Naughty Paris - naughty_shopping

Fetish Home Shopping

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 00:59:17 +0100

In case anyone was still wondering if fetish is really mainstream or not, check out the latest Paris metro billboard for Galeries Lafayette Maison (the home decor branch of the historic Parisian department store):

They could have shown sofas, blenders, cute little vases or a tool set, but instead they have a woman dressed in stiletto boots, latex catsuits and elbow-length gloves, and a smoking rooftop on her head...maybe they're trying to get more (heterosexual) men interested in home decor!

(okay, there *is* a nice Philippe Starck chair there, but who the heck is looking at *that*?!)

French Drink Increases Female Libido

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Wed, 10 Jan 2007 21:25:00 +0100

Too exhausted from work, the weather, kids, or life in general to faire l'amour? Feel like you could use a little boost to the libido? The French have invented a special drink called Diapensia (stupid name) that claims to increase a woman's sex drive. Best of all it's all natural:

Firmly believing in the wealth of traditional medicine, a French research team was able to identify the active principles of the Galanga plant, grown in Asia and reputed for centuries to have aphrodisiac activity. Based on this plant’s active principles, the researchers developed Diapensia, a concentrate of aphrodisiac effects intended to help restore sexual desire.

At €29/bottle plus shipping, it isn't cheap (they recommend a few teaspoons a day), but who knows...could be all you need to put the spring back in your step! ;)

Café de L'Industrie Opens Lingerie Boutique

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Mon, 01 May 2006 16:15:00 +0200

The popular Bastille bistro Café de l'Industrie is taking over the Rue Sedaine, 11th. First one bistro, then another across the street, and now the other side of the intersection with Rue Sabin is L'Industrie Lingerie, an adorably sexy lingerie boutique with a retro-boudoir look. All of the lingerie is red, white or black, and by up-and-coming designers, for original and inexpensive nighties, bras, corsets and panties. A bustier and g-string combo is less than €30, and the woman who runs the boutique is friendly and super-helpful in helping you find what looks good on you.

And you get another 5% off if you bring your receipt from the Café de L'Industrie! Highly recommended.

D is for Démonia

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 16:10:00 +0200

One sunny Friday morning (okay, 11am isn't morning for everyone, but it is for us freelancers who go directly from working at our computers to bed at 2am), I met up with the lovely ladies Carolyn and "Mademoiselle B" (not her real name) for a bit of pre-party shopping at Démonia, one of the city's best-known naughty toy and outfit stores at #10 Cité Joli, 11th (just off the Rue Chemin Vert, M° Pere Lachaise).

Look for the "D".

Unfortunately the store doesn't open until 11:30am, so we had the chance to stop into the Musardine Erotic Bookstore around the corner and grab a quick glass of red at a tiny café (for courage, gulp!)

Démonia isn't the prettiest boutique, with its neon lighting and unimaginative decor, but they have a good selection of quality outfits and toys. They also act as a box office for many of the naughty events around town, selling tickets in advance at a huge discount, which makes it worth the trip.

Is it strange to see the outfits that some of the clients are purchasing? Hell yeah. We all shuddered to think that we might see one particular gentleman (who we only noticed because he was loudly mumbling to himself in the clothing section) at Sunday's PervArty soirée wearing the plastic, pale blue, frilly bloomers. "Maybe he's going to the other party," I said, hopefully.

It probably sounds cruel, but I'd feel the same if we were at a bathing suit store and saw this guy purchasing a Speedo. Just because I like to see skin at the beach doesn't mean I want to see *anyone's* skin. Duh. If Jude Law wants to come to the party wearing plastic shorts, I'm not going to complain (although I might still prefer to see him in leather). ;)

Sexy Boudoir

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Thu, 20 Apr 2006 12:55:00 +0200

Despite the rumor that every Parisian apartment is decorated like a boudoir, there's definitely a growing trend in sexy décor. This "tendances" page ripped out of a fashion magazine shows a "corseted chair" and lamp in the silhouette of a woman (both by Inov), plastic pink Champagne glasses with sexy decals to customize them (by lingerie designer Chantal Thomass), and a gorgeous bustier lamp made with steel mesh (by Vanessa Mitrani). It's a nice improvement on the red velour curtains, non?

It's a bike seat! A purse! A...sex toy?!

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Thu, 13 Apr 2006 11:55:00 +0200

Naughty designer Jérôme Olivet has created something called the "Love Bag". Sold for men or women, it's a small purse (big enough for credit card, cell phone and keys), that actually slips out of its straps:

"Thanks to its removable and rigid heart, it lends itself to erotic games."

Set your cell phone on vibrate, girls!

Made from a leather-like, rigid PVC for €90. Check the website for boutiques.

