Notes On: Returning to the Classics
I like to consider myself a modern woman. It would be hard to otherwise, considering my credentials of being a polyamorous, sexually, liberated feminist. That’s quite a lot of contemporary strings to have in one’s bow. Not to mention the tattoos, piercings, undercut, armpit hair, shitposting on Twitter… you get the drill, I’m no wallflower, and I’m not interested in expectations that are meant to coddle me into submission. I am hardly a 50’s housewife (although, this would be an extremely hot roleplay, a scene I shall be reserving for post-lockdown trysts). I form connections most easily to those with an open mind and heart; for those who want to play with societal expectations and norms, for those who want a woman sat across from them who not only meet their gaze, but hold it. Likewise, I believe that behaviours that were once explained away as chivalrous, or traditional, were actually in fact downright bad behaviour.
But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater, shall we? Can we keep those elements of chivalry and classic romance that really do bring us joy? Must I melt my red lipsticks into wax and eschew the feeling of lace across my skin to be taken seriously? Do I have to insist on paying half for dinner simply to perform the societal norm that the ‘modern’ woman pays half? In fact, do I even want the respect of those who consider my femininity a flaw, or something I have to justify? Femininity is not frivolous, nor meek; softness is not a flaw, nor subservient to hardness. I like to wrap my lovers up in an embrace, hold space for intimacy, in what could be considered a classical way.
For example, appreciating gifts doesn’t make me a gold-digger. Gift exchange has existed throughout the ages, as a way of creating a material connection to others*; ‘the gift’ has been tackled by countless philosophers, trying to understand the meanings behind such social behaviour. I say, let me enjoy my Bordelle gift package in peace (alongside the patron, of course). Further to this, paying for intimacy doesn't make it cheap. I enjoy a financial commitment – a contribution that indicates to me that my time is valued by a suitor (Jessa Jones wrote a brilliant thread on Twitter about this).
I want to feel the rush of anticipation as I step into lingerie for you, hiding it away under a smart-casual outfit for later's reveal; when I feel my blow-dried and styled hair brush against my lower back, when I paint my lips red and press perfume into my neck, I smile. I smile at the time it takes me to get ready for a date, for the little details that turn moments into memories. I love the effort you put in, too; the time away from the rest of your life, the research you have done into finding out if we are a good match (which of course requires a visual diary subscription and a heavy peruse at my Twitter), your pre-date email (‘Still on? Can’t wait to see you’ messages make my stomach flutter with excitement).
The images of me in one of the most classic boudoir looks you can get make me yearn for some classic romance. Spark it: hold the door open for me, take me to your favourite bar hidden away in the city, invest in the investment that an authentic connection requires. In this modern world, I want my cake - and I want to eat it too. Don’t you?
* For scholarly recommendations into the purpose of gift exchange, I’d recommend Marcel Mauss, The Gift as starters.