I’ve had a week wherein, for reasons I don’t feel like sharing on the internet just yet, I felt decidedly unsexy. My face didn’t look great (or totally normal thanks to some health stuff), I couldn’t be that active, I spotted my rapidly graying hair in the wrong light, and I didn’t have an occasion to get dressed up. All of the typical things that make me feel like a true dime piece just… weren’t there, and I basically felt like a gross human blob.
We all have days or weeks when your sexy engines aren’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Maybe you’ve been down for the count with a cold or you have a newborn baby at home to keep alive or there’s no point to leave the house because it’s been pouring rain for five days straight. It happens! But that doesn’t mean it feels good to traipse into the bathroom, look in the mirror and feel like you’re definitely not going to snap any necks walking down the street in your current state.
That’s not to say you or I need external validation to feel sexy. A quick butt grab from your partner or a smile from the hot stranger across from you on the train definitely helps but it’s not the end-all be-all for establishing sex appeal. I’ve also never been a huge fan of subscribing to the current culture’s definition of what is sexy and what is not. After all, I came of age at the time when tabloids were running close-up photos of actors’ cellulite during a beach vacation (THE HORROR), as if a human woman enjoying herself in her private life needs to look airbrushed at all times. The lower your jeans and the higher your whale tail were what indicated your level of hotness, and in my gawky, gangly, utterly confused teenage years, I simply failed to measure up (and photos of my attempts to do so luckily have been scrubbed from the Internet).
Defining “sex appeal” is already a complicated matter. Is it a feeling you innately have at varying levels? Is it about the outfit you’re wearing or how much skin you’re showing? Is it about how fuckable you are to people you’d want to sleep with? And most importantly, who gets to decide?
Getting older as a member of the first digital-savvy generation already requires an excess of mental gymnastics and an extremely thick skin. Where Gen X and Boomers were allowed to age in the relative privacy of their social circles, Millennials — and everyone who will follow us — are much more vulnerable to online criticism, no matter how much, or how little, they live life online. Our inescapable digital footprint means our sex appeal is on display for everyone to judge, constantly and forever.
Still, it’s not as if I’m posting selfies while I feel this way. Nor do I feel judged or shamed by my boyfriend and friends. On the contrary, I could send a quick text bemoaning my lack of sexy energy and I’d receive a flurry of positive affirmations from people I love in less than five minutes (bless female friendships, they are truly the best). But what can I, and anyone else who is feeling like the complete opposite of a smoke show, do to remember that YES, I still have sex appeal in spades, and no amount of negative self-talk or advancing birthdays can take that from me?
How to Feel Sexy, According to Me
Someone who is not at all accredited for giving such advice, but this is MY corner of the internet
First, I allow myself to feel gross for a second. Sometimes you can’t alter your circumstances and you just have to feel like a scrub — it’s okay. Then after an hour, a day, maybeeeee a week, I change my surroundings. We all talk about the beauty of a rot day but when you’re ready to rejoin society, that means you need to get up and go somewhere, even if it’s just to grab an iced coffee. The same way my therapist reminds me how a walk around the block works wonders for lifting a bad mood, it can also help to dust off any negative feels about your attractiveness. Don’t forget to add a sexy AF soundtrack (High Heels by JoJo used to be my pump up song before a long bartending shift).
Then I take a long shower, using all the superfluous products (hair shine mask, body exfoliator, extra fancy shaving cream) that don’t make it into my regular regimen. When my mood dips, personal hygiene is usually at a bare bones level so an everything shower always helps. Plus, you know, you gotta get naked and that is invariably hot.
Post shower and skin care (make sure to use a luxe and wildly expensive body cream just because you can), I slip into my favorite vintage kimono robe, which is honestly too delicate for everyday wear but so fucking cool and chic that it’s the perfect special occasion piece. It shifts your mood so drastically to have something slinky and impractical in your closet. Something like this or this would do nicely.
I always feel more sleek and sophisticated when my hair is out of my face, so I pull my hair into a bun (after adding plenty of hair milk serum to keep it nourished of course) and twist it up to show off my neck, remembering that my neck is long and graceful like a damn swan (so says my inner monologue). I embrace shameless vanity and remember the parts of myself that I love. After all, this is moment for me, to help myself feel beautiful and confident and utterly alluring, not a performance for anyone else.
Then I blast more music (Sam Smith’s Unholy was my feral girl fall anthem and always puts my mind right), and saunter around my apartment with a spliff in my hands (use these cutie rolling papers), maybe dance a little bit. No phone recording, no audience. I’ll apply a sensual red lipstick, my quintessential tool for feeling capital “H” Hot, call a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, maybe fire off a saucy text to my boyfriend.
Ultimately, I give into all the things that make me feel powerful and in control — what I wear, how I groom, the music that I listen to, and in a world that loves to remind women how little we have control over (including our own bodies) I desperately need these moments to reclaim a bit of that power and self-confidence. Being able to do that in spite of everything telling you that you can’t because [insert misogynistic reasoning here] is not only extremely empowering but also irrevocably sexy.
I’ll drink an #AnxietyBeer to that.
retail < therapy
Opalhouse Hand Towel Designed with Jungalow: I did some inventory of my linens the other day (as you do in your thirties) and realized that I didn’t like any of my hand towels anymore. They were also pretty raggedy after 5+ years so I went in search of an affordable replacement. I love designer Justina Blakeney’s colorful maximalist aesthetic so I was thrilled to find that she’s done a collab with Target on some home goods, including these gorgeous hand towels. I bought two in this colorway and another two in the orange so my bathroom is going to be looking especially chic once the delivery arrives.
Leset Margo T-Shirt: I live in a white t-shirt whether it’s solo, under a blazer, or under a sweater, and this welcome blast of warm weather means it’s time to re-up on my favorite styles. I’ve been a mega fan of Leset since the brand started (and was called Liana if my memory serves me) and the Margo style is the perfect mix of boxy but not too bulky, thick enough to not need a bra but not too stiff, and ever so slightly cropped so you don’t need to tuck it in with mid-rise jeans. I often buy the three-pack in all the available colors because when you know what you like, get it in multiples. .
3. Phlur Missing Person Body Oil: I haven’t always been a fan of body oils — too greasy, doesn’t sink in fast enough, not moisturizing enough. I changed my tune after trying this new release from Phlur, a very chic fragrance and body care brand. My chronically dry skin felt insanely soft and soothed after application and I could crawl into bed afterwards without making my sheets sticky. The scent is a lusty blend of white musk, jasmine, and orange blossom, heady and well-balanced. It smells like it was designed for bare skin sans any clothing, which frankly is a vibe that I want all of my fragranced products to evoke.
Just remember: you are a fox. A dime piece. A smoke show. A torturously beguiling babe that can’t help but ooze sex appeal.
Cheers,
xxHB
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the way that using all the superfluous products in the shower can change a mood… loved this piece :)