Latest news with #SamanthaJones
Vogue
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Vogue
An Ode to the Knicks Gear Kylie Jenner Never Got to Wear
Over the weekend, the Indiana Pacers officially bested the New York Knicks and there's so much to mourn: the chance of New York ending its championship drought (in men's sports that is—the women are doing just fine!); the videos of a Chrome hearts-clad Timothée Chalamet practically coaching from the sidelines; and, of course, Kylie Jenner, the patron saint of supportive girlfriends, and her courtside 'fits. Jenner, like many women before her, participated in the rite of passage of adopting her boyfriend's team. While most are probably just subjected to their partners yelling at the TV from the couch, she got to witness it up close and personal from her courtside seat. A Los Angeles native, Jenner is no stranger to Lakers games, but following their elimination from the playoffs in May, she embraced the diehard Chalamet's hometown team with gusto (even reposting a prescient Samantha Jones TikTok about her newfound situation). Courtesy of @kyliejenner on Instagram We got a taste of Jenner's team spirit throughout the Eastern Conference finals. At first, she opted for more lowkey looks, accessorizing basic tanks and tees with Knicks snapbacks and beaded friendship bracelets á là The Eras Tour. Later on, as she became more entrenched in the fandom, she began pairing bright orange leather jackets with white pointy-toe Chanel pumps. On Sunday night, following her trip to Indianapolis for game six, Jenner posted a photo of the contents of her suitcase, making it clear just how much shopping she did to Knicks-ify her wardrobe. While we recognized her baseball cap, Chanel shoes, crocodile Dior bag, and beaded bracelet, she offered a peek of what we didn't get to see on the court: a Space Jam x Knicks graphic tee and a mini Hermès Kelly in the Bleu Hydra colorway among them. But one thing we probably never would've seen otherwise? Cobalt blue lingerie with orange lace trim.
Daily Mail
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
More sex, more fashion, more fun... Just like that, Carrie and Co are back on form, reviews CLAUDIA CONNELL
And Just Like That After two disappointing seasons as flat as a loafer shoe that Carrie Bradshaw wouldn't be caught dead in, And Just Like That – the sequel to Sex And The City – is finally hitting the right note. The reboot has struggled to morph sex columnist and reformed serial-dater Carrie Bradshaw and her friends Miranda and Charlotte into menopausal midlifers without their fourth wheel, the feisty, sex-crazed PR Samantha Jones. The initial storylines prioritised diversity and social justice, while shoehorning in tediously earnest characters. But, returning this week for a third series, the writers seem to have learnt from their mistakes. Having watched six episodes, I have to say that we're not home and dry... but it's looking good. They have ditched the woke mess of the earlier episodes in favour of more sex, more fashion and more fun. In the last series, newly widowed Carrie, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, reconnected with her ex-fiance Aidan (John Corbett), now a Virginia farmer. Series three sees the pair embark on a long-distance relationship. Come on, there's no way a city fashionista like Carrie would thrive as a farmer's wife and the plotline has nowhere to go. Even their clumsy attempt at phone sex is a snooze fest! So maybe the writers will come up with a zeitgeist way of killing off Aidan, as they did with Carrie's husband Big, who had a heart attack while riding his Peloton in series one. An allergic reaction to Ozempic perhaps? Thankfully, a promising new love interest emerges in the shape of Carrie's grouchy new downstairs neighbour Duncan, a famous British writer with whom she has instant chemistry. And he isn't the only Brit bringing the romance. Late-life lesbian Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), following an unlikely one-night stand, ends up dating plummy-voiced BBC producer Joy, played by Dolly Wells. The Carrie and Aidan story isn't the only aspect of And Just Like That to stretch credulity – very few women pushing 60 teeter around in five-inch heels and precious few full-time working women (as Charlotte and Miranda claim to be) are able to meet for endless coffee/lunch/shopping trips at the drop of a hat. So, some scenes are silly, but others do hit home. Carrie's struggles with technology when it comes to her home alarm system and video doorbell will be familiar to many. Charlotte finding herself 'cancelled' by the 'dog mum' community when her bulldog is mistakenly identified as attacking another mutt in Central Park is also cleverly done. And it's genuinely hilarious when Charlotte and Lisa (Nicole Ari Parker) resort to desperate measures to secure the services of New York's most in-demand