The current blog series in the Boob Blogosphere is about Redefining Sexy – how sexy is interpreted by individual bloggers, including commentary about society and the place “sexy” occupies in the social conscience.
I think sexy has changed. The use and implication of the word has changed….
Sexy used to be sensual. The “Old Sexy” was delivered like a well groomed woman gliding through the room wearing the perfect amount of good perfume. Just enough scent to remind you she was there, and inspire you to chase. Sexy was a seed in your imagination – a luscious tickle that created fantasies of more. Sexy was the beginning of desire.
Smoldering gazes, witty repartee and lazy fantasies about the suit-clad executive across the restaurant have been replaced with a the “New Sexy”. A pouty pretty sporting a cheap swath of fabric tied around the midriff, ratty denim shorts cut to the crotch with cheeks and pockets hanging out, swaying in six inch gold heels with her buttocks poked out in invitation – all while running a string of crystals through her teeth.
If one takes her cues from media and fashion – sexy has for the most part, devolved into overt displays of sexuality and skin. And sexy, at least the popular interpretation, is suffering. When this is called sexy…
…what is this called?
But here’s the thing – sexy is subjective. My interpretation of sexy isn’t necessarily yours, and what provides stimulus for sensual fantasies in my dirty little brain may not work for you.
To me, sexy implies a level of comfort with one’s body and emotions. Confidence and self-assuredness are the centers of power from which sexuality blooms.
Along with society’s interpretation of sexy, my idea of sexy has changed. I’m older, and I’ve seen some trends come and go – and worn my share. I have decided clothes like this are no longer age nor situation appropriate for me.
I am no longer willing to tolerate uncomfortable clothing, shoes or lingerie to appear sexy. I’ve found my sexiest self is relaxed, confident and capable of intelligent thought – and to be that woman, I need to be comfortable. Sure, I’ll trot out the tight skirt and fitted top with a black lace bra and panty underneath – but they’re going to fit me well, and I’ll feel comfortable and secure while wearing them. I choose clothes that showcase me as a woman, not clothes that take the stage and force a performance. The days of standing around and attempting to look sexy, desirable and approachable are gone. I’m now the woman who demands titillating conversation, intelligent and funny banter – even from my husband.
Positioning strategically placed swaths of fabric, while I balance in platform heels and run long stringy objects through my teeth with my bottom stuck out may be something I can pull off in my bedroom for thirty seconds – but I can’t walk around like that all day.
What I prefer is seduction. Foreplay inspired by a sensual and determined mind, and sexy clothes in a conducive setting.
Sexy is noticing my hair has a particular retro wave to it that morning that frames my face and makes my eyes flash, so I change my entire wardrobe and toilette. That wave doesn’t want jeans – it wants glamourous makeup, a fitted silk skirt, stockings, and a fuzzy angora sweater that hugs my curves.
Sexy is when my husband notices the deep sway of my hips as I walk by in that silk skirt, and asks me to lunch – and then to bed.
Sexy is the flirt that begins the seduction.
One of my favorite movie scenes is when Catherine Banning stalks Thomas Crown in the 1999 version of “The Thomas Crown Affair”. Notice she’s wearing a knee length dress and high neckline – she’s confident, smart, sexy and on the hunt – and he’s completely intrigued. The plot and setting – 100% Hollywood. The conversation is 100% sexy.