‘Sex Dust’ is the Weird Supplement You Need This Valentine’s Day

Sex Dust also contains organic epimedium, AKA horny goat weed, the hilariously-named herb available in pill form that Bacon says “has been used for thousands of years to help balance hormones and bring warmth to the pelvic region.” Lusty!

So what exactly do you do with this suff? Bacon is a former chef, so Moon Juice’s site helpfully contains tons of recipes for making Sex Dust snacks (which I can only assume would make you the office hero). Being a low-maintenance (read: lazy) gal, I mixed a teaspoon into my morning coffee. It mixed pretty well and gave my coffee a toasty, slightly sweet chocolate flavor, with a mushroom-y musk to it. It was surprisingly pleasant.

A few sips in and I was no glowing Aphrodite. What gives?! But a couple hours later, I realized a proposal for a big copywriting project I was working on was suddenly flowing weirdly well. I sped on from that to phone interviews with potential assistants for my startup, a task I’d usually find draining as an introvert, but which left me oddly energized.

Now normally, after crossing two entire things off my to-do list, I’d treat myself to a “deserved” hour of aimless reading on the internet, or an Instagram hole, or honestly, I might just say “effit” and log off for the day. (Gotta love that freelance life.) Instead, I felt inspired to work on the creative direction for an upcoming photoshoot I’m producing. “I’M SCARED OF YOU,” my business partner texted me when I emailed her a meticulously-organized mood board, shot list, call sheet, and schedule at 2 a.m.

I went to bed that night after a 14-hour work day, feeling like I could have gone longer. Whomst am I, I wondered? Was it the Sex Dust igniting my creative energy?

For the next couple days, I downed Sex Dust coffee each morning, and worked more bizarrely productive 12- to 16-hour days, crossing a ton of crap off my permanently anxiety-inducing to-do list. As someone who is super-easily overwhelmed and would rather be napping at all times, I cannot stress how unusual it is for me to achieve this level of productivity at all, much less multiple days in a row.

By day four, I was thoroughly spooked by the unusual burst of focus and productivity I’d experienced—but below-the-brain benefits were harder to sense. I’d definitely noticed my mood felt lighter—perhaps the result of the cacao, which Bacon says “releases endorphins.” But I felt no libidinous effects, nor the “pelvic warming” or “juiciness” I’d been promised. So I decided to take the Sex Dust on the road, meeting up with a friend to go to on what she calls a “cutie run”—dinner and a trip to the bar to chill, look cute, dance, and maybe meet boys.

About an hour into our cutie run, she turned to me in frustration: “I feel invisible—like all the guys are smiling at you!” she yelled over the music. Not gonna lie, I noticed it too. The horny goat weed must be working! Of course it wasn’t every dude. But it definitely felt like people were, to put it scientifically, digging my vibe. Our waitress was unusually friendly. One guy waved from across the room. Another made a lame excuse to talk to me in the bathroom line. On the street, another literally said: “You’re nice, I like you.”

Of course, I can’t say for sure if my renewed mojo was the Sex Dust, or some other factor. Was I just in a good mood? Excited to see my friend? Were all the men on the Lower East Side slipped $20 and told to flirt with me? We may never know.

Shrill Trailer: Watch Aidy Bryant Take on Fat-Shamers

Stop what you’re doing, people: Hulu just dropped a new trailer for its upcoming series Shrill, based on the popular book by Lindy West. The six-episode series stars Aidy Bryant as Annie, a plus-size writer trying to navigate life amidst fat-shaming strangers and passive-aggressive relatives. Her world opens, though, when she attends a body-positive event called the “Fat Babe Pool Party.” It’s there where Annie gains the confidence to live life on her own terms—regardless of what people think.

Before the party, Annie is stuck in a rut. She’s hooking up with a guy who makes her leave his house through the backdoor; she’s an assistant calendar editor at a publication but dreams of writing feature stories; and she’s following a diet called the “Thin Menu,” which has her subsisting on pale, unappetizing pancakes (if you can even call them that) and a handful of almonds every few hours.

