Nipple Tasseltastic

I have just finished reading the book; ‘The 52 Seductions’ by Betty Herbert.  Amazon Vine offered it to me, and I jumped at the chance. This was mainly because Betty, who is a blogger herself, kindly offered me some invaluable insights into the world of vajazzling when I was lost and bewildered amongst a sea of Swarovski crystals and balding pudendas.

In case you are also lost and bewildered, you can read about it here.

Anyway, the book centres around Betty’s relationship with her husband Herbert, and her desire to put some of the va va voom back into their marriage. Each week they take turns in seducing each other, with varying degrees of success.

The book is not what you might think. It is complex, touching, funny, intimate and at times quite heart breaking. It is as much about developing intimacy and freedom within a relationship as it is about knobbing and ticking off must haves in the Anne Summers’ Catalogue.  I highly recommend it.

I admire Betty and Herbert for their courage in undertaking what could have been a potentially disastrous journey into the unknown. I also admire the candour with which she discusses her sexuality.  Bear in mind that this was a blog before it was a book, and it had a substantial readership before publication.  You have to have some nerve to allow yourself to be that vulnerable in public, even if the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

I would never do it.  I am far too tightly wound and British when it comes to things like that. I consider undoing the top button of my coat to be a bit come hither, and I never go to bed in anything less than a full body suit, balaclava and mittens, due to being freezing cold ALL THE TIME.

Nakedness, in my opinion, is reserved for Johnny Depp (I wish), and foreigners.

There’s nothing wrong with either of them, but I don’t have to join in.

Anarchy might ensue.

And now, and now, the seams are already unravelling.

After having read the book I got to thinking, which is always quite dangerous, especially if you’re me.  Then I was chatting to a virtual friend on Face Book. We are in the same interest group. The conversation, which, as you might expect, was about pottery, then took a turn, as conversations do.  One minute we were chatting about jugs (see what I did there?), the next we were talking about nipple tassels.

I remarked that I had once read up on the method you should use to get your tassels swinging, and I’d always been intrigued to give it a go.  She said I should. I would not regret it she said.  It turns out that she is doing burlesque classes, and that not only does she know how to twirl her tassels, but that later in the course she will be making her own tassels.

I was, as you can imagine, hugely impressed.  I have thought about making my own tassels and having a quick twirl.  I really did not want to rock up at Anne Summers’ to buy some.  I usually have three small children in tow, one of whom’s motto is: ‘Everyone needs a bosom for a pillow’.  It would not be the most relaxing consumer experience.  I imagined going to somewhere less erotically charged, like John Lewis haberdashery department (although who am I to say what goes on with the tape measure when the closed sign goes up?), buying some of those tassels that organised people use to tie back their curtains, and doing some DIY with some sticky backed plastic and a glue gun.

Given the varying levels of success my creative endeavours have had over the years, I have, wisely I think, decided to give it a wide berth in the end.  My mother would not be able to drive the car straight if I had to ring her to take me to A&E with a maroon curtain tie back welded to my nipple, and we would undoubtedly crash and die horribly and embarrassingly.

Another friend, who was party to this discussion, pointed out that Ebay is a marvellous thing if you wish to shop with any degree of anonymity.

So, this evening I have browsed the virtual shelves to find out what the world of nipple tassels has to offer.

As you might expect from a woman with expensive tastes, even if I don’t have the pocket to accommodate them, I decided to look at Coco de Mer’s offerings first.  Coco de Mer is like the Liberty of sex shops.  If you want a hand carved, walnut shafted dildo that plays Einer Kleiner Nacht Music courtesy of a trained ant playing a harpsichord that lives in a miniature boudoir in the centre of the sex toy of your choice, Coco de Mer is where you go.

Sadly, their offerings in the nipple tassel department were decidedly under par.  They were, in fact, utterly pedestrian.  I was rather hoping for butterflies in mid flap with rotating proboscis and animatronic feelers, but no, it’s just your bog standard sequins and tassel arrangement.

I looked on E Bay.  This was slightly better. I cannot say that they were tasteful, for that would be an out and out lie, but they were plentiful and cheap, and as I’m only buying them because I’m a nosey cow and I think I need a new skill to put on my C.V. just in case we do get to Canada some time this century, I decided beggars can’t be choosers.

I bought a pair. I confess that I was tempted by the pair that were entitled; ‘Urban Camouflage’.  I wanted to know if I put them on if I would seamlessly blend into pavements and that gap between Bargain Booze and Lidl.  I’ve never seen Dita von Teese in an urban environment near me.  This could be why.  The cunning application of urban camouflage nipple tassels.

They also had a pair of tassels that came with matching knickers.  These had a large tassel dangling from the lady garden area of the pantage.  I thought about these, as pants and tassels were more of a bargain than tassels alone, and what if I find I really love it, and want tassels everywhere? I will have regretted not buying the pants then won’t I? Especially if I want to go out wearing them with my leather tasselled biker jacket and Australian hat with corks on strings round it to complete the perfect look.  A girl always has to think about accessorising.

Then I thought about the fact that probably you would be required to swing your lady garden tassel as well as your nipple tassels, and if you are only a novice like me you could easily end up crossing your tassels, and as in Ghostbusters, this is probably a very bad idea.  I think lady garden tassels are a whole other lesson, and nobody ever passed on any handy hints on how to swing my pants.  I decided to make do with rotating nipples on their own.

Less is more.

In the end I decided to just go for sparkly black pasties, as I believe they are called, with black silk tassels dangling from them.  I really am not comfortable with the word pasties.  It makes me think of these:

which are not erotically charged objects at all, well not unless you’re Simple Simon anyway.  Or the man who runs Greggs.

My tassels should be winging their way to me under cover of brown paper in the next few days.

I rang Jason to tell him not to faint when he got his Ebay bill.  It is not the cost (£3.95 with free postage. A steal), more the fact that it is his account and he should be warned in case awkward questions ensue.  A husband fully informed of nipple tasselage is bound to be much calmer than a husband for whom nipple tasselage comes as a surprise.  It is one of the rules I live by, and it’s always worked for me.

He laughed uproariously. In fact he laughed so hard he nearly fell over his fake sword and his Orc ears melted.  I am ironically amused that he finds the thought of me dressing up (or rather down), so very entertaining. I am wondering as I prance about the bedroom, tassels swinging like knives on my chariot wheels, as to whether I should make him wear his orcing outfit.

Quid pro quo Clarice.

So some time next week it will be me:

my tassels:

and an industrial quantity of tit tape.

Does it stick to polo necks do you think?