Obey icon necklace $76, 80s Purple.com

“See that chick in the front row?” I nudge my friend Lilly, leaning forward so my toes dip into tip of my croco-stamped pumps.

“Yeah?” Her eyebrows arch, brushing blond bangs.

“That’s the second cousin of the sister of an extra’s assistant from America’s Next Top Model, three seasons ago.”

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Super Bowl 1966 ring, Jostens.com

“I almost miss The Boy.” I put my lips to my latte, and the kiss of bitter espresso drowning in the soy milk is faint, like a memory of taste.

“Well, that’s understandable,” says Charlie. “You guys dated a long time, right?”

“Yeah, on and off,” I say. “He really became a part of my life. Of my blog.” I sigh. “I wrote about him a lot. People really liked the stories.”

“It’s tough when a relationship ends,” says Charlie.

The waiter comes and balances the bill on the edge of the table. “Mind if we split the tab?” I ask him. “I don’t want Charlie to feel any pressure to put out.”
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Jules Smith Designs earrings $98, Jules Smith Designs.com and Intermix

Little lips kiss your ears, mini mouths open to possibilities, whispering silver slivers of hope–

Since he’s already married, he won’t ask me to tie myself down for him outside of the bedroom, right?

Kiki de Montparnasse 24K handcuff and key necklace $175, KikiDM.com

A wedding ring’s a simple circle, a mostly empty symbol of a life rotating ’round another.

If I had to be tied down for a man, if I had to restrain myself to please someone else–

I’d prefer they did it with handcuffs.

Jade Jagger “Kiss” necklace $610, Net-a-Porter.com

A kiss shouldn’t be a PG peck on the pout, a stamp of lukewarm affection, a hellishly average hello.

A kiss should be a smear of passion, a pure gold payment for pleasure, a kiss should be like this boss Jade Jagger necklace: a big-ticket, rare expression of lust.

Though the necklace would look better as panties.

White Trash Charms necklace $938, White Trash Charms.com

so·cial slut [soh-shuh l sluht] noun. a person who is promiscuously nice.

Ex: He was as polite to a dumb housewife as he was to a hot whore; he tasted hamburger with the same relish as he ate filet mignon.

CC Skye “Celestial” ring $150, CC Skye.com

Sitting in the jacuzzi, I watch the steam bubble off the water black with night, the spa breathing puffs of gray floating towards golden city lights.

My seat in the hot tub is like a throne: the Los Angeles night is laid out for me, though the kingdom looks like a miniature of itself, like a smart cut of cardboard glittering with yesterday’s Christmas lights.

I watch a tiny car silently buzz along the coast, but even the automobile doesn’t scale the city for me: it all looks fake. “Can you believe that each of those lights is a home, is whole world into itself, full of people the center of their own universes?” I ask.

“You can’t see house lights from here,” says The Boy. “Those are all street lights.”

“Even way up in the Hollywood hills?” I look at a dark silhouette melting in the sky, a hump of land sunny days have shown to be a pricey mound of dirt littered with houses. The hills are freeways away, but I think if I stretch my hand far enough out of the steaming water I can grab them, and crumble their earth in my fist.

“Yeah,” says The Boy. “Look how equally spaced the lights are.”

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SURevolution leaf bracelet $285, Vivre.com

This new year, take organic matter and man-make it your own.

This new year, shape the world into tools for your own pleasure and profit.

This new year, resolve to bend reality to your will, to build yourself into the person you want to be, and–

Only bother with “green” when it refers to cash.

Happy New Year, lovelies.

XXXO,
K

“Tiffany” grenade charm bracelet $130, Elsewares.com

“Want to get a pizza?”

“Sure,” I say, without looking up at The Boy. I put down my MacBook, and check my reflection: my bobbed hair’s carefully disheveled, my lingerie romper a crisp black and white. I grab my iPhone and wallet, and– “I just have to get my shoes downstairs.”

“Don’t bother.” The Boy walks into one of his closets, and pushes the button to call the elevator. On the way out he tosses pink, Made-in-China flip-flops at me. The sandals rest on his Persian rug; I stare at them.

“No way am I wearing one of your ex-hoe’s shoes.” I wrinkle my face. “Especially when they’re flip-flops.”

“Just put them on,” he says. “You won’t even get out of the car.”

I tie tight my belted camel coat, rubbing my cheek against the fox fur collar. I finally slip on the rubber sandals. Over the elevator’s rumbling as it rises to our floor, I hear The Boy chuckling in the closet. “Oh, don’t come in here yet. I haven’t worn this in forever.” I hear some shuffling. “Okay, you can look.”

The Boy walks into his bedroom’s low light, and his Greek bust of a body is covered completely by a brown robe dusting the floor. The dirt-dyed fabric is shapeless, except for a peaked hood that swallows his white face into a shadow.

“From Saks?” I ask.

“Turkey,” he says, grinning. “It’s actually incredibly warm. I wore it on the plane home, and the other passengers looked worried, like I’d been praying to Allah.”

“Beautiful, Binnie,” I say. I hold the door open, following him into the elevator, almost like a meek wife. “Let’s roll.”
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Philip Crangi cross necklace $800, Barneys.com

XXXmas is over.

So eat from the tree of knowledge.

Build your heaven on earth.

Keep browsing the Bible, but remember:

Jesus hung with hookers.

Though I’m not sure he did with them what you did in Thailand.