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#SEXXX: THE WORD OF SIN IS RESTRICTION

I had a very clear idea of what sexy was from a young age. It is an idea, not an image. It is vast. It ranges from north to south and back again.

It has no size, no creed, no social standing. It has no time or place or reason. 

It just is, in all its glory. You either are or you’re not. Once you are, you always are. I don’t make the rules. That’s just how it goes. A law of physics. Sexiness is a centralizing force. You know it when you see it, and they’re probably a Scorpio.

Female sexuality is liberation. Female sexuality is passionate ideal. Female sexiness is the expression of obsessive enrapture and desire in the here and the now, what we can take from it and how we can add to it. When analyzing both contemporary and historical texts of what sexiness is over the course of centuries, of eons, we see sexiness as the embodiment of the refusal of societal restraints. Sexuality does what it wants. It doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t dwell in the realm of passivity. 

A prime example of sexiness is our cover star Caroline Vreeland: the musician, the model, the actress, and the icon. The great granddaughter of legendary fashion editor Diane Vreeland. The genetics of goodness flow freely and they favor us all. The image of Caroline in a bath of spaghetti is engraved in my mind. The unabashed glamour of this woman… the shameless sexuality… It would be hovering on appalling if it weren’t so damn good. One quick Google search will yield hundreds of photos of her in string bikinis – mostly cascading out of them – holding a glass of wine, with her hair slicked back. You quickly get an idea of what is so special: It is her proclivity toward total enjoyment of her own self in her surroundings, regardless of who is watching, no matter who is blessed enough to be taking her photo.

Succubus. Muse. Blonde Babalon.

Caroline is approachable and untouchable. A total dichotomy of the casual girl-next-door with the screen starlet from days of yore. The theme of this issue was fun to play around with and conceptualize. All of our ideas on ‘what sexy is’ varied. The people we found sexy were far and wide, they all varied pretty drastically. There were drag queens and villains and heroines, nymphs and MILFs and athletes. There were the brazen, the cheeky, the fit and the fat. The waifs and the models. Politicians and comedians. Every single name mentioned? Unapologetic about their sexuality and the space they claim. The one person we kept collectively coming back to as a modern-day sex symbol, was Caroline Vreeland. She spoke to us in different ways: “I like her because she is an Amazon… one of those powerful giantesses… have you seen that Lana del Rey video?” “An Amazon? What are you talking about? I like her because she is a total Miami tomboy, her tits be damned.” “A tomboy?! She is a total Los Angeles glamor puss. Have you even seen her?” We battled this out. Things got personal. And we were all right. She is all of that and more. I think what we personally find sexy can be even more telling about ourselves than it is of the person we think embodies it.

How many of us are walking around sexy, and not know it? How many of us are the thing of fleeting fantasies, a remembrance of sweet things past, a nod to reverie, deserving of fanfare? Should we not walk around like this? Why would we ever choose not to live like this if we have the chance? 

I will say: If you decidedly think you are not sexy, you are not sexy. Not with that kind of attitude. It’s as simple as that. But we need not all be sexy. The sirens need their sailors; the goddesses, their devotees. 

I call on the Daughters of Blasphemy to rise up… to delight in your own routines and to have fun with your sexuality! I call on the Women clothed with the Sun to embrace your body and how it is right now (not then, not later). Let me remind the Women of the Apocalypse to realize that your flaws are your strengths and to highlight them accordingly.

If you do the things that make you feel best and you wear what makes you feel right, even if that means not wearing anything at all… then, you’re in the Vreeland camp, comprised of legends and myths and goddesses. And believe me when I say: It looks really good over here!

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