Sex & Selling...

Does sex sell? Do you buy things because some Amazonian brunette big-lipped beauty heaving with lust just for your eyes only makes you feel that this thing she’s wet with desire for will make you desirable and lust-worthy too?

Does sex sell? Or is it all just smoke and mirrors?? (or rather, all fur coat and no knickers if we're being more alluringly contextually appropriate!)

Does sex sell??

Well. Yes. But it’s not as simple as that now, is it?!

Coolio might have sung the power and the money, the money and the power over and over again in his Gangsta’s Paradise version of the 90s, but when we add in the other two combustible combinations, women and sex, then, BOOM! Houston, we have lift off! (Or lift up! If we bring those Wonderbra adverts into it! ;-)) A little like being in the science lab at school back when you were a geeky awkward teenager with pimples, thick-rimmed glasses, sweaty hands and access to a Bunsen burner and some chemicals from the top shelf of that wibbly wooden shelving unit.

Is sex a transaction? Is it always as simple as that? Buy me dinner and hold the doors open, and as a sign of how grateful I am, you can eat me out for dessert!?

You know, I used to scorn, mock and judge, (the usual then Ms Chadwick??!!! ;-D), women who had images of themselves in various stages of undress on their social media. I was like, wtf has this got to do with selling properties, life insurance, pastel-coloured macaroons, bunion pads, reading glasses, your supper of finest foods, wax candles… well, maybe for the latter I can kinda make an exception! 

And yet here I am, in my peachy bra, slinky black silk dress, legs slightly ajar, posing like a boss, and, gazing directly at you, with a rather haughty-couture expression staring out right back at ya from my photos!

What happened? Have I simply jumped on the babelicious booby bandwagon?! Am I desperate for attention? For likes? For some man (or woman) drool? Is this just spamming you (that word courtesy of someone on FB’s response to my picture!) so that you’ll be so overcome by lusty desire that you’ve typed your credit card details in with sweaty fingers whilst breathing heavily?!

Erm. No. Hell no.

Let’s get one thing clear. I don’t do sexy. Believe me. I’ve tried of course, pouting, and flouncing, and tarting, and flirting, and looking like (in my mind, bless) one of those sophisticated model-type women whom you want to kiss, ravish and adore. Alas, I am not made like that. I look like an idiot! It’s a bit like when I try to be high-class, get dressed up like a ‘lady’- guaranteed I will either come back from the bathroom with my skirt tucked into my knickers; have loo roll stuck to my shoe; fall over because, you know, heels; spill something down me; rub my eyes accidentally smudging my make-up mysteriousness; or all of the above (true story). I just can’t do it. I can’t be effortlessly a lady. I can’t also be effortlessly sexy. As much as I try!

(Just to give another example here of this strange unobtainable paradox – I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way that I would be able to (comfortable and walkably) wear any of my high-heeled beautiful, sexy-as shoes, outside the house, would be to pimp-up the walking stick that I used when I had a sprained ankle many years back, and have that as my accessory of choice! – which kind of cancels out the effect! Damn! (I’m still a-toying with that option though; I can see lots of fabric flowers all over the walking stick – gran would be proud!))

Trying to be sexy. How does that work out for you darling?

Well. Not terribly successfully, I’m sure. Not if we’re trying to be so. The key word here is trying.

It just doesn’t work! It’s embarrassing for all concerned. Trust me. I know.

So, back to the musings around sex and selling! Look, I believe there’s two kinds of things going down.

The first kind of sex and selling is the one we're probably most familiar with. You know. The billboard one. The glossy magazine one. The movie star one. The music star one.

Style over substance.

A mask.

All surface level. Scratch a bit and there's nothing there. Well, I mean there is of course. There's sex. The Ann Summers sexy (though they also have some fun stuff too 💋). It's superficial. The photo maybe saying I have nothing to offer but my ass, kinda pose! Something to turn a sticky page for.

A fix. A snack.

And there's nowt wrong with a stack! Just to be clear!

But I don’t want a snack all the time. No. I prefer something fulfilling. With substance. Depth. Nourishment.

Which brings me back to a few weeks ago, being photographed with money bills stuffed down my bra! Let me explain.

It seems that one of the side-effects of really aligning with working with, playing out in and teaching about living an erotic life, i.e., one that honours Eros itself, and focusing on Creativity, Sexuality, and now Money, is that one gets to start to feel empowered. From the inside out. Like, authentically in one’s power. An inner knowing. A feeling of owning the space of who I am. Of my voice. Of being visible. Of my abilities. Of my beauty. And of not owing one iota of apology for simply being me – and that includes, and I absolutely believe that they are so intimately embraced within each other, the luxuriating and claiming of my pleasure!