But there’s a shift after Annie attends the “Fat Babe Pool Party.” She demands more respect from that aforementioned hookup, starts loving her body more, and gets ahead at work by self-publishing a story about body image, which eventually goes viral. (But at a cost: The article makes her the target of a fat-shaming troll, who leaves her disparaging messages in a sea of positive comments. Been there, girl.)

Watch the full first trailer for yourself, below:

Luka Jones, Lolly Adefope, John Cameron Mitchell, and Julia Sweeney star alongside Bryant in Shrill. Here’s the official synopsis from Hulu: “A fat young woman who wants to change her life — but not her body. Annie is trying to start her career while juggling bad boyfriends, a sick parent, and a perfectionist boss.”

The series is executive produced by Elizabeth Banks and Lorne Michaels and features Lindy West as a writer and producer. All six episodes will debut March 15 on Hulu.

The Hustle Trailer: Watch Anne Hathaway and Rebel Wilson Hilariously Scam Men

In The Hustle, two badass women are all it takes to scam men out of millions (if not billions) of dollars.

Thanks to Anna Delvey, who notoriously grifted her way through SoHo (and ended up inspiring not one but two competing TV shows about her con) and the entire Fyre Festival fiasco, the word “scammer” has been on the tip of everyone’s tongues for at least two years now. Of course, Hollywood has followed suit and made a blockbuster for our times with The Hustle.

In this adaptation of Frank Oz’s 1988 film Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, which starred Steve Martin and Michael Caine, it appears that Rebel Wilson has met her match in Anne Hathaway. Hathaway plays a seasoned scammer who teaches Wilson “her sugar baby ways,” which include performative vulnerability, knife-throwing skills, and blending in with one’s surroundings. This is all so they can work together to swindle a young tech dynamo (played by Alex Sharp) out of his millions (or possibly billions, as Wilson points out). Why shake down so many rich men out of jewels and money, you ask? The answer is simple: because they can. Do you need a better reason than that?

“Why are women better suited for the con than men?” Hathaway asks in the movie. “Because no man will ever believe a woman is smarter than he is.”

Hathaway is no-doubt bringing her Ocean’s 8–honed heist chops to The Hustle (she was the best part of that movie, and I won’t be challenged), while Wilson delivers the riotous physical comedy she’s known for in movies like Pitch Perfect and the recently-released romantic comedy Isn’t It Romantic.

Check out the full trailer for The Hustle, below:

It looks like scammer season has just been extended to May 10, 2019, which is when The Hustle hits theaters nationwide.

Kim Kardashian Shared a Super Relatable Photo of Her Psoriasis Flare-Up

Kim Kardashian has been quite open about her battle with psoriasis, and she continued that transparency on Instagram last night. The beauty mogul posted three deeply relatable photos of her psoriasis flare-ups, and fans are praising her for it.

“Psoriasis is the shits,” Kardashian captioned one selfie, which shows her flare-ups covered in an herbal healing ointment. She shared a second photo to show her followers how she’s treating the issue, and a third of the flare-ups on her legs, which she jokingly captioned, “Sexy.”

Psoriasis, for the unfamiliar, is a condition in which skin cells build up and form scaly, itchy dry patches on your body. They often show up as red, itchy spots and they can pop up anywhere where you have skin (so that includes your scalp, eyelids, knees, face, you name it). According to statistics from the National Psoriasis Foundation, around 8 million people in the U.S. have psoriasis, and it has a greater impact on quality of life in women—especially because trying to cover it with makeup is difficult and treatment can be costly.

Check out Kardashian’s selfies for yourself, below.

And here’s the snap of her leg:

“I actually really appreciate that Kim Kardashian talks about her psoriasis so publicly. It makes me feel loads better about it,” one fan wrote praising the reality star for her recent uploads. “You know what I applaud Kim K for speaking openly & showing her psoriasis. She gets so much shit from people about this & that but that’s something I really appreciate about her,” wrote another.

And there are more positive tweets where these came from. Here are just a few people commending Kardashian for her candor about psoriasis:

Just last week Kardashian had to shut down a tabloid for calling one of her psoriasis flare-ups a “bad skin day.” “It’s psoriasis all over my face,” she tweeted in response to an article from The Daily Mail.

