Monday, June 22, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Of Shoes & Due Diligence
"Oh you see, but the problem is that I'd never wear Jimmy Choos to the club. They wouldn't last 10 mins in here." Sonia replied into my ear loudly over the Neyo flooding even louder now into the bar space. She was only half paying attention to me as the song caught her by surprise and she started doing a little semi-bop in front of me. After briefly closing her eyes and getting "jiggy wit it" she turned back to me as if awoken from a really great power nap, smiling and proud of herself. "I'm perfectly happy wearing Nine West shoes. As long as they're comfortable and besides, no one can really appreciate them in this lighting. We both looked down to her shoes again for what I think was the fifth time. I was beginning to really enjoy this.
When men compliment women on their shoes, there is a 50% chance they actually mean it. The other half of the time, they're just checking out the legs and subliminally making the women conscious of it. "Hey, I really like your heels..." another way of saying, "Hey, I'd love to lick your naked calves.. and it'd be A-OK if you kept those heels on, while I made my way to the top." Something along these lines anyway.
I complimented her on her shoes, and this gave me a launch into a discussion about heels vs platforms. And I noticed something important and new having a discussion about glossy heels versus shooting a passerby compliment.
Diving into a debate over heels, swooshes, or anything Dior brings two people closer. Once I've anchored myself to the bar and pulled her close, we need to be talking pretty intimately to exchange ideas, fighting the volume of the music. This means our heads are close proximity. When two people engaged in a conversation tip their heads forward, something magical happens.
Our faces fall into the sensitive hot zone between the lips and the collar bone. And this is the perfect excuse to release eye contact, granting full permission to visually roam her body without being rude - because, after all, it's the clothes you're checking out - even though both of us know it's grounds for a quick due diligence site visit to flavour country. So the body mapping ensues as follows:
1. Not only does it warm her up to the idea of having you in that space, but it also warms her up to the idea of being close to you, what it feels like to be safe in your arms, and let's be frank - everyone love the neck zone. It's phermone heaven.
2. From the shoulders looking down, you have a perfect depth of view starting from the cleavage to the tips of her toes. From here I could see very clearly the fullness of the breasts from the bra lines peaking through her full sequence dress. Keeping one hand around her waist guarantees she won't pull away too far. And a gentle squeeze gives me a brief and stealthy assessment of her real waist size. (Loose cami tops must be discounted immediately to guarantee better disclosure.) Sonia's a big boned girl, but she clearly works out and she's giving me a tight tummy as I turn her hips out to get a better view of the patent leather pink heels parading as Christian Louboutin's. In the mid-focal field, I could make out the muscle lines on her thighs, and while I'm not a big fan of big legs, hers were rather attractive and suited her fuller proportions nicely.
3. "They're very nice... lemme have a look at the heels," and with a gentle pull at the waist, Sonia doesn't resist and turns her hips slightly in, and voila - a full view of her booty. Round and delicious. I make a quick glance at the shoes as well and see a small metalic detail that acccents the stilletos nicely.
"Ooh. Nice hardware in the back." She smirks and swats my hand away turning back into the bar pretending to be indignant. I close in and speak close to her hear putting one hand across to the opposing hip. "What? I'm a big hardware on heels fan," in mock protest. She giggles.
The reality is, I really do notice shoes, and most of my team do as well. Half the time, they don't realize that they're looking at the shoe, but it's like anything shiny or sparkly - it's going to catch our eye, and it's going to draw us in. They're an even better reason to get up close and personal. With the summer circuit in full swing, it's nice to see all the leg action as we did this past weekend.
Oh yes, I'm a big fan of high heels. I know they pinch the toes, cut into the skin, and sprain the ball of your foot, but I assure you, they are worth every inch.
When men compliment women on their shoes, there is a 50% chance they actually mean it. The other half of the time, they're just checking out the legs and subliminally making the women conscious of it. "Hey, I really like your heels..." another way of saying, "Hey, I'd love to lick your naked calves.. and it'd be A-OK if you kept those heels on, while I made my way to the top." Something along these lines anyway.
