My quest for the famous—or infamous, depending on whom you’re talking to—vagina beer began on a hot summer day. One of those days that just makes you crave a cold beverage…
Poland-based The Order of Yoni makes Bottled Passion Monique—one of the two elusive "flavors" of vagina beer—which contains (at least according to the label) "Monique’s lactobacillus bacteria." Not too shabby judging by her picture. Monique—who goes by Monika on the Yoni website—is your classic Slavic beauty: blond, slim, tiny waist and big boobs that may or may not be real.
If you manage to get ahold of this latest "business venture," you’ll find a sneak peek of Monique at her sexiest: flirtatiously looking at you from the bottle, a bra strap slipped off one of her shoulders (obviously). She’s also bathing in a tub full of what looks like potato chips, but is likely just fake yellow rose flakes. There’s another picture of Monique "titty fucking" (for lack of a more professional term) her own beer, which is very postmodern if you really think about it. At least until you realize that it actually isn’t.
That's not all. Monique's already been rated in four categories, per the bottle's label. She scores well in the beauty and sensuality department (5/5). I can imagine she was disappointed to know that her grace and charm scored 4/5, which is probably why she never showed up at the launch of Bottled Passion Monique in Katowice, Poland a few weeks ago. (I wasn't there, but a little mouse told me).
There also seems to be a perfect sex position that one should be in while drinking "the essence of Monique": backwards cowgirl. When we find her essence at a local bar in Wroclaw, however, my friend and I can't be arsed really, so we opt out and go for the good old sit-in-a-chair-at-the-table position. We're almost perverse in our conservative ways.
Before we begin to sip on Monique—who apparently "is in the beer. Literally"—I make a very conscious decision not to tell my male friend that he's about to go all cunnilingus on Monique in front of his beloved girlfriend (who's in on the secret). He's deliciously oblivious to this fact and dives in.
"It's really sour," he says, wrinkling his face. Then shaking the bottle, "and fucking murky."
Now it's my turn. I smell it first, which is not a good idea. Bad things pop up in my mind—connotations that (probably) would not have been there had I not known I was about to drink someone's vaginal bacteria. I'm not so keen on my own. Why would I put someone else's lactobacillus in my mouth? I have no choice, though, so I take a sip.
"Yeah. It’s fucking sour!" I proclaim.
I squint my eyes, wondering if it's actually the flavor or the fact that I just willingly licked someone's smear test sample.
I ask my friend whether he felt any unusual sensations while sipping on Monique. Could he see "a woman of his dreams" and the "object of his desire" suddenly "giving him a passionate massage and gently whispering anything he'd like to hear"?
That's what the creators of The Order of Yoni promise.
"No" is his short answer.
This man is cold as ice when it comes to Monique. We pour the "golden drink brewed with her lure and grace and flavored with wild instincts" into the sink. There goes my $5! It must have been the 4/5 score for grace.
It actually turns out my friend is not the only bastard ignorant of Monique's passion magically locked in a bottle. Earlier on during my quest for the vagina beer, I stepped into a local beer shop that seemed to have just about any beer ever sold in Poland. But not Monique.
"We talked about it with my boss and decided that we wouldn't sell this bullshit of a beer," said a big guy behind the counter. "Good luck tasting it. It's supposed to be brewed in lab-like conditions, but who knows what sort of diseases you'll catch from drinking it," he laughed mischievously.
I ask him if he's had many customers inquiring about Monique?
"You're probably the third, maybe the fourth person," he replies.
I tell him that, from what I've heard, The Order of Yoni plans to target mostly the American and Japanese markets.
"There's no way Americans will buy this crap," he argues. "They're too conservative. Plus they're obsessed with Belgian beer. The Japanese, though… they'll go for it. Any weird idea and they're all over it."
The bartender then moves on to another customer.
There's one thing you need to understand about Poland: We love and celebrate gorgeous women. They're on posters, buildings, holding chainsaws while teasing their strong DIY heroes and smiling at you from above the entrance to a new club that doesn't even bother pretending it's not a brothel. It's for this reason that, as surprised as I was to hear about the vagina beer being brewed in Poland, I wasn't actually really surprised at all. I mean, where else if not here? It's the country of beautiful blondes, many churches and a government terrified of the most dreadful disease of all—the one that kills you in your sleep—otherwise known as "gender."
Just a short chain of thoughts I'm experiencing as I walk to another shop.
At the time of my search, Paulina had yet to be bottled. It looks like her essence was a little bit harder to catch. Nevertheless, I now step into a retail store where I know I can find a bottle of Monique because the Order of Yoni founder ensured it.
Still, the shop assistant has no clue what I'm talking about when I ask him for vagina beer. (Awkward.) He shuffles some bottles around. I finally find it myself. It's on a lower shelf (but not the very bottom, which is promising). One lonely Monique. A full bottle of her. Now that the guy knows which beer I came to inquire about, I ask him if it's popular.
"This one, we've had five bottles," he explains. "This is the last one."
It's a good start, I guess. 5/5. Just the way Monique would have liked.
Photo credits: Beer photos by Jaśmina Jasińska; Monique photo courtesy of Order of Yoni.