Aside from my thing with vibrators and those adorably fuzzy cuffs, I don't have much to do with sex shops. It's not that I don't enjoy naked-fat-lady birthday cards-and those "Friends Don't Let Friends Fuck Ugly Girls" T-shirts are certainly very charming-it's just that most run-of-the-mill sex shacks appear to be teeming with the lame, the overpriced and the screamingly obnoxious. I love a sense of humour about sex but too often in these places I encounter the tired, frat-boy variety of jokes that inevitably fail to induce anything more than a rolling of the eyes.

A perplexing example of the wares these establishments offer is the buffet of novelty items meant to titillate both the libido and taste buds simultaneously. I appreciate the idea-food and sex, after all, are a hot ancient combination-but some of our modern interpretations leave something to be desired. Boob-shaped pasta? Penile chocolate bars? What snickering twelve-year-old mastermind was behind those?

Still, there is something to be said for some of the sex aids you can eat. The edible undies, the kissable oils, the chocolate body-paint are all lovely thoughts, if expensive ones. A woman of simple pleasures, I've always been content with a two-dollar can of whipped cream, a squeezable vat of honey or hot fudge. But if someone else were footing the bill, I suppose I might reconsider ...


Kama Sutra Oil of Love: Strawberries and Champagne
Price: US$12.50
Veronica's Verdict: sexy tingle, sad taste

In the Kama Sutra, there is mention of elephants, transvestites and even biting. There is, however, no mention of oil. That little detail didn't stop The Kama Sutra Company from making Oil Of Love, an ambrosial blend of glycerin, sucrose, water and food colouring: "This silky, kissable, water-based, stain-free oil will warm your skin with an intoxicating tingle and make your lover dizzy with desire." The package was promisingly beautiful, the oil itself housed in a corked bottle. I tried the Strawberries and Champagne flavour, its ruby colour invoking that of the fruit. It was rather silky going on; it did warm up in the hands; and it left an even warmer, sweetish tingle on the tongue. But the taste, I'm afraid, was only vaguely strawberry at best. As for the champagne, they lied-and I cannot deny my disappointment.


Aromantica Liquid Passion: Vixen Vanilla
Price: US$12.50
Veronica's Verdict: Sexy taste, no tingle.

I was much more realistic in my expectations when I attempted this next brand, which actually comes with instructions. "Rub a few drops of this magnificent potion on what ever spot desire draws you to. This smooth and seductive edible oil warms to the touch and tastes as good as it smells." We sampled Vixen Vanilla, an amber-coloured oil that came in a pretty triangular decanter. The cork was sealed with gold wax and I broke a nail tearing it open, spilling it all over the bed. It was smooth, but not nearly as smooth as Oil of Love, nor was it as warm to the touch. The taste was better, more accurate, if only because vanilla is perhaps an easier flavour to simulate. It wasn't exactly crème brûlée, mind you (more angel food cake-ish) but still, I had my fun...and few regrets.


Shunga Erotic Art: Chocolate Body Painting
Price: US$10.50
Veronica's Verdict: never trust a vegan

For Pillow Book fans, this is a keeper. The bottle of liquidy chocolate even comes with a re-usable calligraphy pen that is sure to impress the chicks. However, it isn't for the clumsy-I had immense difficulty living up to the invitation on the back of the bottle to "set your artistic side free" and "paint a love story on your partner's body." I could barely paint at all, though of course licking it off posed no problem. The chocolate was below par, unfortunately-it came off as thin and sugary, its main ingredients being sugar and water. This, I suppose, is due to its being dairy-free so that it keeps longer, which is fine but it lacked the heft and texture I ask of my chocolate.


Chocoholics Body Frosting
Price: US$9
Veronica's Verdict: Love at first lick.

In an era where even sex toys come in fat-free and sugarless varieties, I was not surprised to find a brand of chocolate body frosting claiming itself to be "The Ultimate Low-Fat Fantasy." Regardless, it was damn good. And no hoity-toity pen this time, either-it came instead with a big fat, bristly brush that I loved wielding. No good for detail-work but great, you will agree, for laying it on thick. Very satisfying. What's more, this really does taste like chocolate-it even had milk in it. Honestly, I could have had a blast with this one by myself. For the body conscious, it includes nutritional information on the back and for those with better things to think about, it also comes with several recipe suggestions.


Edible Undies: Pina Colada and Rum Flavour
Price: US$6
Veronica's Verdict: It'll cost you your libido.

Think strappy, rum-flavoured Depends. And I'm being generous about the rum-flavour. These were hideously, hideously unsexy. Off-white in colour, these resembled thin ghetto diapers that you have to assemble yourself. Attempting to put them on (I never quite managed it), I felt like I was prepping myself for an invasive medical exam-perhaps not the pre-coital mood that one is trying to achieve. We sampled the taste only after I had changed out of them. My companion claimed they tasted like rice candy-to me, aspartame-sweetened plastic. If that isn't enough, the material comes apart with one lick, then clumps unpleasantly in the mouth. I didn't swallow.

Fifty-three bucks later, our evening ended with neither of us greatly impressed, though of course parts of it were fun. It certainly isn't to say that food and sex aren't a fabulous combination, but I suspect to pull it off successfully requires something borne of more poetry and invention than a simple mixture of food colouring, sugar and water.

Veronica Tartley (Mona Awad) has eaten, shamelessly or barely at all, in nearly every city in the world. She enjoys rain, hurling things against walls and walks on the beach. She lives beautifully in an undisclosed location at the edge of the known universe. There, she weeps her mascara tears, churns butter in the old style and listens to French accordion music.