My first encounter with the world of kink came at the tender age of 10, when my friend and I stumbled upon porn on late-night TV. It wasn’t just any old porn though – it was for men who liked to watch bridled women trotting around like ponies.
I always wondered where the people who liked this equine sex bought their human-sized tack. Then, aged 15, I was dragged into a adult shop by a friend who thought she could nab a boyfriend by wearing weird underwear.
While I know that sex paraphernalia can empower women, I’m also worried that it reaffirms the idea that a woman has to “please” her man whatever the cost.
But maybe I’m just being a prude. Besides, we’re living in a post-feminist world, right? A world in which twerking women can intimidate men and ladies in latex symbolize power, not submission.
With this in mind, I set out to explore Islington’s sex shops.
The Creep Factor – 100 Shades of Blue
If you’ve never had a six-foot man loom over you while you’re stood next to racks of gargantuan dildos then take it from me – it’s not a very empowering experience.
“Why are you looking at that?” the lanky shop assistant demands.
I’m flicking through a magazine advertising silicon-breasted escorts reviewed by clients. Sapphire got five stars because she was “naturally submissive” and up for anal sex.
“I think it’s interesting that you have a book showing women charging for sexual favours,” I say.
He glares at me as I continue to take notes. Notes about the sex dolls with rear-entry, the replica vaginas, and vibrators shaped like rubber duckies. Toys range between around £15 and £50.
The shop feels dusty, cheap and worn – it’s one visitor aside from myself being a little man with Woody Allen-esque sadness in his eyes.
And while there are products that cater to women, it seems like they are all there to be bought by men as spiteful gifts to their ex-girlfriends.
Empowerment factor: 1/5
Sleaze factor: 5/5
Not for the Ladies – Expectations
Taking my first tentative steps into this low-lit dungeon, I feel out of place but not uncomfortable.
Posters of men in leather chaps and rows of gimp masks lay bare the fact that what we have here is a very old-school gay fetish shop.
There are two men in this dungeon with me, each with their backs permanently turned away. One moves from one cavernous room to the next, taking in the well-ordered collection of chains, plastic thongs, straps and dildos.
Beyonce plays in the background, and no one speaks. I sneak out silently.
Empowerment factor 2/5
Sleaze factor 2/5
Haute Sex – Atsuko Kudo
This is a lovely latex shop, stocking the creme de la creme of designer attire – from elegant wrist-cuffs (handcuffs for ladies) going for 70 quid, to high-end bespoke corsets costing hundreds of pounds.
I feel like a princess in my boudoir, with cutesy pink armchairs and chiffon curtains taking me far away from my previous seedy sex shop-scapades.
A most empowering experience, though sadly one that is only available for women with pockets deep enough to afford it.
Empowerment factor 5/5
Sleaze factor 1/5
