Rihanna’s Dark Lips & Mini Buns As She Reveals New Album Cover Art — Love Or Loathe?

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 16, 2018 in Allgemeines

Rihanna revealed the cover Face Slimming artwork for her first album since 2012, with a bold beauty look that included black lipstick and a mini bun hairstyle. The singer was sporting a ’90s-goth look, and we need to know what you think!All eyes were on Rihanna and her gothic black lipstick and mini bun hairstyle when she revealed the cover and title for her upcoming album. The 27-year-old hosted a party for her 8th album announcement, Anti, at the MAMA Gallery in LA.

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!For the event, Rihanna wore her Latex Waist Wrainer hair long with defined curls, pulling the top half of her hair back into multiple mini knots. The style reminded us of a No Doubt-era Gwen Stefani, and of course, Rihanna managed to make it work.

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RiRi made another bold statement by pairing her tiny twists with a matte black lipstick. Having tried out blue, purple and brown shades, we know Rihanna is not afraid to experiment with color - this black shade added a gothic twist to her all-black ensemble. If you want to copy her color for yourself (Halloween is coming up, after all), try Anastasia Beverly Hills Liquid Lipstick in Midnight.

Rihanna’s Black Lipstick At Album Cover Release - Love Or Loathe?For those of us not on the party guest list, Rihanna shared multiple pics of the cover art to her Instagram, which was created by artistRoy Nachum.

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Change Your Spouse upon With Tempting Latex Underwear

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 15, 2018 in Allgemeines

There are a lot of methods you can check out in Face Slimming the event that you have to zest up things in the center of you and your accomplice in relation to your love life. For just one, you can begin beautifying better and wearing attractive make up to create your guy give consideration to you. However else you could placed on some fragrance that would certainly pull in him for you. Alternately you could put on excitingly-composed underwear that would make him fail to take his eyes away you. Latex underwear is usually prescribed in case you come with an alluring and engaging body that is usually holding up to become paraded, because this latex lingerie might stick on your body just like a second pores and skin and cause you to look ultimately hot and enticing!

Latex-based garments are quick growing to be profoundly appealing things in the clothing business today, including underwear. The material’s capacity to stick to one’s body and possess the woman’s bends wonderfully is likely the essential reason of why this material is usually turning out to be gradually prevalent each day when we discuss garments. Latex is additionally difficult and light, in this manner you will feel as if you are certainly not wearing anything at all other than rather truth be told you are. Therefore latex includes a lot of sexual intercourse claim, and it turns out to become perfect to create lingerie, particularly if you are searching for attractive undergarments points to improve your sex bet and draw in your accomplice.

Latex underwear comes in different structures, colours, Latex Waist Wrainer styles and thickness, therefore you would have to know your requirements legally before ongoing to purchase these. In case you are searching for clear, open under garments things, latex-based underpants might most likely become the best bets to offer you some help with succeeding in pulling in your man.

The state of mind costume manufacturer that you will be attempting to make might decide the shade of the latex underwear that you intend to wear. In case you are preparing for a night packed with fervor and forcefulness, the intense color of reddish or the solid shade of dark might benefit you. By through a great many people settle on the shades of dark, white-colored and reddish when we discuss latex under garments as these colours suit the material better.

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Teeth Bleaching and Corsets: Unhealthy Beauty Habits

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 13, 2018 in Allgemeines

16th century Europe considered milky Face Slimming white skin to be fashionable, while in our current day people appreciate darker, tanned skin. In the country of Myanmar a long neck is regarded as beautiful and some of the women there will use rings to stretch their necks even further. In Bolivia it is considered that an attractive way for women to dress is in skirts with bright colors and a bowler hat (or bombin) perched on top of their heads. In America many people consider dental care to enhance attraction, jumping to purchase the latest teeth cleaning product or heading to the dentist’s chair for some cosmetic whitening. Each of us has methods or rituals that we follow because we feel more attractive and confident when we do so. Sometimes, however, it is good to analyze our practices and make sure that our beauty habits aren’t doing more harm than good. Below are some methods that were discontinued due to health concerns, and also some that are still continuing today.

Corsets created a slender silhouette, but wreaked havoc on the body’s natural functions. Although now worn more for adornment than function, corsets, or “stays,” were popular from before the sixteenth century to the early twentieth century. In that time the shape and make of the corset changed as women (and sometimes men) desired their figures to better conform to the styles of their day. As the corset developed, wearers found they could draw the laces tighter and tighter, to achieve a smaller and more slender form. Usually worn under clothing during the day, some people even wore them while sleeping at night, to ensure that their body held to the shape forced upon it by the corset. This constant pressure on the torso forced the bones of the ribcage and the organs underneath to adjust and reorganize, leading to an unnatural and unhealthy frame.

Feet binding consisted of breaking the bones in the foot Latex Waist Wrainer to achieve a smaller foot. Because large feet were considered unattractive, women in Asia began the practice of feet binding to force their feet to remain small and continued the practice from the tenth century all the way to the twentieth century. The process began when a girl was between 2 and 5, before her feet had time to fully form. The local foot binder would break the girl’s toes and the bridges of her feet, then bind the foot together, hopefully resulting in a foot that was between 3 and 4 inches. Although women were still able to walk, dance, and work with bound feet, they endured a lifetime of discomfort and reduced mobility, leading to the practice of foot binding finally being banned in 1949.

Tanning can create a “healthy glow,” but can also harm the body and cause skin cancer. In the present day, many people find sun-tanned skin to be attractive and flattering on both men and women. While many opt for lotion or spray-tan versions, a lot of people will head to the tanning salon, the beach, or their backyard to get a quick blast of rays. While a moderate amount of sun is good for producing vitamin D, overexposure to the sun’s UVB rays can be harmful to humans, causing damage to skin, eyes, and immune system and even perhaps causing skin cancer. Although fear of cancer shouldn’t send everyone running in a panic for indoors and nailing down the window blinds, care should be taken to always wear sunscreen.

