My Dad thinks a woman in a flannel nightgown is the cat’s meow. In fact, he adores a woman in a long flannel nightgown so much, he keeps a stash in our foyer ‘gift’ closet for his latest ‘lady friend’. Meanwhile, a Belgian baron I had the pleasure of sitting next to at a wedding in Marrakesh, nearly carried me to the nearby alter when I talked of having gone to cooking school and my ability to sew.
Wedding in M'Kesh (bridesmaids dress courtesy of CKB and Baron not included)
For others, stiletto’s paired with a flesh hugging leather pencil skirt (or kelly green pique skirt) is hotter than hot. Alas, we put sexy in the eye of the beholder.
The ooohing and ahhing of men for women in high heels and a tight skirt just plain confuses me. Wait, no, I GET IT. What I mean is, is it fun to be out with a girl that has to sit on the sidelines when the night calls for skipping and cartwheels? Is she willing to dump the shoes for bare feet and to rip her ‘oh so sexy’ too tight skirt? Is her ‘sexy’ ensemble going to kill the fun? Probably not for you if you're a guy...but for me, YES.
I like to think things gone wrong can sometimes make the fun. So sometimes, restrictive clothing adds to the fun…but only if the wearer is willing. At the Orange Ball a few Winters ago, surrounded by many a dashing Dutch man, I split the zipper of one of our CK Bradley sample dresses doing a dance move over the back of my very nimble partner. (This is just one of the MANY ways we test the clothing before it hits the racks at CK Bradley) Now I must admit, had I known the move my partner was about to thrust upon me, I would have rapidly swooshed off the dance floor in search of another lime for my libation, but my dance partner was just too quick. He had me up and over his back before I could blink. Over him I went, zipper ripping as fast as my mind was wondering where the floor had gone. I landed on my feet, (thanks to non-stiletto’s) and grabbed the front half of my dress that now lay around my waist before the whole party could see my bare breasts. 
(there was a time when I didn't mind showing off my bare breasts...)
The rest of the night I danced about the Ball with a tablecloth wrapped about me like a Pashmina covering my top half. Now I realize this might not be sexy…but it sure was fun. (And to be honest, had it been a tight skirt that split, I would have had just as much fun wearing the tablecloth about as a full dress/toga)
Back to the ever popular sexy stiletto. At 5’11”, I don’t wear heels that often. No need to be taller than that on a day to day basis. So when I do decide to be out and about in heels, I am far from the hip swinging, hair thrusting diva that owns her heels and attitude while wearing them. Instead I feel like I am playing a video game avoiding all hazards from sidewalk cracks to subway grates to uneven asphalt. If someone sends me to fetch a Jack and Ginger at the bar, I walk like an 8 yr old playing dress up in her mom’s pumps and have to down half the drink before my return trip to minimize spillage. If the menu calls for heels, like some black tie party, I stick some flip flops in my usually large clutch. This makes me totally mobile if necessary. With a moments notice, I can outrun the other 10 people trying to grab a cab, run after the cutie who thought it was OK to leave the party without introducing himself, or flee at lightening speed from an old flame who thinks its time to break the ice, again.
Maybe sexy boils down to confidence. When you have it you can possess any mood you wish and present it to the world as you like. I suppose if you can ride piggy back on the cute boy you just met in your tight leather skirt and win a race up a Down escalator in your Manolos, you are sexy and are having fun. But its plain sinful to let sexy get in the way of fun.
-Barefoot and Fancy Free, Bradley.