tutor, nicknamed 'the Ivy whisperer' due to her ability to get kids into Ivy League colleges. There's a nod to all of the middle-aged women rushing to get diagnosed with ADHD, while Charlotte and her husband are baffled by their daughter's 'poly' (polyamorous) boyfriend. The void left by Samantha is mostly filled by Seema (Sarita Choudhury), Carrie's sharp-tongued real estate agent friend. But, returning this week for a third series, the writers seem to have learnt from their mistakes and now there's more sex, more fashion and more fun Still single in her 50s, she gives a professional matchmaker short shrift when told she needs to be more demure and dress in ladylike pastels if she wants to snare a man. Fashion is still at the core of the show with the actresses changing outfits several times per episode. Some of the clothes are stunning, others are just daft. An enormous cloth hat by Maryam Keyhani that Carrie wears in one episode makes her look like the Artful Dodger. Another scene, in which Carrie's sexy new neighbour complains about the noise her shoes make on her wooden floors, was clearly devised as an excuse to give us a set-to-music montage of her fabulous heel collection. Contrived, yes, but still frothy good fun.
Cosmopolitan
20-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Cosmopolitan
I Had a Threesome With My Boyfriend and a Sex Worker
'Okay, but I'm definitely not going down on her,' is a text I sent my then-boyfriend the night before our first threesome. As you might imagine, the whole threesome thing was his idea—and yes, pretty much any sex expert will tell you that having a threesome you don't really want to have just to please your boyfriend is literally one of the worst possible reasons to have one. But because I, like our lord and savior Samantha Jones, will try pretty much anything once, I was down to give it a whirl. Not to mention, I had a growing feeling monogamy wasn't really my bag and thought a threesome might be a convenient, boyfriend-sanctioned way of exercising my non-monogamous tendencies—one that might even become a gateway to the open relationship we both knew I secretly wanted. There was just one problem: I had never been with a woman before and was pretty sure I had no desire to. The closest I'd come to hooking up with another girl was a New Year's Eve kiss with a college friend. I was definitely in no position to be going down on anyone with a vulva—especially not a professional. Of course, that part—the hiring a pro part—was my idea. Because it would be my first time with a woman and both of our first threesome, I insisted my boyfriend hire a pro. I mean, I figured at least one of us should have some clue what they were doing. But even knowing I would be in the hands of an experienced professional, I still wasn't fully on board with the idea of going all the way downtown with another woman. That is, until Alison* walked into our hotel room in black leather pants and Louboutin stilettos. Okay, so did I take one look at Alison and her red-bottomed heels and think, Wow, I definitely want to eat her pussy? No, not exactly. But she did radiate a warm confidence that pretty immediately put me at ease. Like any woman having a threesome for maybe not quite the right reasons, I had been worried about feeling intimidated by a beautiful, sexually experienced woman entering the chat. But Alison's beauty—combined with her warmth and friendliness—somehow only made me feel more confident in my own. A woman in her early to mid-30s, Alison was about 10 years older than me, and I found myself in awe of her the way you might admire a friend's older sister or a mentor at work—someone who is so beautiful and smart and objectively enviable but somehow doesn't make you feel insecure. Like, Wow, I want to be her—but in a way that makes you feel like you actually could, a way that makes you proud and excited to be a woman, because damn, look how gorgeous and amazing women are. Of course, it helped that she was a professional. She knew exactly how to hype me up while putting me at ease, all without making me feel like the total novice I absolutely was. She deftly positioned me on the couch between herself and my boyfriend, making me feel like the star of the little show we were putting on even though she was really the guest of honor. We sipped prosecco and chatted about Louboutins and Louis Vuitton bags and my relationship with my boyfriend. In other words, we chatted like girls—like friends of a mutual friend who happen to hit it off at a bachelorette party or drunk girls in line for the bathroom at a club. After a few glasses of bubbly and a solid 30 minutes of girl talk, any pussy-eating anxieties I may have brought with me into the room that night had completely dissolved—in part because I was having such a good time hanging out with Alison that I had almost forgotten the real reason she was there, i.e., to have sex with me and my boyfriend. Fortunately, Alison hadn't forgotten. And ever the professional, she knew exactly how to break the ice and transition from girl talk to, uh, girl action. 