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The Word on Special Occasion Lingerie

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 12, 2018 in Allgemeines

You have begun shopping  Face Slimming online for lingerie, but what is your purpose? Is it to find comfortable, sexy undergarments that could be worn any day of the week, any time of the day? How do you want your lingerie to work for you? Does it give you an extra boost of confidence under your suit or khakis? Is it a present or a surprise for that special someone? Will it be convenient for you to “slip into something more comfortable” across the course of a romantic evening? Will you actually be sleeping in your undergarment? These are the factors that will help you determine what styles and fabrics are ideal for your situation.

The term “lingerie” encompasses a wide variety of styles in women’s undergarments and can indicate both any-day or special occasion wear. It is no secret that the quality of lingerie with regard to both its attractiveness and its durability can vary as wildly as the number of styles in which it is available. This is why the savvy customer should do a bit of reading up on the subject prior making a purchase in this line. The purpose of the following guide is to provide a generalized description along with a touch of basic advice concerning your choices in special occasion lingerie styles.

Bustiers Latex Waist Wrainer and Corsets

Bustiers and corsets are some of the more involved styles of lingerie and are generally reserved for special occasions. The principle difference between these two kinds of support is that a corset may be cinched tighter, typically with lacings in front and back although lacings may be only on one face or in some cases on the sides as well. Bustiers are more often than not made without lacings and will have at least one hook and eye closure seam.

Bustiers will often include garters whereas these are very rarely included with a corset. This fact has a great deal of benefit with regard to the modern trend of wearing corsets as outerwear or evening wear in that garters will not be problematic to the transition. Another fun trend is to incorporate a mini bustle with a corset ensemble made from non-traditional materials for a hip look with a Victorian flavor.

In their construction, these corset and bustier styles are very similar in that they create a sleek, idealized figure underneath fancy suits or formal wear. Due to the beauty of the materials and notions often employed in their construction both bustiers and corsets are most often worn as lingerie simply for lingerie’s sake. The strength of their figure controlling properties stems from the use of boning. These are metal or plastic rods mimicking what was once made from animal and whale bone, creating a sort of exoskeleton for all of your soft spots. Cups in these garments are also very supportive, almost never existing without underwire. Many bustiers do not include cups at all but will instead restrict your bust girth in order to create a pushed-up and out effect.

It should be noted that unless you are inclined to hurt yourself it is generally not a good idea to sleep in a bustier or a corset. This is not to discount the erotic properties of releasing yourself from confinement after a few hours. The point here is merely to alert you that bruising and pinching may occur with prolonged wear. It should also be noted that these are some of the more expensive items on the market. Custom made corsets can cost into the thousands of dollars (U.S.). The prices for manufactured pieces start in the $50 range and ascend based on materials used and designer name brands involved.

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Breaking Down the Stigma of Men Wearing Girdles

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 9, 2018 in Allgemeines

Most men take  Face Slimming for granted. It’s usually boxers or briefs if anything at all. If you talk to them about wearing a male girdle to improve their physique, they would probably laugh in your face. Most men associate the item with female clothing and this is a shame because girdles can be worn by both genders. Girdles have a long history of being medical back support underwear. High performance athletes are also aware of the benefits of sports girdles for lower back and leg support. Still, for some men to wear it everyday they tend to shy away from it. This is very unfortunate because girdles as a foundation undergarment can really elevate the way men dress and their ability to fit into clothes properly. For the guys who are more open minded, wearing shapewear underwear can take off inches from the waist line in an instant and without going to the gym.

The psychology behind men not embracing body shaping underwear might stem from the fact that they associate it with women’s underwear. While it is true that the shapewear industry mostly caters to women, the truth is they want to expand their consumer base to include men as well. Their bottom line is to make money. To cater to the male population, male girdles are very masculine looking and have an athletic look to them.

Frankly, society is also Latex Waist Wrainer changing in terms of what is appropriate between the genders and this line is blurring. You see men wearing guyliner, and also painting their finger nails. These overt displays of fashion are way more risqué than what men wear as underwear. Therefore, the stigma of wearing male girdles is overblown. If a guy wants to improve his physique by wearing support undergarments then that should be his choice. Unless he advertises it, no one would be the wiser.

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Open Your Mind to Men’s Thongs

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 8, 2018 in 100

When we think of  Face Slimming , thongs are not often the first type of underwear to come to mind. Women and men are often of two minds when it comes to men’s thongs: there are many reasons for them and many reasons against them. Men’s thongs are therefore considered to be a polarizing subject of discussion. However, this does not mean that they should be dismissed in an instant. Let us take a look at the pros and cons of thongs for men.

Many men and women believe that thongs should be worn only by women. This is because the thong is a revealing garment and while it is considered by some to be sexy, others consider the garment to be feminine rather than masculine. Boxers and boxer briefs are considered to be masculine forms of underwear. This is because it is commonly believed that men’s bodies are not designed to look good in a thong.

There are, however, individuals who are very Latex Waist Wrainer much for men wearing thongs. These individuals argue that men should be free to wear whatever style of underwear they choose and that men’s thongs are just as masculine as other forms of underwear. While thongs may, by nature, be very revealing, they are also much cooler and feel freer than other types of underwear. This means that they are particularly acceptable during the warmer months of summer.

Some men even find that thongs are more comfortable to wear than boxers or boxer briefs. This is because well-made thongs for men can provide greater support and coverage where it is most required. Thongs for men are particularly suitable for those who like to wear skinny jeans or tight trousers as they can help to create the appearance of smooth lines. There are a range of different thongs available for men. This means that there is a thong for every occasion: there are thongs for special occasions and everyday thongs. A thong must be carefully chosen to ensure suitability.

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Lingerie for Women

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 6, 2018 in Allgemeines

Are you not familiar with the term “ Face Slimming “? Well, let’s get introduced. Lingerie is generally considered as women’s undergarments. The word “lingerie” comes from the French word “linga” which means “linen”. It actually means women’s nightclothes or underwear in English. In 1922, the word “lingerie” was first used to refer to bras and undergarments. Though most of the lingerie is usually designed for women, but now some manufacturers also make lingerie for men.

The trend of lingerie started from the 19th century. Lady Duff-Gordon initiated the way of developing and designing it. At the beginning, women’s undergarments were very large and bulky. So, the demand was low then. But with the passage of time, the demand has grown higher and higher. Today, using lingerie has become a trend in new generations. Most of the women use it as it is fashionable and alluring to them.