I complimented her on her shoes, and this gave me a launch into a discussion about heels vs platforms. And I noticed something important and new having a discussion about glossy heels versus shooting a passerby compliment.
Diving into a debate over heels, swooshes, or anything Dior brings two people closer. Once I've anchored myself to the bar and pulled her close, we need to be talking pretty intimately to exchange ideas, fighting the volume of the music. This means our heads are close proximity. When two people engaged in a conversation tip their heads forward, something magical happens.
Our faces fall into the sensitive hot zone between the lips and the collar bone. And this is the perfect excuse to release eye contact, granting full permission to visually roam her body without being rude - because, after all, it's the clothes you're checking out - even though both of us know it's grounds for a quick due diligence site visit to flavour country. So the body mapping ensues as follows:
1. Not only does it warm her up to the idea of having you in that space, but it also warms her up to the idea of being close to you, what it feels like to be safe in your arms, and let's be frank - everyone love the neck zone. It's phermone heaven.
2. From the shoulders looking down, you have a perfect depth of view starting from the cleavage to the tips of her toes. From here I could see very clearly the fullness of the breasts from the bra lines peaking through her full sequence dress. Keeping one hand around her waist guarantees she won't pull away too far. And a gentle squeeze gives me a brief and stealthy assessment of her real waist size. (Loose cami tops must be discounted immediately to guarantee better disclosure.) Sonia's a big boned girl, but she clearly works out and she's giving me a tight tummy as I turn her hips out to get a better view of the patent leather pink heels parading as Christian Louboutin's. In the mid-focal field, I could make out the muscle lines on her thighs, and while I'm not a big fan of big legs, hers were rather attractive and suited her fuller proportions nicely.
3. "They're very nice... lemme have a look at the heels," and with a gentle pull at the waist, Sonia doesn't resist and turns her hips slightly in, and voila - a full view of her booty. Round and delicious. I make a quick glance at the shoes as well and see a small metalic detail that acccents the stilletos nicely.
"Ooh. Nice hardware in the back." She smirks and swats my hand away turning back into the bar pretending to be indignant. I close in and speak close to her hear putting one hand across to the opposing hip. "What? I'm a big hardware on heels fan," in mock protest. She giggles.
The reality is, I really do notice shoes, and most of my team do as well. Half the time, they don't realize that they're looking at the shoe, but it's like anything shiny or sparkly - it's going to catch our eye, and it's going to draw us in. They're an even better reason to get up close and personal. With the summer circuit in full swing, it's nice to see all the leg action as we did this past weekend.
Oh yes, I'm a big fan of high heels. I know they pinch the toes, cut into the skin, and sprain the ball of your foot, but I assure you, they are worth every inch.
Water sports
Prive, like most clubs, don't have toilets for men. They just allow the men to use the women's washroom if they need to yak or go for the number 2. And number 2 happens at clubs alot more often than people think, mainly for 2 reasons: 1. Clubbing comes after dinner, and most people have big meals on friday or saturday nights. You do the math. 2. Everyone gets a little nervous going out, it's a biological response. Our bodies know where doing something exciting and different so our bowels move. (It's like going to the strip club in college, I always really needed to take a dump before I went to Whiskey A-Go Go, because I was so nervous to see a hot naked women on stage - and I know alot of guys who were the same.)
Indeed, I've come to enjoy my number 2 at Prive, especially since it's, for the most part, much cleaner than clubs I've been to in the past (especially in college back in Toronto, like the Phoenix or the Joker- a time and places when and where open sewage was widely tolerated and too this very day is brought up frequently in third year Greek bathhouse architecture classes at UofT.) I also do prefer hitting the club early, so I can have some well needed chat time with my boys before they turn up the volume.