Being seen in our true pleasure is undeniably sexy!

And as I have, and continue in becoming so, in the embodiment of that power and pleasure, from the inside out, simply because - I feel so goddamn sexy!

You see, if I’m trying to be sexy, and believe me there were some photos that ended up in the delete basket after I guffawed at them, were exactly of me trying to be all sultry like, and they just did not work! I looked ridiculous!! The ones that did was when I wasn’t trying, but instead I embodied, rich, wealth, and power instead. It just so happens that these things, when owned, make us sexy. Magnetic. Attractive.

When we stop trying to be sexy or a lady or any of that bollocks, something curious happens – we automatically become that which we are seeking.

There’s a boom!

Something alchemical happens!

Basically, it’s magic!

Now, that’s all very well if you’re surrounded by folk who appreciate the finest things in life, which include the embodiment of the goddess, queen, warrioress beauty in pictorial form. Those that don’t immediately feel their dicks go limp at the sight of a woman in her power. Those that respect such a woman. That are turned on too by her. That celebrate her, encourage her, are inspired by her, that want to lean in closer to her, and so on.

But that’s not everyone. And I include women in this as well as men.

This kind of power is dangerous. It’s uncontrollable. It can make us feel uncomfortable as if there’s some part in the back of our mind that kind of remembers. It can illuminate where we are not in our power, and make us feel angry, upset, ashamed, triggered. It can bring out our judge in full force, to defend, protect. It can make us feel scared too.

Scared of the force of our own power. Our own pleasure. Our own beauty. Our own worth. Our own richness. Our own sexual energy. Our own voice. Our own beingness!

Sometimes we have power oh so wrong. As if someone having it, showing it, living as it, can somehow diminish our ability to have it too.

That’s bullshit.

One of my new favourite writers of late, Mona Awad, says in an interview, “I need to be seduced by the world”. Oh god Mona. Me too darling, me too. I want to live in a world where I feel I am being seduced in every moment. Where I feel the force of that current flowing and moving within me. Where I am turned-on by the simplicity of the ordinary moments. Where there is pleasure in all things. And where I can, and others too, show up as that seduction in motion, in action, in beauty, in awe, in wonder, in magic, and in plain sight!

This is me.

For me.

If you like it, then great.

If you don’t, then pause to ask yourself why!

For me, my original judgement about scantily clad women selling anything was mainly due to my own fear of my power and pleasure, and thus my own magnetism. Fear of my own visibility. Fear of my own sexual aliveness. Of my voice. Of being fully here, unapologetically!

Sure, there was some of my own paradoxical at times moral high ground, I’ll admit that! Judging another for how they choose to use sex to sell. Guilty your honour! I do that too at times. I know that. I own that. Ooops!

Essentially, maybe it’s about asking what’s the intention? What’s the why behind posting this image? To get likes that mean licks? To tease? To use one’s body as a transactional tool for attention, approval, praise, admiration, adoration, sexy talk? You know what?! It really doesn’t fucking matter?! Go wild. Go nuts! It’s totally your choice whatever the reason.

What does matter though is the full clarity and honesty of your why in the first place! Be honest. Because it’s within that honesty where your power lies. So, if your intention is to get attention, and then for some dude to ping you $1000000 for some bootylicious cheekiness, and you’re super up front about that, then go you babes!! Cheering for ya!

We know when being sexy is real. Funnily enough it’s a question I ponder often as I don’t think we really understand what it means to be sexy. It’s been hijacked for superficial getting off on and that’s a shame!

Be you. That’s what’s sexy, plain and simple.

That’s what those photos of me are about. For the first time ever I felt relaxed, comfortable, peaceful, mischievous, beautiful, womanly, sexual, creative, rich and powerful, and I let myself be seen and photographed in that. The fact that the images are sexy, is a bonus! Sure, I’ll pin them to my next offerings, if appropriate. Why the hell not! Such sass and sweetness need to be celebrated – and I’ll go first! Even if it’s still edgy as hell – being seen in all of that power and pleasure!

Here’s to your own sexiness my darling. And here’s to you using that resource for whatever you so desire! Have fun. Be in integrity. And don’t mind me if I dribble all over your pics!

Aho X

Hey dear one. Thank you for your time & attention to my words. It’s so appreciated. It would be super marvellous if you’d subscribe to my page. You can do so for free, and be sent an email any time I post some new words. Or, if you’re feeling uber generous, you can subscribe to a tier level and support this Storyteller (there are perks to each tier). Thank you kindly. To your Creative Genius X HH