Latex Waist Wrainer Materials

Different types of materials are used in lingerie undergarments. Materials are used according to customers demand and desire. It uses materials which are stretchy, flexible, sheer or even decorative materials like nylon, polyester, satin, lace, silk, Lycra etc. Materials which are stretchy and flexible are mostly used. But demand for decorative materials is also high. Silk, nylon, satin etc. are some of the most used decorative materials.

Market Demand

In the 21st century the lingerie market found its turning point. Today, it has earned a leading position in global market share. Besides, modern science and technology has helped a lot in making innovative items like molded T-shirt bras and laser cut seamless bras. Nowadays, designers are putting a lot of effort in making rich looking fabrics, laces, embroideries etc. In 2003, the amount of global market share was $29 billion and in 2005, 56% of the lingerie market share was held by bras. So, it is undeniable that the market demand is very high.

Categories and sizes

Today, there are different categories and sizes available in the lingerie market. Different categories like bikini, baby doll, Basque, Bed jacket, Bloomers, Bodysuit, Brassiere, Corset, Corsage, French maid, Chemise etc. are available.

Not all the women have the same body size. They have different body shapes according to their structure. Previously, finding different sizes was a little bit tough. This was especially for women with a plus size body; they had to face many difficulties. But that’s not the case today. In today’s market, there is a wide range of variety available. There are super shops and online markets. If somebody hesitates to buy from shops, they can order online. Women can do research at home and purchase online. It saves both time and money.


There are so many benefits of using lingerie. The most important ones will be discussed here. Different persons use it for different purposes. Firstly, it helps a woman to look more attractive. It has health benefits also. It is used to maintain hygiene in private body parts. It also helps in private matters like sexual intercourse.

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Nicole Eisenman Has Both Style and Substance

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 4, 2018 in 100

Face Slimming Nicole Eisenman was buying bacon at the Pines Pantry on New York’s Fire Island last September when a number she didn’t know popped up on her iPhone. The caller informed her that she had won a MacArthur Fellowship, aka the “genius grant,” which guarantees a stipend of $625,000 over five years—no strings attached. Like just about everyone who gets the call, Eisenman thought it was a joke. “I kept walking around the supermarket, saying, ‘Really? Are you sure?’ ” she tells me as we’re sitting in her studio in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn. “And then I just dropped my shopping and went to lie down on the dock. I heard these words about why I got it: ‘American artist’ and that I was ‘central to how art is progressing forward,’ and I was just weeping. It’s hard to shake those feelings that you’re not quite part of the club, especially as a queer woman artist and a figurative painter. Maybe I’ve been around long enough that people are like, ‘All right, you hung on—you can be part of the cultural conversation now.’ ”

When Latex Waist Wrainer Eisenman came into her own in New York in the early 1990s, she was on its fringes. It was the height of the AIDS epidemic and the culture wars—a time ripe for the emergence of what the Hammer Museum’s director, Ann Philbin, calls “Nicole’s fierce, nasty queer-girl voice.” Painting and figuration were just starting to regain art world acceptance, via the works of John Currin, Lisa Yuskavage, and Elizabeth Peyton, but Eisenman had yet to see her own desires reflected in anything she was looking at. Then, during a studio visit in early 1992, Philbin, at the time the director of the Drawing Center, fished an ink drawing out of a trash bin that Eisenman had done of Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble having sex. “She said, ‘This is what you should be doing,’ ” Eisenman recalls. “She meant that I needed to speak personally. I was throwing away that point of view, because I thought there was no place for it. So the floodgates opened.”

What poured out were collages, drawings, and paintings inspired by comics, pornography, and art history that challenged sexism and pop culture and celebrated female utopias. There were images of a lesbian-recruitment booth, packs of women taking men captive, horse-riding Amazons, all rendered with virtuosic panache. “She owned that territory in a way that no one else did,” Philbin says, pointing to a 1992 Drawing Center commission that was “like a WPA mural with sneaky dark humor and feminist politics. Even now, Nicole has this extraordinary ability to cut to the core of the toughest subjects with diabolical finesse and searing humor.” Her breakout moment came during the 1995 Whitney Biennial: One of Eisenman’s contributions was Self-Portrait With Exploded Whitney, a massive mural depicting herself painting the only remaining wall of a collapsed Breuer building as dozens of men flee from the wreckage. “Her subversion,” says the painter Amy Sillman, a longtime friend of Eisenman’s, “really beamed out.”

These days, Eisenman’s ability to absorb art history and recast it as her own is so prodigious that looking at her output over her 25-year career, you might not fathom it as the work of a single artist.“I’ve never been able to home in on one way of doing things,” she says. “For years, it caused me a lot of anxiety, but I’m finally okay with it.” Renaissance, Baroque, social realism, German Expressionism? She’s been there, done that. But, as Massimiliano Gioni, the artistic director of New York’s New Museum, notes, “she doesn’t passively genuflect in front of art history; she resurrects it and camouflages it into our present.” In one of her best-known series, of beer gardens, Eisenman updated French Impressionist café scenes, replacing 19th-century characters with the Brooklyn hipsters and queer artists who populate her Williamsburg crowd. In the past several years, she’s been painting even more deeply autobiographical group tableaux that call to mind the haunted worlds of James Ensor or Edvard Munch. And then there are her monolithic faux-primitive heads, which were among the standouts of the 2014 “The Forever Now” exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, the institution’s first contemporary painting survey in 30 years.

Finally at the center of the cultural conversation, Eisenman is the subject of two shows opening in May that explore her range. “Al-ugh-ories,” co-curated by Gioni at the New Museum (May 4 through June 26), looks at her allegorical, narrative works; and at Anton Kern Gallery, beginning May 19, she will unveil recent paintings exploring her New York life. What connects the two is the artist’s consistent focus on the figure. “How I understand the culture ultimately comes down to what I feel through my body,” Eisenman says.

On this cold, rainy afternoon in February, bodies are in various states of repose in the huge canvases propped against her studio walls. She’s been painting all day and is happy with her progress. Brushes, paints, and notebooks cover every available surface in the small room crammed with clamp lights, ladders, and a bookshelf. “It’s the most tender work I’ve done,” she says as she settles into an old sofa and plants her hiking boots on a low table strewn with catalogs. “These are me and my life. They’re homey paintings, not born of complaint.”

