The Best You'll Ever Have (19 page)

Chapter 7

Who’s Afraid of Vibrator Shopping?
The words “sex toy” are off-putting to me. I immediately think of sleaze, deviance, and tastelessness. I may be a prude. Then again, sleaze may be what most Americans think when they hear “sex toy.” I didn’t feel comfortable with vibrators etcetera until recently. When I started Safina, which is fundamentally a sex toy business (although it is so much more), I owned only one very old and malfunctioning vibrator. My collection has since expanded.

Luckily, not everyone is as prudish as I am. I got my first glimpse at just how comfortable some of my contemporaries are on a sunny Saturday in June, about seven years ago. I’d just finished having brunch with a large group of friends, all in their mid-20s, my age at the time. As we shuffled out of the restaurant, Laura and I fell into step as we headed for the subway. I said I was going home. She announced that she was going vibrator shopping.

“What??” I sputtered. She was so matter-of-fact about it. It made me doubt I’d heard her correctly. My mouth fell open as she repeated herself.

“You’re going to do that right now?” I asked in astonishment. Somehow, the idea of vibrator shopping in broad daylight seemed daring, risky, and aberrant.

“No time like the present!” she announced.

“How do you even know where to go?” I wondered out loud, starting to feel embarrassed for myself for being so provincial.

Instead of answering me, she urged me to tag along. We came to a corner storefront in Greenwich Village with lots of paraphernalia in the window. Laura walked up to the man at the cash register and asked smoothly to handle a few items in the locked glass case behind him. I peppered her with questions. How do you know what you’re looking for? Which one works best? It costs how much? I must have sounded like a clueless child. She answered my questions matter-of-factly, as if we were handling kitchenware and not sexual appliances.

Despite Laura’s ease, I was uncomfortable in that store. The room was bright, true. The sun filtered in, casting light, leaving no dark creepy corners. The men who worked there were nicely dressed gay men. The other customers were people who seemed just like Laura and me. But I was a prude, as I mentioned. I couldn’t get over the wall-to-wall shrink-wrapped dismembered plastic penises. Vibrators were arranged in square plastic packs. Each one was endorsed with photos of the face (and other parts) of some porn star. These XXX women bulged out of their “clothes.” The grotesque balloon breasts disgusted me. From between waxy lips, they stuck out their tongues, as if ready to lick the vibrator they held in their red talon fingernailed hands. “Yuck” was the first and only thought I had about this packaging.

After ten minutes of browsing and trying to cool down an embarrassed blush, I started to numb. The shock effect was wearing off, and I stopped feeling nervous and awkward. The chocolate penis lollipops looked jerky and stupid instead of threatening, and I felt jerky and stupid being there. These items and the packaging were desperately trying to be funny and sexy, but all I got was tacky, scary, or sad.

Laura, meanwhile, was shopping in earnest. She didn’t seem to care about the pathetic attempt at humor and/or the depravity of the packaging as she searched for her next vibrator. She eventually chose an expensive Japanese vibrator that looked space age. It was smooth, white, not phallic-shaped at all, six inches long, a two inch wide tube capped in a flared red ball about three inches wide. A smooth, sleek tube, like one of the flares the ground control crews wave to guide planes to their gates. She was very pleased with it. I couldn’t imagine how it worked or why she liked it so much. We left (finally), and Laura said she was going home right now to try it out.

“Right now??” I asked, shocked again. It was still a beautiful summer day. I was going to Central Park with a book. She smiled and rushed off, and I started wondering what I was missing.

One of the great flaws of this business is that thousands of sex toys designed for women are sold in stores that most women wouldn’t dare walk into. Laura is exceptional. She has the balls, as it were, to walk in, suppress or ignore shame and shadiness, brave the bad part of town where these stores are often located, squint in the glaring theft-preventing lights, and gloss over the junky, ugly products and intimidating store staffers. Even the fat, lecherous-looking XXX store guys behind the counter reading porn magazines in typical sex toy stores don’t ruffle her. She is on a mission, and nothing stops her. Few women have as much confidence.

The Shop’s Vibe Sets the Tone

Flash forward three years. While living in Belgium working for an international ad agency, I spent many weekends exploring Europe. I went to France, Germany, Italy. Amsterdam was a two-hour train ride away, and I relished its museums and street life.

On one such weekend, I was still in the center of Amsterdam’s business district, but off the main streets, and I happened by a small store called Female and Partners. I couldn’t tell what it was from the outside, so I stuck my head in. A tall, attractive woman with a big smile said, “Come in! Welcome!” She was smiling big at me. I had to go in or be a rude, ugly American.

There was skimpy red and black underwear hanging behind her so I thought it might be a kind of Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie boutique, but then I looked around. Vibrators were everywhere. But there were no male customers or XXX women on the packaging. Maybe this is a lesbian store, I thought. The woman sensed how awkward I felt and took it upon herself to put me at ease. She showed me a few things. She was very friendly and normal. The vibrators and other things were all sitting out on tables. I tolerated her commentary as I walked around the small space, trying to be polite and sincerely wondering what all the products were and how they differed from each other. Then she said, “Why don’t you take a look at this wall. Let me know if you have any questions.”

