While we are definitely not secretly reading E.L. James’ sexy sojourn into kink in the office bathroom during lunch breaks (nope, not us!), your girlfriend, mother or other significant female in your life (parole officer?) has most certainly at least flipped through a few pages. 50 Shades of Grey has sold over 40 million copies. It has outsold Harry Potter in Great Britain. This schlocky work of suburban mom fan fiction is an economic juggernaut, and there’s a cottage industry growing around it.
A special one-off issue, 50 Shades (“of American women who love the book and live the life”) is like if the editors of Cosmo packaged their most nonsensical sex tips (“Rub your nipples with celery!”*) with the most pointless service journalism of Men’s Health (“Stick tree bark in your pee-hole to increase libido!”*).
*not actual tips, but seriously really, really close to actual tips these magazines offer
The Sex Shop
The most obvious outgrowth of the novel would be a sex shop. And in New York, one of Times Square’s few remaining porn-y outposts is obliging with a 50 Shades of Grey section. Featuring your usual assortment of nipple clamps, muzzles and straitjackets, the shop is perfectly placed to lure vacationing Midwestern moms. “Oh, you dearies go and enjoy the Red Lobster! I’m just going to go into…this…<pant>…store…ughhh…<sploosh>.”
Parody cookbook, 50 Shades of Chicken, features a trussed up piece of poultry just dripping juices all over its saucy cover. The book will include recipes like Mustard Spanked Chicken, Dripping Thighs, and Holy Hell Wings. Taking America’s recent love of food porn to its logical conclusion, 50 Shades of Chicken will hopefully be the first and last cookbook inspired by this lady’s desire to have hot wax dripped on her vulva.