'Can I kiss you now?' she asked. I've had my share of kisses in the decade or so since I exchanged my first awkward smooch with a boy in a high school gym. In all those years of kissing, however, I've had very few—even among the really, really good ones—that I remember with the specificity with which I can recall my first kiss with Alison. For months afterward, I could remember exactly how her lips felt against mine—soft and full—as if the kiss were happening all over again in real time. More importantly, I could remember exactly how she smelled. I've always been a big believer in the sex sniff test, which is a very unsexy way of phrasing what I think is actually one of the most erotic sensory experiences we have access to as human beings. If you like how someone smells—and I'm not talking about their perfume or shampoo but their natural, human smell, the one you can only pick up on when you're close enough to kiss them—you know there's sexual chemistry. It's the surest sign that there's at least some level of chemical or spiritual attraction at play, and that's something you can't fake. Alison may have been a literal pro whose job was to turn me on, but there's no way even the most experienced professional could have faked that level of sensual connection. I may not have been into women—as far as I knew, anyway—but I was definitely into Alison. As soon as I kissed her, I knew not only that I could do this but that I genuinely wanted to. Not just for my boyfriend, who was watching us kiss with a giant grin splashed across his face like a giddy schoolboy, but for me. Alison took the lead, guiding me to the bed and undressing me before going down on me. Within just a few minutes, I was ready for my turn. Practically vibrating with nervous energy, I took a breath and dove in headfirst. I hesitate to say this lest I offend vulva-havers everywhere, but honestly, the experience wasn't entirely unlike that of going down on a guy. In part because it all tastes the same in the dark, but also in that I seemed to know instinctively what to do. Going down on Alison, I was reminded of giving my very first blow job back in high school—how after weeks of anxious googling (and, yes, poring over every blow job tip Cosmo had to offer), my body just took over in the moment, as if I'd already done it hundreds of times before. Much to my relief, going down on Alison was a similarly intuitive experience, one that came as an exciting reminder that my sexuality is, at least on some level, instinctive—that I myself am an inherently sexual being whose body instinctively knows how to give and receive pleasure. Realizing that my body was wired for pleasure the way I did with my mouth between Alison's legs helped me embrace and inhabit it more fully than I maybe ever had before, in a way that is often hard to do as a woman in a world of diet culture and Photoshop—a world that usually sees and treats our bodies as objects of men's pleasure rather than agents of our own. Going down on Alison and feeling more in tune with myself as a sexual being than I had in a very long time (maybe ever), I suddenly understood how sexuality can be fluid—how there's an extent to which it maybe isn't about dick or pussy or gender but some raw form of desire and attraction that transcends all of that. I mean, yes, I knew that 'sexuality is fluid' the way I know all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares or that matter can be neither created nor destroyed, it just changes shape. But before Alison, I had never experienced my own sexuality as fluid. I didn't know my rectangles could be squares. Suffice it to say, it was a pretty eye-opening experience, one that also happened to end with three orgasms and left my boyfriend and me so turned on that we ended up having sex again that night after our guest left. Naturally, my boyfriend had fully caught the threesome bug after that first experience, and I was a lot more comfortable with the idea now too, thanks to Alison. Unfortunately, I was never quite as into any of the other women we had sex with as I was Alison. Maybe that's just because Alison was a pro who's good at her job, or maybe it really was a matter of pure chemistry. Most likely it's some combination of the two, but ultimately, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I got to have an amazing, enlightening, and sexually satisfying first threesome experience, and I'll always be grateful to Alison for her role in creating that moment we shared. Now, am I saying you should have a threesome with your boyfriend even if you're not sure you want to because you might just surprise yourself? No, that would be bad advice. All I'm saying is, you really never know. *Name has been changed.