As for keeping the seat clean, I am a big subscriber to the diamond formation toilet paper treatment. I usually tear off four medium-length pieces of toilet paper, each approximately three squares, and lay them down in a diamond shape so that all the important angles on the seat are covered. What I don't understand, however, is how these seats get wet in the first place. All too often I will one of the first guys in the evening to get in one of the stalls, a women's stall. And I don't mean "drizzled" - I mean completely soaked. It's unnerving.
I like my nasty, but even after closing the door behind me, and turning around to see that kind of a mess gives me pause. One day, I gathered the nerve to ask a friend of mine. She explained that most girls just squat over the seat, some girls actually stand on the toilet and squat down (semi-mainland styles), and a only small population actually bother to clean it up. They do it sometimes together so that one girl can hold onto the other for balance.
After she told me this, my imagination went wild. Before, it was really a mystery to me and something I never gave much thought. Sometimes, I'd secretly hope that the men's washroom was full, so that I could wait in line and gaze at the talent coming in and out of the stalls. These really hot girls go in...and then they come out. They tease their hair up a bit, put on that bitch cold look on their faces for the boys looking in from the line, and that's it. What happens in between is something of beautiful myth. Maybe they have a little squirt, spray a bit of perfume, and then come out. Sometimes they go in together, and the guys - those of us waiting in line - we just assume they're in there snorting a few lines of coke followed by a brief but hot closet bi-sexual make out session. That's what they do, right?
Turns out they do that and more - they also get naked, kick themselves up into a frenzy, waterjet the walls, seats, and soda fountain each other - like it's Songkran in Samui. It's one big golden car wash in there! And it must be alot of fun, because by the time I get in there, the place is soaked in fluids.
There is also the slight possibility that a guy was in there earlier, and he was just peeing with the seat down. But I like my version better.
Indeed, I've come to enjoy my number 2 at Prive, especially since it's, for the most part, much cleaner than clubs I've been to in the past (especially in college back in Toronto, like the Phoenix or the Joker- a time and places when and where open sewage was widely tolerated and too this very day is brought up frequently in third year Greek bathhouse architecture classes at UofT.) I also do prefer hitting the club early, so I can have some well needed chat time with my boys before they turn up the volume.
As for keeping the seat clean, I am a big subscriber to the diamond formation toilet paper treatment. I usually tear off four medium-length pieces of toilet paper, each approximately three squares, and lay them down in a diamond shape so that all the important angles on the seat are covered. What I don't understand, however, is how these seats get wet in the first place. All too often I will one of the first guys in the evening to get in one of the stalls, a women's stall. And I don't mean "drizzled" - I mean completely soaked. It's unnerving.
I like my nasty, but even after closing the door behind me, and turning around to see that kind of a mess gives me pause. One day, I gathered the nerve to ask a friend of mine. She explained that most girls just squat over the seat, some girls actually stand on the toilet and squat down (semi-mainland styles), and a only small population actually bother to clean it up. They do it sometimes together so that one girl can hold onto the other for balance.
After she told me this, my imagination went wild. Before, it was really a mystery to me and something I never gave much thought. Sometimes, I'd secretly hope that the men's washroom was full, so that I could wait in line and gaze at the talent coming in and out of the stalls. These really hot girls go in...and then they come out. They tease their hair up a bit, put on that bitch cold look on their faces for the boys looking in from the line, and that's it. What happens in between is something of beautiful myth. Maybe they have a little squirt, spray a bit of perfume, and then come out. Sometimes they go in together, and the guys - those of us waiting in line - we just assume they're in there snorting a few lines of coke followed by a brief but hot closet bi-sexual make out session. That's what they do, right?
Turns out they do that and more - they also get naked, kick themselves up into a frenzy, waterjet the walls, seats, and soda fountain each other - like it's Songkran in Samui. It's one big golden car wash in there! And it must be alot of fun, because by the time I get in there, the place is soaked in fluids.
There is also the slight possibility that a guy was in there earlier, and he was just peeing with the seat down. But I like my version better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