“Sometimes the rashes are itchy, sometimes they’re flaky,” Kardashian wrote on her app in 2016 about living with psoriasis. “Mine flares up from time to time for different reasons…Scientists are constantly researching and developing new medications to help treat it, but for now, I use a topical cortisone ointment every night before bed. I’m always hoping for a cure, of course, but in the meantime, I’m learning to just accept it as part of who I am.”

Paid Family Leave Would Change Working Women’s Lives. Could a New Bill Make It Happen?

Senator Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.), who’s a little less than a month in her presidential run, and Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.) plan to reintroduce the Family and Medical Insurance Leave (FAMILY) Act on Tuesday—a bill that would create a national program to provide up to 12 weeks of partially paid time off for workers dealing with either their own health (including childbirth and recovery) or the health concerns of a child, spouse, parent, or domestic partner. Workers would be able to earn up to 66 percent of their wages up to a capped amount, and it would be funded by a small payroll tax (two-tenths of one percent) paid by employers and employees

Thanks to the new class of Democratic representatives, there’s a chance the bill will in fact pass the House of Representatives this time around. (Gillibrand and DeLauro first put forth the bill in 2013.) “There is very serious momentum,” DeLauro told the Huffington Post. “We’ve got a new Congress, we’ve got the largest majority of women and young people.” For the bill to pass the Senate, however, Republicans would need to join Democrats, an uphill climb.

Still, the bill is better positioned to attract bipartisan support than ever. Because in 2019 it’s not just Democrats who committed to paid leave. You may remember that in his 2017 speech to a joint session of Congress, Donald Trump said, “My administration wants to work with members of both parties to make child care accessible and affordable, to help ensure new parents that they have paid family leave.” And the issue is one Trump’s daughter and senior advisor Ivanka Trump has championed, albeit with a mixed reception from advocates. She is also reportedly working on a plan of her own with Senator Marco Rubio (R-Fla.)

DeLauro described family leave as now being at the “center of the debate, rather than the fringes.” HuffPost reports that 29 percent of candidates in 2018 made paid family leave a part of their campaign platforms, up from 4 percent in 2014.

The hope is all this conversation will lead to actual forward momentum on an issue so vital to American workers, but one that has remained unchanged at the federal level since the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA) passed in 1993.

10 Handbag Brands to Know (and Shop) in 2019

Bags have always been one of the most fun fashion items to shop for—not just because there’s always a need for them, but also because there are so many unique options out there. From minis to carry-alls, there’s a handbag out there that fits your wardrobe and your lifestyle. And because it’s something you wear on the daily, you can justify spending a little bit more on a style that can withstand anything (and that you can fill to the brim.) The Louis Vuitton Neverfulls and Gucci Marmonts will always be popular—and for a reason!—but why not carry something new, fresh, and a little but more under the radar? New handbag brands like the industry-beloved Wandler, the street style-favorite Alfeya Valrina, and the celebrity stalwart Pop & Suki are changing the accessories market with their new takes on classic shapes and making it that much more exciting to shop. Get to know these designers, from all over the world, that are sure to become household names soon.

How Tinder Killed the Crush – Ode to the Crush

Your first crush is a rite of passage. The fixations that follow it are just life. Nervous, awkward, sublime. Disasturous. Transcendent. Here, we celebrate infatuations, obsessions, and passions in all their exquisite splendor. Meet our “It’s Just a Little Crush” series. Isn’t she divine?

I’ve decided to delete Tinder from my phone again, again.

To do it I have to hold down the icon of the app, then tap the little X to get it off my iPhone. Like all apps, the square does a little wiggle when the X pops up. The animation is more or less innocuous, but when it comes to Tinder that little wiggle is a taunt. You’ll be back, wiggle wiggle, I won’t stay gone for long, wiggle wiggle, you’ll get lonely and want to see if you can find someone who’s wiggle “fluent in sarcasm” wiggle.

For about five years, my relationship with Tinder has been more on-and-off than any of my (several) less-than-stable romantic relationships. But then, romantic relationships take discipline and commitment and time. The better metaphor for Tinder is addiction. Tinder is accessible when I’m at my lowest and gives me a temporary burst of dopamine and distraction, but never more.

