Consumption, Desire and the Feminine Subject
2009; Springer International Publishing; Volume: 35; Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
0311-4198
Autores Tópico(s)Gender, Feminism, and Media
ResumoGet Your Pussy Into Venuss I knew about Venuss Envy long before entering its doors. I had seen the promotional cards on friends' fridges, tucked under invites and bills, given to women from women, with messages such as 'she reminded me of you'. These cards stole my gaze, the naked showgirls covered by feather fans, the logo of a miniature pink devil in heels, and those Sophia Loren types lying on tiger skins, keeping black cats at bay. Over the years, in various houses and many parties, I was drawn to these cards, these 'get your pussy into Venuss' cards, and now, here I am. Outside the shop looking in: French maid, dominatrix, Playboy bunny and nurse. A veil of pink chiffon blurs my vision, preventing a peek beyond these costumed mannequins, beyond the giant silk love heart upon which these women loll. I cup both sides of my face with my hands, pressing into the glass, trying to decipher the contents inside. It is too dark, like a dusk lit dimly by chandeliers. Unsure of what lies inside, and still something beckons. I remind myself that I am here on research, here to study a women's sex shop: a visual field of woman, sex and shopping. I am a researcher and yet something stirs and, with a turn of a smooth gold handle, I enter Venuss Envy already feeling like someone else. The entrance is thick with strands of glass beads and strings of crimson love hearts. I step around one string of love hearts, and another, and just as I begin to feel resentful, being called by something made inaccessible, Venuss opens itself and before me is a spill of lingerie, costume, and shiny things nesting in fur and feather. I circle a rack of ornate bras and my thigh brushes a mannequin reclining on a chaise longue; one eye covered by a white feather mask, the other by a pink boa. Here is a dinner table that is set with whip, silver push-up bra and half-price g-strings. A haughty figure kneels in the centre wearing seventies-style sunglasses, sheer black underwear and a gold scroll necklace that says foxy. Looking up, admiring this vision of woman, I trip over a hatbox, covered in old-fashioned paisley and brimming with French stockings and garter belts. I collect myself, I breathe deeply, and move again amongst the objects. My hands lead the way, touching every fibre that enters my path, every strap of smooth velvet, each tie of raw silk and every cup of foreign lace. I finger a passing feather boa and two bright blue feathers escape from their string and shimmy, shimmy down onto a white fur rug. Their fall seems pre-ordained and, in this moment, in these feathers, something happens. In this garden of silk and satin, fur and feather, desire wakes and I am no longer here to research, but to shop. In a passing spasm of shame, I look back to where I came but the window mannequins are thin shadows now and Brunswick Street a blur. like a giant camisole, a drape of chiffon filters the mundane and awashes Venuss in pink. Here, I am safe, cocooned in another time, another place. Like a harem tent, the walls are soft, the ceiling too. The ceiling billows with red satin, a plump red cushion, a flowering camellia, and with a glance the top becomes the bottom. In a glance, light bounces around, off gold-gilded cabinets, onto mirror, onto objects, onto me. Objects shimmer for me. In Venuss, in these objects, I am surrounded by love. In Venuss, I am love. Becoming woman In Venuss Envy, objects live in clusters, mimicking a scene of desire, a moment before sex, a spell after: Choc and Kahlua Heavenly Body Sauce, Open Crutch Panties (Australian made), kitten heels, a mauve dildo with a dolphin-shaped anus tickler, 'Sparkling, shimmering bath sand', 'the creative love player penis clip', tiger-print fur handcuffs, the card game Passion Play, Kama Sutra massage oil, a black diamante choker and a green sequin eye mask. I am a voyeur, spying into another's drawers, transgressing into another woman's private place, her boudoir or dressing room. …
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