Many paintings feature members of the tight circle of artists and curators with whom she’s shared a house on Fire Island for the past three summers. They call their community the Tamplex, a name coined by the artist K8 Hardy to describe one of the few mostly lesbian houses in the largely upscale gay-male community of the Pines. Eisenman likes to bring her sketch pad and water-colors to the beach. “She’s constantly creating,” says the artist Ryan McNamara, one of her housemates, referring to her endless doodling, as well as the chess set she made last summer. Eisenman pulls out the clay chess pieces when I ask about them, showing off a voluptuous queen and a king with a drooping ball sack. “He’s kind of the dummy, and she’s got some attitude,” she says.

Eisenman, 51, is warm and direct, with cropped dark hair that accentuates her large, searching eyes. On the day of my visit, she is dressed in black pants, a boyish blazer, and a T-shirt with a red heart drawn on it, but a cold snap is in the forecast, and she tells me that she plans to put on three sweaters and long underwear because the studio doesn’t have any heat. When I suggest that with her prize money she can surely afford a new space, she laughs. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I like the confines of this studio. The only thing I’ve allowed myself is an assistant.”

One unfinished painting depicts figures lying on the beach in a style reminiscent of Paul Gauguin’s; another is a portrait of Grace Dunham (Lena’s younger sister) and her girlfriend, Willa Nasatir, wrapped in an embrace. The couple posed for Eisenman, though she also works from drawings and found photographs or whatever’s in her head. “It’s the first time in, like, 15 years that I’ve painted a realistic portrait and used Italian glaze techniques,” Eisenman says. “Maybe this is what getting the MacArthur does: I don’t feel I have anything to prove, so I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Another new canvas offers a scene of friends at a party in Williamsburg—“an ideal moment of togetherness and community,” she says. But disrupting the reverie are her so-called “Shooter Paintings,” in which enormous abstracted faces, with the graphic pop punch of a Tom Wesselmann work, point a gun straight at the viewer. “They’re like the crasher at the party,” she says. “These terrible news stories that come crashing through in close-up. I’m fascinated by that contrast between tenderness and the intrusion of the real world.” She’s convinced that aggression and empathy—or “whatever the active feeling is”—get transcribed into paint by the artist. “To me, what carries the emotional content in paint is not the image; it’s really the texture. Texture is sculptural, and it’s a very primal experience.”

Eisenman’s father is a Freudian psychiatrist. As a kid growing up in suburban Scarsdale, New York, she loved listening to him interpret dreams. Often, she recalls, they’d go for walks and talk about what he was reading. But when she came out during her freshman year at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), he took it hard, she says, and they endured “a few rough years.” In The Session, 2008, she painted what she deems was her worst nightmare for much of her career: “Ending up homeless, without shoes, on my father’s psychiatric couch. My way of coping with fear is to tame it with humor. Here’s this person whom I love who is also my nemesis. It’s not one thing or the other—it’s all at the same time.”

Her parents’ home is still filled with folkloric paintings by her Polish-born maternal great-grandmother, a self-taught artist. As a teen, Eisenman took private art lessons with an inspiring teacher who had given up painting (“because she had been kind of cock-blocked from being part of the art world,” Eisenman says). Most weekends, Eisenman would escape to the punk scene in the East Village, where the world she encountered “matched the way I felt. It was such a relief from Scarsdale.” She moved to the city the day after she graduated from RISD, in 1987, and for the next five years took on a series of “excruciatingly shitty jobs,” painting faux-marble finishes in hotel lobbies and patinas on headboards at a bed factory. At night, she would occasionally paint murals on her bedroom wall.

Finally, in 1992, Eisenman devoted herself full-time to making art, after she sold most of her drawings in her first group show, at Trial Balloon, a loft space in SoHo run by the artist Nicola Tyson. A year later, she was included in “Coming to Power,” curated by the artist Ellen Cantor, at David Zwirner gallery. That survey of sexually explicit work made by and for women also presented pieces by Marilyn Minter, Cindy Sherman, Lutz Bacher, and Louise Bourgeois. Eisenman admits that at the time she had no idea who any of them were but recalls it as a heady period in which she felt “alive with pleasure” at being empowered for the first time. Critics quickly took notice. In the ensuing years, she took part in an exhibition at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, in London, that she liked—and another at the New Museum that she didn’t. Both shows, though entirely independent of each other, used the same title, “Bad Girls,” and explored feminist ideas in works by female artists. By the early aughts, however, Eisenman felt stuck, tired of her tightly rendered crowd scenes and political jokes. What followed was a period of wild experimentation—in paintings, prints, and sculpture—as she sought to loosen up her style with color and texture. She began looking more closely at the 20th-century masters. The figures in paintings like The Breakup, 2011, and Guy Capitalist, 2011, with their squeezed-from-the-tube red mouths, shows her toying with color, form, and abstraction. But she remained politically engaged too: The Triumph of Poverty, 2009, portrays a downtrodden crowd following a leader who moves, literally, ass-backwards, while a child holds out an empty bowl.

Eisenman lives not far from her studio with her daughter, George, 9, and son, Freddy, 7. She shares custody with her ex-partner Victoria Robinson, a producer who still lives nearby, in the house that the couple restored and where Eisenman painted a mural in the kids’ bedroom. Though Eisenman’s apartment is in a stylishly converted warehouse at the epicenter of hipsterdom, its decor is decidedly homespun, with a living room that doubles as a workspace. In the entry is a painting of a rugby match by her great-grandmother; above the sofa hang “trades” from friends: drawings by Dana Schutz and Jason Fox, a woodblock print by Tal R, and a drawing of Eisenman that Marlene Dumas made while the two sat in a bar in Amsterdam. Laid out on the living room floor are her children’s fantasy worlds constructed in Legos. Freddy’s is a Lower East Side tire shop; George’s is an oceanfront house in the Pines. “I really like the gay-rainbow tree house she made with a pool in the front yard,” Eisenman says.