She was giving me my space, and I appreciated it. I examined the shelves, stared at the mysterious objects, some phallic and some mere lumps of plastic that reminded me of children’s play-dough sculptures. I smiled at myself thinking how much Laura would like this place.

Then I saw a really attractive blue thing, six inches of blueness with trapped air bubbles inside that gave it dimension. It was a large oval shape that tapered off into two ripples that then curved into a rounded point about two inches wide. It wasn’t crass or weird. It was beautiful; it was art. I wanted to touch it and see what it was made out of. “That one won a design award this year,” the tall woman chimed from across the store. “It was made by a woman.”

“Really?” I asked, amazed that there were design awards for vibrators and very pleased to know there was a woman making them. That information was all I needed to get to a point where I could actually purchase it.

“You have good taste,” she said, as she wrapped my new award winning blue thing. “Expensive taste.”

Specifically, $175.00 taste. But I didn’t hesitate. If I were to buy a vibrator, any vibrator, it would have to be beautiful, an award winner, made by a woman, in cool, nonoffensive, space-age packaging. I felt like I’d joined the new century that hadn’t quite started yet, like I’d caught up to my era as an independent, modern woman. I was now a vibrator owner! And there wasn’t anything silly or stupid, sad or depraved about this blue thing.

I needed batteries, but quick. While guessing where I might get some in Amsterdam, I suddenly understood Laura’s “right now” excitement about buying that Japanese vibrator all those years ago. I shared her excitement, but not her taste. I needed a sophisticated, cool store environment. I needed to be in a place that was tasteful so that I could relax and consider the products. The packaging also mattered to me, and a beautiful design was the clincher. This blue thing had form
and
function. This was a shopping experience I’ve always looked back fondly on.

I’ve based the shopping concept at Safina on that Amsterdam experience. Vibrator shopping shouldn’t be any different than shoe shopping. A great shoe purchase will make you remember the experience of buying them. The store, the cute sales guy, the bargain you lucked into. A positive—nay, triumphant—shopping adventure can bring a smile to your lips weeks or years later. The memory of vibrator shopping at Female and Partners still makes me smile, and not just because a series of unforeseeable events on that one shopping day changed the course of my professional life.

A good vibrator shopping experience can change your life too, albeit in a less dramatic way. Take a minute now and separate your impressions of sex toy stores and bad packaging from the products themselves. Remove the sleaze from the stuff.

It’s not a sex toy. It’s an accessory for your lust life.

I don’t sell “sex toys.” I sell “Safina Sexories.” I prefer thinking of vibrators etcetera as “accessories for your lust life.” Referring to products that way is more cheerful. It’s fun. Sex toys—as I call the large category of products—should be thought of as cheerful and fun. They are, after all. And how!

As you can tell from my story, I understand how awkward it can be to be curious and interested in learning more. And we all need to learn more, despite the awkwardness. That first vibrator opened my eyes to just how deeply women need sexual pleasure and guaranteed satisfaction for an overall healthy happy life. I quit my advertising agency job and set out to restructure the sex toy market on the model of a market like cosmetics because I realized that women need orgasms more than they need makeup, skincare, and hair care. They need orgasms as much as they need exercise, healthy food, and plenty of rest. Sexual pleasure and satisfaction relieve stress and increase health. I’ve beaten this drum since chapter 1, as you know.

The salubriousness of sex toys, however, is only half of the Safina mission. Getting over the sleaze factor is the other half. Products have to be the best, most attractive ones out there, and they have to be presented in a high-end, aspirational fashion that delights the eyes, lifts one’s mood, and is luxurious and practical. With these ideas in mind, every Safina product comes wrapped in a shimmering, silky, custom-made, blue and silver bag. When you open your night table drawer, you’ll see these shiny blue bags sitting cheerfully like presents in a row (NEVER will a Safina Sexory arrive in sleazy, embarrassing porn star packaging). The bags are an inducement to reach inside them again and again. At least, that’s how it works for me.

An Overview of Sex Toys

There are thousands of products out there. It’s overwhelming to walk into any sex toy store and see such a selection. The task of selecting the best, most attractive, and functional products for Safina to sell was daunting indeed. To manage the job, I broke down the products we sell (not
only
toys) into the categories of vibrators, tush toys, tie me up/tie me down, lotions and potions, games, and books and videos.

GOOD VIBRATORS—FABULOUS

FEELINGS
Vibration—anywhere on the body—
feels exciting and relaxing at the same time. A
shiatsu chair in Sharper Image works the same
way as a battery-sized handheld vibrator, or vibe.
They both vibrate, but only one relieves stress
down to the core of your being, makes you come,
is affordable, and doesn’t take up half your living
room space.