Written by Natasha Lawrence
Welcome back to the Candace Diaries. In this month’s exploration, we’re going to a sex club. Our mother’s don’t know.
In the original Sex and The City book, Candace has an column excerpt of going to a sex club. Naturally, as intrepid journalists, we had to do the same, all in the name of journalism.
Champagne Fueled Ideas
It was late one night night when my BFF Grace and I stumbled into our favourite snack bar for an after bar snack (try saying that ten times fast). We had downed more champagne than our bodies would have liked and were thinking of creative new ideas for when we hang out. Rock climbing! Museum! Sex Club! The thought popped into my mind and out of my mouth. You see, Candace Busnell had ventured into one of these locales for a story, so naturally, the idea was on my mind. I explained this series to Grace, who loved the idea and insisted that we don’t forget about the sex club in the morning. We even texted each other the words “sex club” to jog our hazy memories.
The following weekend, our third bestie, Lauren, came in to town from Vancouver. Lauren is a buyer at a massive fashion store and lives, much to our dismay, a whole 6 hour flight away. Of the three of us, she’s the most eccentric, willing to try almost anything. Naturally, after 2 mimosas, we had to fill her in on our genius idea. Of course she loved it and plans were officially made for where and when we were to go.
Confidence found at Hanky Panky
The weekend Meghan Markle was getting married to a prince, I was getting strapped into a latex corset at a sex shop..What started off as a joke between two friends on a Saturday afternoon in a mimosa state of mind (Wait. Do I have a problem?), became an actual purchase. A $69 purchase that I immediately regretted as I typed in my pin. But, what the hell? I’m in my twenties, and life is about these little adventures. When I’m going through my stuff at 40, I’ll look back on this latex purchase and think “remember how wild my twenties were?!”
The latex corset was to be my top for the night at the sex club. We decided if were were going, we were going all out. Until the sex club however, my purchase was staying in the discreet black bag safely stashed in the back of my closet. But of-course, curiosity had me pulling it out every now and then to try it on and marvel at how sexy I felt.
I’m a person who likes my clothes, well tops, to never touch my body. That means my t-shirts of choice are men’s, I always opt for a size or two bigger and I have no clue what my waist looks like. The corset changed that. It hugged every curve of my upper body, and I liked what I saw. The way it pushed my boobs up and narrowed my waist had me feeling confident in my own body.
I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!
Maybe it was because Candace was going to a sex club in the 90s, and I went in the 2010’s, that our experiences were so vastly different. Candace referred to participants as sex zombies, but I would characterize them as terrifiying Ryan Murphy characters. The one thing we can agree on: Those who go to sex clubs are the people who are really weird in real life. My demure friends and I felt incredibly out of place. Not because we aren’t weird, no, we consider ourselves to proudly be ladies in the sheets but freaks in the bed. No, we felt incredibly out of place because sex for us didn’t require ball gags, or horse masks. We were surprised to learn that our sex tastes were, well, vanilla.