When the kids were younger, Eisenman’s nostalgia for a way of life she felt she was losing to parenthood found its way into her paintings of people out celebrating, she recalls. “But then I realized that wasn’t true. That kind of life wasn’t over.” For her 50th birthday, last year, artist friends Leidy Churchman and A.K. Burns threw Eisenman what she describes as a giant “rager” in a local garage, with the transgender poet and model Juliana Huxtable playing the role of DJ. “It might be the last night in my life that I will ever party like that,” she says.

In the wake of her breakup with Robinson in 2011, after 12 years together, Eisenman experienced a period of turmoil. “I was literally weeping when I was making these,” she says, pointing to images of the monotype portraits of heads that were shown to great critical acclaim at the 2012 Whitney Biennial. “Everything is dripping and underwater. You know, sadness is very fruitful for me.” She paused. “My emotional life and my work are so interconnected, but I have always felt embarrassed to talk about my art that way. It’s not cool. But what are you going to do? I’m stuck with it.”

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With a New Will Ferrell Film, Eva Mendes Is Showing Off Her Funny Bone

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 3, 2018 in Allgemeines

Face Slimming Eva Mendes was riding in a cab through New York’s SoHo in May when it stopped at a red light on Houston Street. Looking out, she saw herself splashed 50 feet wide across a billboard, writhing in a white tee and skinny Calvins. “There I was,” she says, “all greased up, my head thrown back, and I thought, Who are you? Are you kidding me?” Later that day the curvy beauty, now ensconced in a banquette at the Carlyle hotel restaurant, laughs as she recounts how disconnected the sighting made her feel. “There’s that little surreal moment,” Mendes says. “I’m proud of it, absolutely, because why not? I can access that side quite easily, and I enjoy it, but certainly how boring if that was all I had to offer. The goal is to explore all sides.”

Coming from Latex Waist Wrainer an actress who has posed nude for the cover of Maxim, provoked a controversy with her bare nipple in a 2008 TV ad for Calvin Klein perfume and spotlighted her shapely breasts in countless photo shoots—in Italian Vogue, they were smushed upward by an unseen woman’s feet—this may strike you at first as disingenuous. But spend a little time in Mendes’s company and you begin to see that her most substantial assets are not just the ones on perennial display.

“Can I get something out of the way really quickly?” she asks as she scans the menu, holding up her slender hands to show me her crazy long fuchsia nails. “Not me! These are fake nails for a photo shoot, and they won’t come off. I was looking at my hands and thinking, Ugh! What are these?”

Talons aside, Mendes, 35, is surprisingly delicate and unadorned in person, with a quick wit and the kind of boundless optimism that reveals itself in the way she says “aMAZing!” when asked to describe an experience. Tonight she’s wearing a white gauzy summer dress with a plunging V-neck, and her hair is loosely piled atop her head. She has willowy arms, a forehead that furrows and slightly buck teeth, as she calls them, that lend her generous smile its warmth.

“It’s very hard for me to be seen as funny, and the truth is, that’s where I’m most comfortable,” she says when talk turns to her latest film, The Other Guys, which opens in August and also stars Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg. Mendes plays über woman Sheila Gamble, a Knicks dancer–turned–doctor married to a dunderhead of a forensics cop (Ferrell) who doesn’t realize what a babe his wife is. “These are the two comments I get from people when they meet me,” says Mendes, who lives in Los Angeles but is in New York for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute gala. “‘You seem a lot taller on film,’ and ‘You’re funny.’ If people hang out with me, they see I’m a ham.”

XEva MendesFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestFBSharePinterestPreviousNext1/7TogglePhotographer: Mert Alas & Marcus PiggottStylist: Alex WhiteFull ScreenFerrell and longtime cowriter Adam McKay, the film’s director, had written Gamble expressly for “someone like Eva Mendes, who is instantly recognizable as one of the most beautiful women in the world,” says Ferrell, without knowing if she’d actually go for their brand of goofball absurdism. And then McKay had lunch with her, “and it’s kind of shocking how funny and cool she is,” he says. “She’s very quick and honest and isn’t afraid to make fun of herself. So within two seconds, she isn’t like a beautiful Hollywood actress anymore, she’s Eva and game for anything.”

In the past 12 years, Mendes has appeared in 24 movies, though it’s safe to say that despite some memorable performances, none have propelled her to the top of Hollywood’s A-list. She’s longing to stretch, she says, having been cast more typically for her looks, so redolent of the full-bodied Sixties Italian sirens Sophia Loren and Gina Lollobrigida, than for her acting cred. Among her best-known roles: Denzel Washington’s mistress in the 2001 police drama Training Day; Joaquin Phoenix’s sexy squeeze in the compelling 2007 cop thriller We Own the Night; and the canny, fast-talking gossip columnist Sara Melas in Hitch, the 2005 blockbuster romantic comedy that costarred Will Smith as the dating coach she falls for. Though Mendes was singled out for praise, it was the heavyweights Washington, Phoenix and Smith who got the lion’s share of critical attention.

With The Other Guys, however, Mendes may well give her co-stars a run for their money. “It was completely liberating,” she says of the opportunity to play in another key. “Never have I had so much fun with a character and felt so natural at it. Had I done this movie three years ago, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to throw it back at Will, and now, if anything, I was overly confident. I didn’t know when to stop!”

Mendes, Ferrell recalls, was nimble on her feet and always knew where the joke lay. His and McKay’s method is nonstop improvisation, a working style they’ve honed in such films as Anchorman and Talladega Nights, but one that was new to Mendes. Asked to sing a little ditty they’d composed called “Pimps Don’t Cry,” Mendes “made up this funny, weird, touching moment where she’s caressing my face and singing this song like a lullaby, completely seriously,” says Ferrell. “It was odd and insane and funny all at the same time.”

No stranger to being the lone female in a testosterone-fueled ensemble, Mendes happily jumped into her next project, tentatively titled Last Night, because it allowed her to work alongside Keira Knightley and to inhabit a buttoned-down, understated character for the first time. The film, which does not yet have a release date, features Knightley and Sam Worthington as a married couple tempted to stray. Mendes plays the husband’s alluring business associate, and though she’s the other woman, “she is not seen as overtly sexy as she’s been in other films,” says freshman director Massy Tadjedin. “There’s a softness and subtlety­ in her performance that makes it a very real depiction of a woman.”

