How Slutcakes Began in Brighton…
Dear Diary,
How exactly does someone end up making erotic cupcakes in Brighton for a living?
Someone very famous, very successful, and very dead once said about one’s life path, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backwards.”
I agree.
So where are the Slutcakes dots?
Dot #1: Dad’s Lunchbox
“Why don’t you try baking? Dad could do with some biscuits in his work lunchbox.”
She handed me an iconic staple of every New Zealand kitchen, The Edmonds Cookbook. I was only nine, but little did she know, my mother was about to unleash a creative culinary baking beast of the highest order, and my dad soon had to upsize his trousers.
The freezer was stocked, the fridge was full, and the cupboards were caving in with tins and bins of Melting Moments, Anzac cookies, Ginger Crunch, coconut loaves, those biscuits where you use your thumb to poke a hole for strawberry jam, and my very favourite creation, blueberry and cream cheese muffins (they’ll change your life, even to this day).
Dot #2: Baking Like a Bastard in My Own Cafe
In the midst of a degree in English and Art History (the classic combo when you really don’t know what to do when you grow up), I decided to open a cafe.
I was the head chef, but it was the baking that really inspired me. My lush muffins flew out the door, so much so that I decided to employ roaming muffin girls to supply the office blocks all over town. (I called them my muff girls, which they didn’t love).
Most mornings, I’d be up at 4am, baking like a bastard.
Ten years and approximately a million muffins later, I never wanted to see another spatula in my life. So I left to travel the world, with one very muscular mixing bicep and excitement for the future.
I was more than just magnificent muffins. I wanted something new.
Dot #3: Fifty Shades of Grey
Fifty Shades was all the rage and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Somewhat sheepishly, I started reading it on a train one day.
I was not offended by the whips, wands and wax. I was offended by the grammar!
I admired her success, but how could such poorly written rubbish gain such fame!?
I didn’t understand, but I was pretty sure I could write something far sexier. So I did. And my boyfriend liked it, a lot.
So I kept doing it, mostly because it was fun and I enjoyed choosing which salacious schlong slang to use that day.
Dot #4: Tea & Cake in Darjeeling
I moved to India solo, with zero clue what to do.
Darjeeling, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, called my name. I listened, stayed, and as I got to know people, they’d ask me what I used to do.
My answer would always be the same:
“I used to be a chef.”
And their response, every, single time was:
“Ooooh! Can you bake me a cake?”
Which I thought was odd, but there are many odd things in India, so I’d just smile and moonwalk out of the conversation, until about 50 people had asked me the same thing.
So after three years of travelling, I picked up the wooden spoons again and began Cake Lady.
Dot #5: A Catsit with Princess Diana
Five years, a broken heart, and 100,000 cakes later, I moved to Brighton.
I found a job quickly, but deep down I knew it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. So I experimented with various things, including petsitting and writing.
I wrote two books about living in India, as well as… ummmm… (sorry Mum), more smut.
The smut became popular (and before you ask, I write under a pseudonym and NO I won’t tell you), so on one housesit, taking care of a precious cat called Princess Diana, I converted a linen cupboard into a recording studio and turned all my short stories into audio filth.
Luckily, I have a nice voice (one review stated that I could read a physics paper and it would be sexy), so it worked.
And listeners found that Lady Diana’s soft purring in the background just added sensuous intrigue.
Dot #6: Existential Panic
Some might call it a midlife crisis, and I tend to agree, but instead of buying a secondhand Porsche, I just spoke to every single person I know about what I should do when I grow up.
Relentlessly.
Not many people know about my smut writing, but one who does grabbed my hand and said:
“I’ve been waiting for this very moment! You need to combine your skills! Baking AND erotica!”
I stared at her, and at the exact same second, we both whispered:
“Slutcakes!”
And that’s how a lifetime of baking, writing smut, travelling and quirky career decisions somehow turned into Slutcakes: erotic cupcakes →, decorating classes → and kinky kitchenware →, all crafted in Brighton, UK, home of the horniest hen do.
Did I see this coming? Never. Not in a million years.
And I bet my mum didn’t either when she handed me that ever-so-wholesome recipe book about forty years ago.
Love and connected dots,
Fancy Something a Little Filthy?
💋 Cupcakes 💋 Kinky Kitchenware
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