And like an addiction, it’s robbed me of at least one of life’s purest pleasures. A million people and articles can explain how Tinder has ruined courtship—and even hook-up culture. But its truest victim is the single element that makes flirtation fun. Tinder killed the crush.

You might think that Tinder would be a crush paradise. After all, crushes are all about instinctual attraction, and what’s more instinctual than evaluating someone’s picture and swiping left or right based on your gut reaction (plus, learning they’re 6’1”, INTJ, and, from the looks of their picture, were once were on a boat). Tinder should fulfill the smartphone promise, making our lives quicker and easier. I’m able to order a pizza and ride in a stranger’s car at the touch of a button. When I’m lonely and bored, I should be able to materialize a crush—someone to joyfully obsess over with all of the hope of someone who thinks she’s found The One.

But see, that smartphone modus operandi (speed! convenience!) runs counter to how human connection works.

Part of the problem is after swiping on Tinder for a few hours (let alone days or weeks), potential partners become almost interchangeable. To the shrewd, practiced swiper, a mere glance at a profile picture is enough to know whether that person merits a right or left swipe. Glasses, right. Dog, right. Fish, left. Mirror selfie, left. Red hat, left. Even when you’re intrigued enough to click for more information on someone, everyone blurs together into a single amorphous Jim looking for his Pam. Far from being fun, early “getting to know each other” conversations quickly become a chore. Our attraction to a person in the real world is based on their smell, the sound of their voice, the things they laugh at. On Tinder, people are just cardboard cutouts. Every time I succumb to it, I find myself using the same trite questions and giving the same trite answers. It’s rare that I ever give someone my phone number to propel the conversation to text. It was even rarer to feel a connection so undeniable that it’s propelled us into the real world. It’s hard to get butterflies about someone who’s just a two-dimensional face in your screen, one of 25 guys saying “hey, how’s ur weekend looking?”

Now a crush. A crush is magnificent. After the “we’re comfortable enough to finally just wear pajamas and order in” stage, it’s the best part of a relationship, when each text notification sends a shiver of excitement through your entire body and you post selfies to your Instagram story just to see if they’ll see them. Yes, it’s also a stage of paranoia (who is that girl in that Facebook picture from 2011???) and misery in the minutes waiting for the response to a risky text, but that exquisite pain just heightens the euphoria when he does text back and when you find out that girl from 2011 was actually just his sister all along.

The one time I ever remember feeling something akin to a crush on someone I saw on an app, it was because I recognized him from Twitter. Without external context, he would have been completely inscrutable. In all likelihood if I hadn’t known he was hilarious and liked the same movies I did from his tweets, I would have swiped left. (Although, in all fairness, maybe I should have. We went out for three months then he dumped me via text.)

Tinder is transactional and gamified. The swipe is a slot machine. It entices you to go for one more swipe and then one more—just to see what else is out there. But no one can match up against the prospect of all the other single people in the world—plus the ones who exist in your imagination. It’s the same mentality that keeps people glued to the slots in Vegas casinos: The next swipe could be the jackpot!

But perhaps the biggest problem with Tinder is also how it sold itself to us: You only match with people whom you know are interested in you. (Or at least interested enough.)

The pleasure of the crush is in how it starts, the uncertainty of it. A crush is a challenge—and a terrifying risk. The not-knowing part, the time when you have no idea how the other person feels about you is about 80 percent of the sensation we describe as butterflies.

It’s exhilarating, miserable, torturous, and ecstatic, the stuff of sending a flirty text that you outsourced to your entire group chat. That tension doesn’t exist on Tinder—where you only end up in conversation with someone once you’ve established mutual attraction. That other person at least wants to meet up, if only just to hook up. And that happens after you’ve waded through throngs of fuckboys and randos.

If you’re looking to meet someone in real life but still want the expediency of the internet, I recommend a good, old-fashioned Twitter DM slide. A little audacious! Full of anticipation! But same rule applies for bathroom mirror selfies: If that’s their profile pic, metaphorically swipe left.

Dana Schwartz is the author of the memoir Choose Your Own Disaster. Follow her on Twitter @DanaSchwartzzz.

