[Wearable Review] Xenia Frame Set by Twisted Lingerie

It’s happened, you guys. I am apparently a lingerie person now! It took me a while to get there, but I think I am learning the delights of dressing up (or down, as the case may be) in sexy garments and tapping into my inner sex-kitten.

A thin white model wearing a black strappy lingerie set and nipple pasties.

That’s why I was delighted when Sophie from Twisted Lingerie approached me to work with me. I already wrote a sponsored post for them last week, and they were kind enough to also offer me a set from their gorgeous bondage-inspired range to review. After much deliberation, and with some input from Mr CK, I chose the Xenia Frame set, pictured left.

A package wrapped in pink tissue and sealed with a 'Twisted Lingerie' sticker, and a note which says "Amy, can't wait to read the review. Sophie."

 

The set came discreetly packaged in a plain black box with no indication what was inside. (Which is good, because we were away on holiday and my mother-in-law intercepted the package)! Inside, the garments were beautifully wrapped in pink tissue paper, sealed with a ‘Twisted Lingerie’ sticker, and even with a lovely note from owner Sophie. Full marks for presentation! But how did the set itself shape up?

My first reaction, I admit, was “shit, how do I get into this?” But when you pause and look closely, it’s actually pretty simple to work out which bits go where!

What came next was a big surprise: I looked in the mirror and went “whoa! Well… hello!” at myself. Suffice to say I do not look like the gorgeous model on Twisted’s site, and I approached this style of lingerie with some trepidation, being a curvy girl with all my boy-hair intact. But as soon as I put it on and looked in the mirror, my inner confidence-meter hit the ceiling.

I love the way the bra frames and accentuates my breasts – which I have long considered one (two?) of my best feature(s). I love the way the straps cross over the butt (which to me is like a “spank here!” X-marks-the-spot). But most of all, I love how this shows off every inch of my curves. There’s no sucking in or hiding away here. It’s pure showing-off, “here is my everything framed for your viewing pleasure and fuck you if you don’t like it”.

This is power lingerie.

My Ratings (all scores out of 5★)

Price: ★★★★★
The Frame set is the cheapest in Twisted’s range of nine sets (you can also buy bras, knickers and suspenders as separates). It retails at the extraordinarily reasonable price of £35. (I should mention that the nipple pasties pictured on the model are NOT included with the set. This is made clear on the site.) Other sets range from £38 up to £79.

Appearance: ★★★★★
I adore everything in Twisted’s catalogue. I was super excited as soon as I started browsing when Sophie approached me. The aesthetic across this whole range is bondage-inspired, which I just find ridiculously hot, and it was the elegant-yet-sexy simplicity of the Frame set that drew me to it.

Materials: ★★★★
Well, there isn’t a lot of it, but that’s the idea! The pieces are made of a polyamide/elastane blend, which feels comfortable against the skin and has just the right amount of stretch.

Fit: ★★★★★
The pieces are true to size. I ordered a medium, which is listed as being equivalent to a UK 12-14, and it fits me beautifully at my current size 14. What I really love is that these garments are SUPER adjustable – more or less every single strap can be adjusted. This means if you lose or gain weight, you’re not going to size out of your item unless it’s a huge change. I could probably go up or down a dress-size and this set could be adjusted comfortably to fit. Also, what’s really cool is that even though it’s a set, you can order the two pieces in different sizes if necessary. So if you need large knickers but a medium bra? No problem, Twisted’s got you covered.

Overall Score: ★★★★★
The only complaint I have is that it’s too long until my next visit to the club! I want to wear this and smooch and fuck some hot babes, because it just makes me feel so damned sexy.

Do you agree? 😉

Thanks to Sophie at Twisted Lingerie for sponsoring last week’s post and for sending me this piece to review. All opinions are, and will always be, my own. Go buy your lingerie from Twisted, because they make gorgeous things and we should be supporting women’s small businesses.

Picture of model in lingerie is property of Twisted Lingerie and reproduced here with their permission. Other images are by me and must not be used without my express say-so.