While waiting for her Monster, the indie movie that turned Charlize Theron from babe into Oscar-winning actress, Mendes has tried to be savvy about the roles she accepts. Her winning turn as Nicolas Cage’s prostitute girlfriend in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009) may have been overshadowed by Cage’s deliriously whacked-out performance, but the chance to be directed by Werner Herzog, she says, was reason enough to sign on. She initially turned down director James Gray when he approached her about We Own the Night because she wanted a more complex, sensual character than was written. Only after Phoenix joined the roster and Gray promised to allow her greater input did she go forward. “She’s now trying to avoid ‘sultry, hot’ Eva Mendes,” says the director. “She’ll say, ‘Can you please write me a part?’ She has a very deep commitment to the craft of acting in a way that most actors of her generation simply do not.”

Mendes did not grow up with any ambition to become an actress. The summer before her senior year at California State University, Northridge, where she was dabbling in communications without much focus, her neighbor, a photographer, happened to snap a few pictures of her, which caught the eye of an agent. Soon she was booked for an Aerosmith video (“Hole in My Soul”) and won her first film role, as a screamer in the straight-to-video horror flick Children of the Corn V: Fields of Terror (1998). Her utter lack of experience led Mendes to seek out L.A. acting coach Ivana Chubbuck, with whom she still regularly takes class.

Her big break came three years later in Training Day, and though the script didn’t call for it, she suggested to director Antoine Fuqua that she appear fully nude in her first scene. She and the character played by Washington had just made love, she reasoned, so why was she topless but wearing her underwear? “I’ve never had a problem with nudity, but I don’t put it out there without a reason,” says Mendes. “I’m not an exhibitionist. But, honestly, for my art I’ll do anything, almost. I’ll go there.”

She certainly went there in We Own the Night—in the opening scene, Mendes masturbates in her underwear. “I remember calling my acting coach after seeing that first scene and telling her how embarrassed I felt, and she said, ‘It means you bared your soul.’ I was like, ‘Right,’” she says in agreement, adding earnestly, “I’d never felt that before.”

When asked whether all the nudity makes her feel objectified, Mendes doesn’t flinch. “I know I walk a fine line between being a respected actor and being what they call a sex symbol,” she says. “It’s a hard one to walk if you want to be known as a real, credible actor. But I’ve never felt objectified. Nothing you see me do is an accident. I might act like it’s an accident, but the opposite is true. I’m incredibly calculated when it comes to my career.”

And she’s not shy about using her celebrity to open doors. After admiring a gallery show by Francesco Vezzoli while she was in Rome last year, she arranged to meet the Italian artist and suggested they do something together. Soon after, Vezzoli, known for his clever use of celebrities, cast her in a new project at the Jeu de Paume in Paris. The work took the form of an ad campaign for a fake museum show, and included a video that evoked Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, in which Mendes channeled Anita Ekberg as she promoted the museum. Also included were photographs of Mendes re-creating famous sculptures of women, all of them, in the artist’s eyes, icons of carnal desire.

For all her steamy allure, Mendes has, in fact, led an exceedingly sheltered life. The youngest by more than 10 years of four children, she grew up in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles in a tight-knit, rambunctious household. Her Cuban-émigré parents divorced when she was about 10, and Mendes was raised by her tough-minded mother, whom Eva regularly accompanied on weekends to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where her mom, Eva senior, worked in the gift shop and the box office. Afterward, they’d see a movie together. She still remembers the way her voluptuous mother dressed for work (in a “long geisha gown—gorgeous!”) and always had her hair done, even off duty. Money was forever tight, and Mendes recalls the anxiety she felt whenever the phone or the electricity was cut off.

But they always had meat on the table, courtesy of her father, a meat distributor, who occasionally took five-year-old Eva on his rounds to the slaughterhouse. “I loved my dad so much and wanted to go to work with him,” she says. “He’d put me in a room to draw. I couldn’t see what was going on, but then my dad would come out, full of blood. So now I don’t eat anything from a slaughterhouse.”

A member of the drill team in high school, Mendes ran through a variety of odd jobs, including one at Hot Dog on a Stick. She was fired after she gave what she thought was an amusing secret Santa gift—comprised of personal-care products she’d bought at a drugstore—to a fellow employee. “The girl I gave it to didn’t have a sense of humor,” she remembers, and in an instant she’s back there. “In your face, Marcelle!” Still, she was, by her own admission, “a late bloomer.” She shared a bed with her mother until she was 17, and didn’t leave home until she was already working as an actress. “I’ve never really lived on my own,” says Mendes. “I didn’t dorm anywhere or have those experiences that a lot of my friends had.”

She met her current love, music producer George Augusto, shortly after high school, and the two now own a midcentury house in the Hollywood Hills. To hear Mendes tell it, her idea of a fun night is staying home with her dog, Hugo, a Belgian Malinois, to watch the episodes of 60 Minutes she Tivo’ed. Lately she has been listening to recordings of Maria Callas, whom Mendes says she’d love to play onscreen. “You can catch me at a very dark hour listening to an aria from Norma and crying my f—in’ eyes out,” she says. “I love doing that.”

She’s also fascinated by the diva’s decision to abandon her career for shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis. “She gave it all up in the name of love, only to be left because she gave it up,” says Mendes, who is developing a project based on a Callas biography by Nicholas Gage. She admits that the story has become something of an obsession for her, seeing in it, perhaps, resonances with her own dual passions. “I’m a modern woman in the sense of I take care of myself, I’m fiercely independent and I’m really ambitious,” she says. “Yet I have these old-school thoughts ingrained in my mind. I do like to belong to a man. I love having a man in my life and being his woman at the end of the day. I know it’s a dichotomy.”

Motherhood is another role Mendes has yet to fully resolve. “I’ve never had a longing to have children,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it lately because it’s like, Oh, God, am I going to do this? I don’t know is the answer.”

