when last you saw me, i was fleeing the shopaholics boutique in shame. BIG thank you btw to everyone who called that guy a douchebag and told me that they wouldn’t shop there! your support warms my black little heart. but onward… i still had like 20 minutes to burn before my dinner date, but needed to get my scorned ass out of there immediately. it just so happens that several of my sexiest lady friends were performing some burlesque at the recent sanctuary tattoo 10th anniversary party, and i thought it would be fun to get them saucy little good luck presents of some sort (which actually didn’t end up happening, but i did try!). but where does a girl go for saucy goods in this town that doesn’t also employ jizz moppers (i’m talking to you video expo) or carry bong parts (you too treasure chest)? the answer is nomia.
tucked up on the 2nd floor above a comfortable shoe store, you likely didn’t even know it was there (unless you’re in the habit of taking poorly lit stairways into the unknown). but you should, because nomia is a super amazing woman-owned shop with a femme-centric approach porno and sex toys. it’s white-glove clean, flatteringly lit, and laid out like a charming local bookstore- with the exception of the fact that the only genre is erotic. sure there are strap-ons and lube displays aplenty, but it’s very private (thus it’s 2nd floor location with no easily peepable windows), has women-only hours, and just feels comfortable, safe, and like a nice place to browse for all things rubber and vibrating. plus, they know what they’re talking about. there isn’t a question out there that will make them blush, and they’ve got resources and recommendations up yaz (pun intended).
i will spare both my mom and the other people who read my blog and actually have to look me in the eyes on occasion the details of what exactly i did or didn’t buy, but it’s irrelevant anyway. after my unceremonious dismissal from shopaholics boutique, it was so amazing to walk into a store that was warm, inviting, and cared about my needs. where the person behind the counter was more than happy to engage in a conversation with me, answer my questions, and even looked online for something i had asked about but they didn’t carry. and you know, i left that store with $22 worth of stuff i didn’t actually need (although i do firmly believe that good sex is an excellent investment), feeling good about my purchases and good about myself. my previous shame and anger had been equalized by good customer service. who knew? nomia FTW.