 

I Won’t Apologise For My Body Any More

Those of us who are socialised as women are taught to hate our bodies more or less from the day we’re born. If you think I’m wrong, consider that someone thought this onesie for a baby girl was a good idea. Consider that pretty much every Disney movie ever holds up “pretty” (for the value of “pretty” that equates to thin, white, young, able bodied and virginal) as the most important thing a girl can be. Consider that 40% of 10-and-11-year-old girls think they need to lose weight.

A black and white anonymous art nude. For a post entitled I Will Not Apologise for my Body Any More

Make no mistake: self-loathing and body hatred is heaped upon us from infancy. Is there any wonder that so many of us make it to adulthood with a totally fucked up relationship with food, exercise, our bodies and our looks?

This stuff is so completely internalised and normalised that for most of us, becoming aware of it and then beginning to undo it is probably going to be a lifelong journey. We cannot love ourselves and cast off all our worries overnight. What we can do, though? What we can do, though, is stop apologising.

I will not apologise for my weight.

Spoiler for those who haven’t met me: I don’t weigh 90lb. A year and a half ago, I weighed double that number. I’ve since lost ~30lb, but that’s not what matters. I was an awesome badass with many great qualities then, and I am an awesome badass with many great qualities now.

Humans come in many shapes and sizes, and the idea that skinnier is automatically better is a great pile of steaming bullshit.

“Sorry, I used to be thinner and I’m trying to get back there” will never again fall out of my mouth when I take my clothes off in front of a lover.

I will not apologise for my scars.

My scars are part of me. They tell a story, and the ending of that story is fuck you, I survived.

If you ask nicely, I might tell you the stories behind each one. If you ask really nicely, I might even let you touch them. But don’t tell me they’re ugly, don’t pity me, don’t tell me I’d be so much prettier if only my skin were unblemished. I’m scarred because I’ve lived. Deal with it.

I will not apologise for my body hair.

If I had a pound for every person who has told me body hair is disgusting… well, I could probably quit my job and just write about sex on the internet for the rest of my life. Real talk time: body hair is natural. The notion that one must remove it all in order to be beautiful is entirely socially constructed. The idea that women must be hairless originated with razor companies trying to branch out into new markets. It’s literally the epitome of “convince us there’s something wrong with us, then sell us the cure.”

Never again will I sheepishly ask a sexual partner if they’re willing to overlook my natural hair and fuck me anyway. Never again will I apologise when someone asks me to shave it off and I tell them no.

I’m fucking beautiful and if my natural body bothers you, well… that seems like a you problem.

I will not apologise for my physical limitations.

I’m not an exercise-bunny and I’m not particularly physically strong. I have come to accept these things about myself. My body does most of the things I want it to do, most of the time.

I’ll take walks with you, but if you want a chick to scale mountains with? I’m not your girl. I’ll jog for the bus if I have to, but if you want a partner in marathons? Not me.

Similarly, my body has certain needs now, including the ones it didn’t have when I was younger. I won’t apologise for needing to sleep and no longer being able to run on fumes. I won’t apologise for needing you to maybe not fuck me as deep as you possibly can. That shit hurts. I am entitled to not be in pain.

I will not apologise for the ways my body experiences pleasure.

I’ve probably apologised thousands of times to lovers for how hard it can be to get me off, or for the fact that my body doesn’t always perform pleasure in the most reliable and/or visually appealing and/or ego-stroking manner.

I’m not going to fake an orgasm when you ineptly go down on me for three minutes.  I’m not going to apologise when I still don’t come when you go down on me expertly for half an hour. I’ll tell you what I like and don’t like, and I’ll react in a way that feels authentic. But I’m not going to apologise if it doesn’t work in the way you think it should.

I’m done apologising for my body. My body carries me through the world and gives me – and the people who are lucky enough to share in it – astonishing pleasure. My body fucking rocks.

Five Things I, a Swinger, Hate About the Swinging Scene

I consider myself a swinger, in that I’m in a committed Primary, living-together-as-married relationship wherein we have sex with other people outside of our relationship together. (We’re also polyamorous and form independent romantic/sexual relationships with other people – yes it is possible to be both, but that’s a topic for another day.)

A close up of a swing, for a post about the problems with the swinging scene

There are a lot of things I love about swinging – the opportunity to play with all different people with all different kinds of bodies, the voyeuristic fun of watching my partner playing with someone else, the exhibitionist joy of being watched, getting to indulge in different kinks and fetishes, the fact that swing clubs are more accessible to me in a variety of ways than ‘normal’ nightclubs ever were, the social aspect of meeting lots of new and interesting people, and much more.

