"Because I'm a sex writer or whatever, people have started sending me lots of sex toys, wanting me to review their products. I generally try the toy once and immediately think 'this is stupid,' and then throw it behind my bed where it stays forever in what I now refer to as the 'vibrator graveyard.'"
"Vintage Playboys are way better because, like, before fake tits, fake tans, and landing strips."
"Is my hair okay?"
"Latex is great because it becomes like a second skin."
"This is a photo by my friend, the artist Matthew Stone. That's me with the tragic public hair. I have a 70's bush now—way more classy."
"This is one of my Slutever Vaj shirts. It's literally a picture of my crotch I had my roommate take."
Spotted in Slutever's it's-okay-because-it's-girl-mess mess: one torn 48 star American flag; crumpled back issues of the New Yorker; dirty underwear; vaginal lubricant; one ponyplay butt plug; one stuffed Eeyore; misc. dresses from Rainbow; and books, lots of books.
Cue the Sky Ferreira.
Here’s the best thing about the 21st century: you stumble across some work that you like; you find its creator’s website; you spend one fine, hungover weekday cruising their blog’s backlog, watching every episode of their Vice YouSeries, between tokes of the good stuff; you see that their e-mail address is right there so you message them, like, “Hey girl, Dig what you do. Wanna interview?” Fast forward two weeks and you’re in her bedroom, watching the topless wonder flipping through piles of dirty laundry in search of the right bra—I can only find my black one but does it show through this white shirt? Should I change my underwear? I’m, like, really into plain panties like these but—what do you think? Meet Karley Sciortino, aka Slutever, aka the Carrie Bradshaw we’ve all been waiting for (the bra comes off). This is her bedroom.
Photography by Dana DeCoursey