Hindustan Times
13-05-2025
- General
- Hindustan Times
International Hummus Day: 7 facts you didn't know about this Middle Eastern delight
Hummus, the velvety blend of chickpeas, tahini, lemon juice—and seriously, no garlic—has transcended its Middle Eastern roots to become a global culinary sensation. Celebrated for its rich flavour and nutritional benefits, this versatile dip, spread, or straight-from-the-bowl delight has found its way into kitchens and onto plates worldwide. Whether paired with warm pita, fresh veggies, or used as a dressing, hummus continues to win hearts and taste buds across cultures. What's in the name? Hummus boasts a storied past, with the earliest known recipes dating back to 13th-century Egypt. Its enduring presence underscores its timeless appeal. Hummuṣ (meaning chickpea) is an abbreviation of the dish's full name, hummus bi tahinah (chickpeas with tahini). Also known as houmos, humus, hommus, or hommos, the word 'hummus' first appeared in English-language dictionaries between 1950 and 1955, derived from the Turkish humus. Nutritional powerhouse Rich in fiber, plant-based protein, and essential nutrients like iron and folate, hummus supports heart health and aids in weight management. Record-breaking delight The 'hummus wars' are a real thing. In 2010, Lebanon and Israel competed in a culinary showdown to create the largest hummus dish. Lebanon claimed victory with a 22,000-pound serving—more than double Israel's 9,000-pound version. It took over 300 cooks to craft the mammoth dish, which earned a Guinness World Record. A true showcase of national pride and culinary prowess! Global variations While traditional hummus is made from chickpeas, global variations abound. In Egypt, for example, it's common to top hummus with ful medames—a seasoned fava bean dish typically flavoured with ground cumin and finished with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Naturally allergen-friendly Hummus is naturally free from gluten, nuts, and dairy, making it a safe and delicious option for those with common food allergies. Chickpeas for mental health Hummus can contribute to improved mental health thanks to its nutritional composition. Chickpeas and tahini are rich in nutrients that support brain function and mood regulation. Chickpeas contain tryptophan, an amino acid that aids in the production of serotonin—a neurotransmitter linked to mood and relaxation. The dip also offers B vitamins, magnesium, and other nutrients that support cognitive function and may help reduce anxiety and depression. Aphrodisiac dip As Samantha Jones portrayed by actor Kim Cattrall famously claimed in Sex and the City 2, hummus may have oestrogenic effects—and science agrees to an extent. Chickpeas are high in vitamin B6, known for its libido-boosting qualities. Combined with iron, magnesium, and potassium, the nutrients in hummus make it a surprisingly potent aphrodisiac. How to make a classic hummus Recipe courtesy of Katie Lee Biegel INGREDIENTS: Two 15-ounce cans chickpeas, drained, liquid reserved 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice 1/4 cup tahini 1 teaspoon ground cumin 2 cloves garlic 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving 1 teaspoon kosher salt Smoked paprika, for serving, (optional) Vegetable crudite and pita chips, for serving DIRECTIONS: Put the chickpeas, lemon juice, tahini, cumin and garlic into a food processor and pulse until smooth. With the motor running, slowly pour in the oil in a steady stream. Add the salt and puree until very smooth. If the mixture is too thick, add some of the reserved chickpea liquid, 2 tablespoons at a time, until the desired consistency is reached. To serve, transfer the hummus to a serving bowl and drizzle some olive oil over the top. Garnish with a sprinkling of smoked paprika if using, and serve with vegetables and pita chips for dipping. Store leftover hummus in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 5 days. (Written by Rajlekha Roy Burman)
The Independent
24-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Bali, not Birkins: What smart investors need to know about changing status symbols
'It's not a bag, it's a Birkin.' In 2001, Sex and the City introduced us to the Hermès Birkin, with character Samantha Jones being told there was a five year waiting list for would-be buyers. The fashion set's favourite accessory went mainstream. The Birkin continues to sell well over 20 years later, both new and second hand. Resale values have reportedly risen faster than gold. The Birkin has helped Hermès to outperform in what has been a torrid time for luxury brands. But how long can that appeal sustain? The Experience Economy Around the same time Sex and the City first aired, B. Joseph Pine and James H. Gilmore published a book coining the term, 'the Experience Economy'. It argued that as the economy evolves...