But the longer I spend in the swinging scene, the more problems I see with it too – and that saddens me. Mr CK and me don’t intend to stop swinging any time soon, but we’ve certainly become choosier and choosier about the kinds of behaviour we’re willing to accept and the kind of venues and events we feel comfortable frequenting. So here are five things I see all too often in the swing scene which I do not love.

The racism.

I’m white. Mr CK is white. However, we’ve made a policy of blocking and not engaging in anyone who has any variation on “white people only!!” or “no blacks or Asians” on their swinger profile. (We are not looking for ally cookies here. This is basic fucking human decency, not some awesome selfless act of deigning to not fuck racists.) Our block list is ENORMOUS from this alone. Swinging has always been, and sadly still is, largely the realm of upper-Middle class white people. Unfortunately, huge swathes of this group seem to think it’s entirely reasonable to make a snap judgement on every single potential partner of certain races. It’s not “just a preference,” people. It’s racist.

The body shaming.

I keep my body hair fully natural and have done for a good couple of years at this point. My partners love it but, much more importantly, I love it. However, the number of people whose profile includes a line along the lines of “we’re clean shaven everywhere and expect the same” is astonishing. And it’s not just body hair – fat people, disabled people, men shorter than 6ft, men without big muscles, and non-gargantuan penises also get hate piled on them from people screaming “just a preference!!!!” all over their profiles. We block those people too. Are you surprised our pool is diminishing every time we log on?

The heteronormativity.

Holy shit, the heteronormativity! The assumption is that if you’re a swinger, you’re a cis person married to another cis person of the opposite binary gender. People who break this mold are few and far between, and often treated as some kind of exotic curiosity. Similarly, it’s often expected that women will play with other women, but only if their bisexuality is performed in a way that’s centred around men’s visual enjoyment. And as for the men? It’s still taboo at best to be a bisexual man in the mainstream swinging scene – some clubs even go as far as banning man-on-man action (we won’t go to those clubs.)

The vanilla-normativity.

At our first swing night, we asked about kink rules. The club owner, who knew us from fetish events we’d attended in the same venue, was hesitant. “Um, well, I guess light kink is probably okay. But don’t scare my regulars.” So, spanking? Floor-work bondage? Nope and nope. Turns out “light kink” translated to “sex that is maybe a tiny bit rougher than missionary-with-the-lights-out.” Okay then. When we did engage in a bit of rope play in a semi-private room at the same club, we gathered a crowd of sweet-but-clueless gawkers who thought they’d never seen anything quite so weird in their lives before. Obviously not everyone has to be kinky, and I understand vanilla swingers might not want blood being drawn in their nice clean clubs or bullwhips flying everywhere, but being treated like a sideshow because we like something a little different gets wearing really fast.

The toxic masculinity.

My above point about male bisexuality being taboo is relevant here – many of the men I meet through the swing scene are not just straight but aggressively straight – the idea of even being in proximity with another penis is terrifying and some couples even go as far as to say they won’t play with a man who has ever had sexual contact with another man. Bisexuality isn’t catching, y’all! But it’s more than just this. Comments about being/only wanting “a real man” abound. Aggressive hatred piled on men who cross-dress or otherwise don’t live up to masculine stereotypes. Excessive boasting about penis size and/or sexual prowess (honestly, I don’t care if you have a 12″ dick and love “eating pussy” (ew) if you can’t hold a conversation.) Borderline-rapey comments about “just knowing” what women want. It’s all there and it’s all gross.

Sometimes it makes us despair and makes us want to withdraw from the whole game for a while. But just occasionally, we do meet awesome, genuine people who are on the same wavelength as us, and then it feels more worth it. But the mainstream swinging scene still has a lot of growing up to do.

I want to keep slutting it around with lots of lovely sexy people and share these experiences with my partner, but we want something a bit… more body-positive. Queerer. Kinkier. Different. Even if it takes longer to meet our people and build our sexy little community.

Did you enjoy this post? You can help me out by buying me a coffee to say thanks! <3