Posts Tagged ‘Champagne

08
Jun
08

Ghost girls

If I needed anymore convincing women have radar, I got it in my inbox the day after I returned from a two-day “holidate.” An ex–my most recent–sent me an email, the first in over, well who’s counting.

It wasn’t much–in fact, the message wasn’t really anything, except perhaps to the overworked and fevered imagination. But it was a little uncanny, the timing. However, I’m not letting it throw me into the past. Instead, I’m flinging myself into the future. Watch out, future, here I come. 

The two days in California wine country earlier this week were heaven-sent. For 48 hours my date and I were treated like royalty; a massage, two fabulous dinners, a hot air balloon ride, breakfast in bed, a winery tour, and time by the pool. For people who had met only a month before, the patent agent and I got along like gangbusters. She was game for anything, and appreciated the resort experience even more than I did. I not only got to expose her to Sonoma but also to, via our suite’s TV, Nancy Grace, neither of which she’d seen before. My date was the first to want to open the bottle of Champagne in our room after the hot air balloon ride and she always knew where a bottle opener was, even though she lost her key card five minutes after entering the suite and later misplaced the remote control (maybe on purpose, after seeing Nancy Grace). And she seems to be one of those people who hears what she wants to hear–for instance, she misheard “binoculars” for “vernacular” while we talking to a cab driver and “cadet corps” for “esprit de corps” in a conversation with a couple of older lady Texans. This provided moments of amusement for yours truly.

I’m a little worried about one thing, though. She seems to prefer me drunk. She says that I’m “funnier and looser.” However, I fear this is one activity in my life where I need less encouragement, not more…

05
Jun
08

The Whole Arm Candy Role is Over-rated

I been thinkin’ on it a bit–well okay, I’ve been pondering on it nearly my entire adult life–and at last, at the ripe old age of 31, I’m going to tell you for certain: arm candy babes don’t have it as good as girls who can pay their own way. In fact, I’ll take that generalization and expand the scope to cover all women. Those who are dependent on someone else’s whims and bankbook just really don’t have as much fun as the sisters who, to quote my favorite buzz-cut ’80s rock icon of ambiguous sexuality, are “doin’ it for themselves”

They’re not as well-traveled either.

I came to this conclusion while in Cancun the past week for the launch of a new luxury resort development. There were many, many rich and powerful Latin American developers and businessmen–and closely following them, the requisite bevy of perfectly turned-out, rhinestone-belted, cleavage-sporting Latina babes.

I wasn’t at all surprised the girls were there…after all, what’s a party without gratuitous pretty women to act as floating arm candy? But here’s what shocked me: Though these girls live in Miami–an hour’s flight from Cancun–and I live across the continent, I’ve been to Cancun more often than they have. As we talked further, I learned that one girl–a Venezuelan–had never been to neighbor countries Chile or Argentina. To me, that’s like saying you’re from California but have never been to Hawaii or Vegas. It’s possible, but only if you’re singularly untraveled.

And this confused me greatly. Because…isn’t the whole POINT of being arm candy to wealthy men that you get to jet around and see all kinds of cool places and experience amazing things? Isn’t that one of the major perks?

The answer to this is YES, OSTENSIBLY. As a cute female, if you spend enough time surfing the online personals, or hanging out in wine bars in Los Angeles/San Francisco/Las Vegas/wherever, some man will invariably approach you with offers of travel and fancy meals and tickets to the opera.  That is how they reel you in. The thing is, they’re…not lying exactly, but grossly over-exaggerating. ‘Travel’ as arm candy means a trip to Vegas, or to Dallas/Chicago/other boring corporate hub… Caribbean or Cancun if you’re really lucky. And the whole time, you’re under pressure to sparkle and flirt and basically WORK IT… and you only eat, drink or have any fun at the whim of the man who brought you. 

Face it: Nobody wants to–or knows how to–spoil a girl as well as she knows how to spoil herself. Except maybe her best girlfriends or her sisters.