The Problem with Latex

noreply@blogspirit.com (Heather Stimmler-Hall) — Sat, 18 Feb 2006 11:50:00 +0100

The biggest fetish party in Paris, Nuit Dèmonia, takes place every December. Of course I had to go. Not just for research, but for the wardrobe. Because while “echangiste” sex clubs may be all about increasing your odds of getting lucky -- very lucky, even! -- fetish clubs are all about le look. I recruited a brave lady friend of mine (we’ll call her Lila) who was intrigued with the evening’s strict dress code: leather, latex, vinyl or uniform. Lila is the kind of Parisienne who has the perfect outfit for every event. But this was new for her. “What will I wear?” she asked in wonderment. I asked myself the same thing; remembering sadly that I had recently given away a leather miniskirt from my college days because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn it.

But never fear. This is Paris, after all! And of course I knew exactly where to “get kitted out”, as the Brits would say. There are two excellent boutiques on Rue Quincampoix (near the Pompidou Centre) selling fetish wear, corsets, uniforms, stilettos, and even accessories like whips, chains, and hand-cuffs. The little police uniforms were cute, but we already had our corsets, so we were looking for skirts. I found a cute little black vinyl skirt, not skin tight but shaped a bit like a cheerleader’s skirt. But I felt a little, well, naked. A pair of long black gloves would complete the outfit. But they had to be shiny (to match the skirt), and they had to fit my skinny little arms.

“We don’t sell latex,” said the shopkeeper at the largest fetish boutique on the street. She explained that it was too fragile and the outfits always got damaged and couldn’t be sold. Meanwhile, Lila is an Amazon, too tall for most Parisian clothes. Not finding anything she likes, we both cross the Boulevard Sébastopol to the goth boutiques of Les Halles.

Goth boutiques are not the most elegant places in the world (nor are they trying to be), but it’s a great place to find black vinyl skirts in every shape. Lila finds her bliss in a long, flowing skirt (straight out of Cruella DeVille’s closet). I try on the elbow-length vinyl gloves. I frown at the way they’re baggu around myupper arms. “You going to the Nuit Dèmonia tonight?” the heavily-pierced shopkeeper asks. I nod. We’re obviously not the only ones who waited until the last minute. I pass on the vinyl gloves, and resign myself to a trip to the Dèmonia boutique on the other side of town, where I knew I’d find latex gloves.

But on the way to the métro, the window displays along the Rue St-Denis caught my eye. If you know this street, you know that it’s best to ignore the tacky sex shop and sex show store fronts. But of course there they were: latex gloves, for sale in one of the “toys and videos” shops. These are not places for Good Girls. But in the interest of time, Lila and I give it a go. It’s hard to know how to act in a boutique surrounded by absurdly-sized silicone body parts and even the more absurd covers gracing the XXX-videos on the shelves. We focus on the gloves.

One pair are made of rubber, so thick that I could have used them to clean up toxic waste. Impossible to bend my fingers, though, so we move on to another pair that are just too long. Finally, we find a pair that I think might work. Keep in mind it’s December, I’m wearing eight layers of clothing that I need to mostly take off to get the gloves up to my elbows. The owner is smoking heavily as he talks to us, and maybe we rush a bit because we’re sure we’re going to pass out. He includes the silicone-spray in the bag with my purchase and we burst out of the shop into the fresh(ish) Parisian air.

Silicone spray is one of the necessary accessories when buying latex, because it’s what gives the latex its shine. Otherwise you’ll look like you’re wearing deflated balloons. It’s only when I get home I realize the bottle is mostly empty. Maybe it leaked, but maybe it came that way. No way I’m going back, though.

Getting ready for the evening, I apply a ton of talc powder so that I can get my gloves on, smooth the air bubbles out of the fingers. This takes almost twenty minutes. I apply the silicone and buff them up to a nice shine. In the métro on the way to meet Lila, I wonder if anyone notices the shiny black hand clutching the steel bar. Otherwise I’m completely covered by my winter layers, my stilettos in my backpack.

The gloves look awesome, like a second skin. I feel like Aeon Flux. Fetish nights are, after all, really just Halloween for adults. Who doesn’t love to dress up all sexy? But then I start to notice a funny feeling. Or rather, a lack thereof. By the time I reach Lila’s house, I have to rip the gloves off, terrified that the loss of circulation will make my fingers fall off.

We have a glass of wine, pose for some funny photos (that will never see the light of day if we have any say in it), and head off to La Loco. The flyers advertise a “changing room” so that no one has to arrive in their outfits. But it’s really just one huge room with a coat-check service, and everyone is in different corners assembling their outfits. The first two people Lila and I spot are a fat man and a dwarf. But more on the actual Nuit Dèmonia in another post. We peel off the layers hiding our tiny outfits, slide into our stilettos, and – rather too quickly – I attempt to put my gloves back on. But since they’ve been silicone’d, they’re now “fragile” (the words of the first boutique owner echoing in my head). I put in one hand, give a gentle pull, et voila. I now have a fingerless glove. Lila glances over in my direction as I curse ever-so-inelegantly.

“No one will notice,” she assures me. I glance out into the darkened club, have another look at the growing expanse of exposed skin in the dressing room, and suddenly don’t feel so naked in my skirt and corset. I rip off the gloves and toss them into the backpack with my sneakers.

My latex love affair got off to rocky start. But I’m not ready to give up just yet. I saw these amazing latex thigh highs at the Salon de la Lingerie. To be continued…