How Tinder Killed the Crush: An Ode to the Crush

Your first crush is a rite of passage. The fixations that follow it are just life. Nervous, awkward, sublime. Disastrous. Transcendent. Here, we celebrate infatuations, obsessions, and passions in all their exquisite splendor. Meet our “It’s Just a Little Crush” series. Isn’t she divine?

I’ve decided to delete Tinder from my phone again, again.

To do it I have to hold down the icon of the app, then tap the little X to get it off my iPhone. Like all apps, the square does a little wiggle when the X pops up. The animation is more or less innocuous, but when it comes to Tinder, that little wiggle is a taunt. You’ll be back, wiggle wiggle, I won’t stay gone for long, wiggle wiggle, you’ll get lonely and want to see if you can find someone who’s wiggle “fluent in sarcasm” wiggle.

For about five years, my relationship with Tinder has been more on-and-off than any of my (several) less-than-stable romantic relationships. But then, romantic relationships take discipline and commitment and time. The better metaphor for Tinder is addiction. Tinder is accessible when I’m at my lowest and gives me a temporary burst of dopamine and distraction, but never more.

And like an addiction, it’s robbed me of at least one of life’s purest pleasures. A million people and articles can explain how Tinder has ruined courtship—and even hookup culture. But its truest victim is the single element that makes flirtation fun. Tinder killed the crush.

You might think that Tinder would be a crush paradise. After all, crushes are all about instinctual attraction, and what’s more instinctual than evaluating someone’s picture and swiping left or right based on your gut reaction (plus, learning they’re 6’1″, INTJ, and, from the looks of their picture, were once were on a boat). Tinder should fulfill the smartphone promise, making things quicker and easier. I’m able to order a pizza and ride in a stranger’s car at the touch of a button. When I’m lonely and bored, I should be able to materialize a crush—someone to joyfully obsess over with all of the hope of someone who thinks she’s found The One.

But see, that smartphone modus operandi (speed! convenience!) runs counter to how human connection works.

Part of the problem is after swiping on Tinder for a few hours (let alone days or weeks), potential partners become almost interchangeable. To the shrewd, practiced swiper, a mere glance at a profile picture is enough to know whether that person merits a right or left swipe. Glasses, right. Dog, right. Fish, left. Mirror selfie, left. Red hat, left. Even when you’re intrigued enough to click for more information on someone, everyone blurs together into a single amorphous Jim looking for his Pam. Far from being fun, early “getting to know each other” conversations quickly become a chore. Our attraction to a person in the real world is based on their smell, the sound of their voice, the things they laugh at. On Tinder, people are just cardboard cutouts. Every time I succumb to it, I find myself using the same trite questions and giving the same trite answers. It’s rare that I ever give someone my phone number to propel the conversation to text. It was even rarer to feel a connection so undeniable that it’s propelled us into the real world. It’s hard to get butterflies about someone who’s just a two-dimensional face in your screen, one of 25 guys saying, “Hey, how’s ur weekend looking?”

Now, a crush. A crush is magnificent. After the “We’re comfortable enough to finally just wear pajamas and order in” stage, it’s the best part of a relationship, when each text notification sends a shiver of excitement through your entire body and you post selfies to your Instagram Story just to see if they’ll see them. Yes, it’s also a stage of paranoia (who is that girl in that Facebook picture from 2011???) and misery in the minutes waiting for the response to a risky text, but that exquisite pain just heightens the euphoria when he does text back and when you find out that girl from 2011 was actually just his sister all along.

The one time I ever remember feeling something akin to a crush on someone I saw on an app, it was because I recognized him from Twitter. Without external context, he would have been completely inscrutable. In all likelihood, if I hadn’t known he was hilarious and liked the same movies I did from his tweets, I would have swiped left. (Although, in all fairness, maybe I should have. We went out for three months, then he dumped me via text.)

Tinder is transactional and gamified. The swipe is a slot machine. It entices you to go for one more swipe and then one more—just to see what else is out there. But no one can match up against the prospect of all the other single people in the world, plus the ones who exist in your imagination. It’s the same mentality that keeps people glued to the slots in Vegas casinos: The next swipe could be the jackpot!