Despite her candor about most issues, she refuses to discuss her 2008 stint in rehab at Utah’s Cirque Lodge—for what her reps then vaguely called “professional support” for “personal issues”—professing that audiences know too much about actors. But she does go to therapy weekly, she allows, and “loves” self-help, pointing out that she regularly listens to audiobooks by self-help gurus Wayne Dyer and Eckhart Tolle. “It’s really interesting,” she says of Tolle’s The Power of Now, “especially because Eckhart has such a comforting voice. It’s great to fall asleep to that and just have that sit in my subconscious.”

The next time we meet, it’s the day after the Met ball, and Mendes has her hand stuck in a glass of ice at the St. Regis hotel. The diamond-studded ring she’d borrowed to wear the night before with her Dolce & Gabbana strapless floral gown is still on her finger. The jewelers had shown up that morning to retrieve it, she tells me, but try as she might, she couldn’t yank it off. So now she’s soaking her swollen finger, hoping to remove the ring before her afternoon flight to L.A.

The theme of this year’s Costume Institute show is “American Woman,” and as Mendes describes the opening, she orders a Red Bull and recounts how she spent just 14 minutes at the after-party so that she could head back to her hotel room to watch movies. When the conversation turns to her own, I ask if she feels that her ethnicity has limited her choice of roles. “I’m sure it has,” she offers, “but I just want to see the positive. I don’t consider myself a Latin American actress. I was born and raised here, and I have Cuban parents, but for me, I am the new American girl. It’s not only Drew Barrymore and the blond Midwestern girl. This,” she says, extracting her finger from the ice to point to her face, “this is also what we look like now.”

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Risque Business

Posted by wholesalebikini on Jan 2, 2018 in Allgemeines

Face Slimming “When Correctly viewed,” singer Tom Lehrer once noted, “everything is lewd.” With designers this fall conspiring to make kink the new black, the latest styles ask—demand!—to be seen from the dirtiest possible perspective. Seldom for the faint of heart, fashion now caters to the out-and-out fetishist, featuring offerings such as leather Valkyrie halters and lace-up platform boots (Alexander McQueen), fur-covered glasses and bags (Givenchy, Alexander Wang), tough-as-nails leather trenchcoats (Jean Paul Gaultier, Mugler), nipple-revealing sheers and molded breastplates (Gaultier, Stella McCartney), and odd fuzzy helmets crowned with pointy horns or animal ears (Givenchy, again). For my money, these last pieces rank among the season’s perviest standouts, in that they resemble required headgear for an unusually chic convention of “plushies”—people whose preferred sexual partners are stuffed animals and/or fellow humans in animal-mascot uniforms.

Not ready to rock a Latex Waist Wrainer kitten hat? How about Hermès’s most unusual new confection: leather pants and riding boots cut from just one large sheet of leather. Available only in bespoke (bien sûr), the boots sprout seamlessly and disturbingly from the pant legs, rather like the breasts and toes that extrude from the frilly white dress and sensible brown shoes in René Magritte’s 1947 surrealist painting, Philosophy in the Boudoir. (As if to stress the fetishistic value of this image, the artist borrowed its title from an infamous sex treatise by the Marquis de Sade.) Its high-culture connotations notwithstanding, Hermès’s uncanny creation lacks any obvious precedents in the fashion world, leaving wide open the question of what one should call it. My editor likes the vaguely scatological coinage “poots” (pants plus boots), whereas I have been lobbying for “begs” (boots plus legs). My rationale is that nothing can beat (ahem) “leather begs” in evoking the brutal degradations practiced and preached by the aforementioned notorious libertine, who not only gave his name to “sadism,” but who once reportedly bound one of his tomes in human skin.

Decadence also cracked the whip at the Louis Vuitton show, which Marc Jacobs announced was inspired by “disciplines”—of the strictest S&M variety, that is. From see-through mackintoshes to diamond handcuffs, corsets in high-gloss leather to French maids’ collars in plasticized lace, sex-club staples abounded on the dimly lit, shiny black runway. While Naomi Campbell and Karolina Kurkova strutted their stuff in fuzzy police caps decorated with plastic Zorro masks, vodka shots flowed freely in the audience. The fact that it was 10 a.m. only heightened the mood of no-holds-barred naughtiness, which climaxed when Kate Moss appeared in the last, all-black ensemble. Dragging languidly on a cigarette and affecting a hardened, world-weary mien, she sauntered out in strappy lace-up boots, a fitted jacket with skin-baring cutouts and fur sleeves, leather gloves, and a pair of tight, high-waisted briefs that left nothing to the imagination—including the bit of uncharacteristic extra poundage she appeared to be carrying. And this very “fatness” (I use quotation marks here to remind us all that a fat day for Moss is still a superskinny day for everyone else) may well have been the most daring display of all. Why? Because she pulled it off with the unblinking nonchalance of a seasoned dominatrix—one who would beat you silly not because she wanted to (she’s been there and done that, more times than she cares to count) but because you were asking for it. “You looking at my pudge?” she seemed to say. “You’ll look at it and like it. Now fall to your knees and beg for mercy before I pull this Zorro mask down over my eyes, push up my huge furry sleeves, and put this cigarette out on your naked, tender, trembling…”

I realize, dear reader, that you don’t need me to finish this thought for you. However, your ability to complete it on your own raises an issue that anyone considering a walk on fall fashion’s wild side should contemplate. Which is that, even if you choose these trappings on the basis of style, others will interpret them on the basis of sex—a truism that, alas, I can corroborate through personal experience. Once upon a time, a younger, sillier woman than I am today was on a pub crawl with girlfriends in New York’s East Village. En route from one bar to another, we happened to walk past one of that neighborhood’s famed fetish boutiques and trash-talked one another into venturing inside. There we were greeted by a middle-aged sales associate clad in an oversize cloth diaper—a man who, for reasons that I can only chalk up to my height (five feet eleven), my looks (Teutonic), and my luck (terrible), singled me out of the group for a full-on erotic makeover. Before you could say “mistress mine,” he pulled me into a changing room, stripped me naked, doused me with cornstarch (“So the rubber won’t snag on your skin”), and jimmied me into a black latex minidress no more substantial than a dishwashing glove. While I scowled woozily in the mirror at the resulting sausage-casing effect, my pals confiscated my street clothes, handed the adult baby a credit card, and announced through peals of laughter that I would now have to spend the rest of the evening thus attired.