A man’ll buy you a pair of Wolford stockings and a teddy, and expect you to turn into a private porno pinup model in return. You can buy yourself a $300 Dirty Lingerie corset and wear it out clubbing, to a costume party, or  just keep it in your drawer to pet and fondle on rainy days.

A girlfriend will treat you to a spa day if she’s got the hookup, just because she thinks you need to relax. A man…well, one once offered a spa treatment, but it was in Vegas and I’d only just met him, so I politely said, Thanks, but that’s a little creepy.

A man will buy a bottle of champagne on a special occasion. For my sister’s bridal shower, the girls are buying a case.

I could go on and on. The point is this: The life of an arm candy girl seems sweet, and men always come with the big promises. But in actual fact, it’s a round-the-clock job where you don’t get much respect, and  usually don’t get a salary either (unless you’re a full fledged ‘sugar baby’ which is exponentially sketchier).

If you want to travel the world for real, splurge madly on lingerie for no reason, order $100 worth of sushi with no one questioning you, and really enjoy every moment, then girl, you gots to do it for yourself.

 

28
Nov
07

Kid in a candy store

Giovanna A at BloMeredith and JasmineOne of Vancouver’s sexiest success stories this past year is Blo. Located amidst a row of boutiques in condo-dominated Yaletown, the “blo-dry bar” (www.blomedry.com) offers a number of blow-dry styles under 30 minutes for busy socialites and party girls on the go. Last night, the small, sleek beauty parlour hosted a party for a group called Young Executives for Success. In layman’s terms, this meant the wingman and I got to mingle with about 50 women. What were we doing there? I’m still trying to figure that out. 

Breianne and the bloggerAnyway, it was all for a good cause—Y.E.S., as it’s known, is a social net-working group that also sponsors Dress for Success, an organization that helps prepare economically disadvantaged women return to the workforce. The evening also marked the unofficial launch of Back Bar Beauty Lounge (www.backbarbeautylounge.com), a new business billing itself as the city’s only “a la carte beauty lounge.” Groups (of women, presumably) can rent out the space and order pampering packages like “The Bender” (manicures, pedicures, hair and makeup) and “The All-Nighter” (“A special cocktail of services mixed just for you and your guests”).

 

Needless to say, the idea of being the only two guys (there were three others by my count, but they all worked there) in a roomful of women fried poor Wingy’s brainpan big-time. He couldn’t stop talking about it for days prior (“Can you believe we’re going to party with 50 women?”) to the day of (“Do you really think we’re going to be the only guys partying with 50 women?”) to afterwards (“You’ll never guess what we just did—we partied with 50 women!”). The phrase “kid in a candy store” pops into mind.

 

Anyway, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun, or that I didn’t take advantage of at least one of the services offered–including mini-manicures and makeup by staffers from neighbouring businesses Pure Nail Bar (www.purenailbar.com) and Beauty Mark (www.beautymark.ca)–by getting a “Bro blo” at the delicate hands of Breianne Z. (pictured). But it wasn’t all hair-fixing and Champagne-guzzling, no sir. Between complimenting women on their newly puffed-out locks (such as the “Bardot updo”, for instance, modeled here by Giovanna A.) and filling my flute I put on my journalistic hat long enough to learn a little more about Y.E.S. (www.yesvancouver.org) and Dress for Success from organizer Louise Weston

 

“We want to bring professional women together, to sip Champagne and get manicures and network, and help disadvantaged women,” she said. “Men get together to golf and talk business. But if women want to get their nails done and network, why shouldn’t they?”

Naturally, leaving was difficult, and it wasn’t until Breianne, Blo’s Val Litwin and other staffers and organizers started putting away the leftovers that we finally tore ourselves away. We caught the tail end of another social networking event at Metro (www.metrodining.ca), a somewhat-hard-to-find-but-worth-it downtown restaurant. There, we ran into French-restaurant chef Matthew Keebler and his leggy friend Janine (who knew resource mining software could be so hot?), and ended up at Six Acres (www.gastown.org/microsite/moons001). It was in this Gastown beer den/ bistro Wingy came through with the best line of the night. Still flapping his gums about Blo, he finally got around to asking, “So what was that event for, anyway?”




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