But perhaps the biggest problem with Tinder is also how it sold itself to us: You only match with people who you know are interested in you (or at least interested enough).

The pleasure of the crush is in how it starts, the uncertainty of it. A crush is a challenge—and a terrifying risk. The not-knowing part, the time when you have no idea how the other person feels about you is about 80 percent of the sensation we describe as butterflies.

It’s exhilarating, miserable, torturous, and ecstatic, the stuff of sending a flirty text that you outsourced to your entire group chat. That tension doesn’t exist on Tinder—where you only end up in conversation with someone once you’ve established mutual attraction. That other person at least wants to meet up, if just to hook up. And that happens after you’ve waded through throngs of fuckboys and randos.

If you’re looking to meet someone in real life but still want the expediency of the Internet, I recommend a good, old-fashioned Twitter DM slide. A little audacious! Full of anticipation! But same rule applies for bathroom-mirror selfies: If that’s their profile pic, metaphorically swipe left.

Dana Schwartz is the author of the memoir Choose Your Own Disaster. Follow her on Twitter @DanaSchwartzzz.

Your Internet Boyfriend Is Obviously One of These 14 Guys

Your first crush is a rite of passage. The fixations that follow it are just life. Nervous, awkward, sublime. Disasturous. Transcendent. Here, we celebrate infatuations, obsessions, and passions in all their exquisite splendor. Meet our “It’s Just a Little Crush” series. Isn’t she divine?

Internet Boyfriend (n): A male famous or semi-famous person whom your entire Twitter feed has a crush on at the same time. Often a newcomer who at least seems like a feminist. Arrived on the scene with a breakthrough project that made the world go, “👀.” Can be in a relationship, despite Internet Boyfriend status. Can’t be married.

How to use it in a sentence: Noah Centineo is this week’s Internet Boyfriend, but I heard the star of that new Netflix romcom has serious IB potential.

The advent of the Internet Boyfriend (circa 2008) has been explored at length elsewhere, and in truth there is no one definitive account. But what makes an Internet Boyfriend? That’s easier to assess. Because while Internet Boyfriends come in a wealth of looks, aesthetics, and levels of fame, true specimens do share several essential common traits. Of course, an Internet Boyfriend is lovable and charismatic, but so are tons of dudes.

The Internet Boyfriend takes it one step further: If he met your parents, he’d offer up a crumb crake that he’d baked himself—no questions asked. He doesn’t have some weird complex about splitting the check and will happily talk You fan theories with your friends. He’d never leave you on “read.”

At present, Noah Centineo is the Internet’s current BF. His performance in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before made an entire generation of jaded Netflix users believe in romance. But 2018’s Internet Boyfriend can’t hold the top spot forever. With 2019 comes a new slate of men who look like they’d really love to meet your mom and saw this Maya Angelou quote on Instagram that reminded them of you.

Here, we spotlight 13 of them.

The Best Sweatshirts for Women 2019

It’s still winter. Politics sucks, the weather sucks, and we’re all sick of being inside. Our Winteritis stories are for women who can’t read another think piece, who’ve pushed the outer limits of time it’s possible to spend on social media, and who just want to shop online and hibernate until spring is here.

Spring is just around the corner, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at the weather reports. Just a few weeks ago, most of the United States was stuck in a very frigid polar vortex. When the temperature is in the single digits like this, getting dressed to go outside feels nearly impossible. (And don’t get us started on how to get out of bed in the first place.) The easiest thing to do, obviously, is to just throw on a sweatshirt. It resembles your coziest blanket, after all.

And good news: Sweatshirts have been popping up all over NYFW this past week on and off the runway, most notably in the tie-dye variety at Collina Strada. The takeaway? Sweatshirts have always been a wardrobe staple, sure, but now they’re truly trendy amongst the fashion set. Oh, and did we mention they go with everything? You can even wear these once spring finally shows up. So shop the nine best sweatshirts to wear for the rest of winter, below, from a very on-trend tie-dye look to a more simple Champion classic.

Tara Gonzalez is the commerce editor at Glamour, follow her at @tarigonzalez on Instagram.