Outfoxed and humiliated, I complied, but concluded that only blind drunkenness was going to get me through the ordeal. At the next bar, I duly downed several tequila shots purchased for me by a dark-haired, shifty-eyed stranger. Even more recklessly, I agreed to let him cook me dinner at his place the following evening. “You’re having a rough night,” he purred. “Let me wait on you hand and foot.” To their credit, my now remorseful girlfriends urged me to decline the offer—to no avail. “The creepy dude was right!” I yelled. “I am having a rough night, and it’s all your fault! Fine, so I don’t know him from Adam, but what harm could come of a nice, home-cooked meal?”

As I learned the next night, if my new suitor had any say in the matter, a whole world of harm would come of it—harm to himself, that is. My naïveté and my hangover, though, prevented me from realizing this right away. I didn’t figure it out when he greeted me at the front door of his town house not with “Hello” or “Nice to see you,” but with a curiously vehement expression of disappointment at my not having worn “that hot rubber thing again.” Nor did I read between the lines of his subsequent patter, despite the incongruous leer that played on his features while he talked. (“I slaved all day to make this chicken for you”; “I’m such a bad boy—I didn’t add enough salt!”; “So, you’re a professor? Are you really hard on your students?”) And I definitely wasn’t prepared for him, after we had finished eating, to violently sweep all the glasses and dishes onto the hardwood floor, hurl himself down amid the broken shards, unzip his fly, and entreat me to “punish” him by trampling on his “wiener.” At that point, I fled the scene. But I had learned an invaluable lesson: Sometimes a black rubber dress is not just a black rubber dress. Correctly viewed, that thing was lewd.

THE HISTORY OF FETISH WEAR is rife with precisely such misunderstandings. The Austrian novelist and nobleman Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs (1880), for example, established an elaborate, intensely eroticized dress code for dominant-submissive interactions: tall black boots, fitted black bodices, satin and lace negligees, diaphanous wraps, black ribbons and hoods, tight leather pants, menacing whips, and piles upon piles of rich, sumptuous furs. While these items, largely due to the book’s cult success, have since become shorthand for sexual cruelty, by Sacher-Masoch’s own admission it was purely by chance that they took on this connotation in his mind. As a child, he had a crush on an aunt who loved sable cloaks and extramarital sex. On one fateful occasion, he hid behind a clothes rack in her bedroom and watched her beat her husband with a leather whip for having dared to interrupt a tryst with her lover. As soon as she realized that her nephew had witnessed the entire scene, she “disciplined” him as well. “I must admit,” the author reflected years later, “that while I writhed under my aunt’s cruel blows, I experienced acute pleasure.” Forever afterward, he would associate this pleasure with pain—whence the term “masochism”—but also, just as crucially, with furs, leather, and other key pieces from his aunt’s wardrobe.

A generation later, Sacher-Masoch’s compatriot Sigmund Freud reached much the same conclusion in his own musings about erotically charged feminine adornment. In Fetishism (1927), Freud argued that any man with a strong sexualized attachment to a certain item—fur, velvet, leather, lace—developed this proclivity when he was a baby and, crawling underneath his mother’s dress, happened to look up. In this moment, the boy (the protagonist in Freud, as in Sacher-Masoch, is always male) made an awful discovery: His mother lacked the body part that he had already experienced as a source of supreme personal pleasure. Terrified that he, too, might one day lose this precious organ, the child averted his traumatized gaze and refocused it on the nearest other object in sight—which was usually, given his position on the ground beneath her, the leather of her shoe, the lace of her underwear, or the fur- or velvet-trimmed hem of her skirt. (Fur and velvet trim being distinctly retro adornments, we might wonder what items from our own era will one day feature in the fetishist’s repertoire: Spanx? Fit-Flops? Ankle tattoos?) This object would hereafter function in his unconscious mind as a sexually reassuring substitute for the “missing” maternal phallus. Like Sacher-Masoch, Freud’s fetishist falls in lust with an article of clothing that the woman herself did not don for that purpose.

Nowadays, of course, everything is different. Sacher-Masoch’s and Freud’s thinking has so thoroughly infused modern sexual culture that the totemic objects they discussed are more or less synonymous with unconventional, prop-based sex. Whether in high-brow erotica, such as the 1954 French classic Story of O (in which the masochistic heroine’s outfits play a starring role), or low-brow Internet porn, like “Blonde Jana Gets Kinky With Leather and Fur” (“Jana’s playdate couple likes to see her in a luscious fur jacket, latex stockings, and gloves…”), kink’s costuming practices are extraordinarily consistent, and for good reason. Contemporary bondage and sadomasochism rely on a well-defined sartorial code to separate insiders from outsiders. To adopt this code is to identify oneself as a member of the club; it is to say, as the fetishistically tricked-out ­Rihanna does in her 2010 song “S&M,” “Whips and chains excite me.”

So let the buyer beware: The dominatrix uniform cannot be worn innocently. But that, as kinky initiates know, is exactly why it’s fun. To test this proposition, I recently dug up a minidress that, because of its close resemblance to the black rubber number, I had avoided wearing ever since the creepy-dude debacle. I paired the dress—a tightly fitted, black leather Marc Jacobs shift from the mid-Nineties—with a pair of black felt, over-the-knee Azzedine Alaïa boots of similar vintage. Then I pulled my hair back into a naughty-librarian bun, clipped my dog onto a leash, and took her and my ensemble out for a stroll. Sadly, the experiment yielded no obvious X-rated results. No passersby begged me for a beating, and the few double takes I attracted could have just as easily been due to my outfit’s incongruity (with a 40-year-old woman walking her ancient, arthritic sheepdog) as to its sexiness. Still, the ensemble felt sexy. The sleek tightness of the leather made me stand up straighter; my stride automatically grew longer and more powerful in those high, clomping boots; and there was something deliciously wanton about the low, rustling whisper my felt-wrapped calves made as I walked. In my own mind, I had morphed into a seductive, tyrannical tormentor of men—a creature who, if handed a whip, would not have hesitated to use it. For one brief, shining moment, I was a believer. However much or little my kink wear did for anyone else that day, it was definitely good for me.

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