Fripperies and Finery

I got my first bra at 11 -- a ‘training bra’ which was basically just an undershirt made of stretchy material in a brassiere-like shape. Honestly, it was more just a way for mother to shut me up than an actual physical necessity. I had giant, horking envy of my older sister’s entrance into the mysteries of puberty and simply HATED to be left behind

Also, ‘training’ bra? How does one ‘train’ a budding pair of Angel Cakes? No, don’t answer that one. Please.

I’m from a large-ish family so there wasn’t the extra change around for frilly, colorful dainties. Plus, since I went from 10 years old to 20 (bodywise – emotional maturity has yet to catch up) in the space of a couple of years mia madre wasn’t about to waste the dough on the KEE-UTEST little 28A (it had a bumble bee right in the center!) when she knew my allegrissimo growth spurt would blow me through that in another couple of months.

So, I embroidered bees, flowers and patterns on my plain old white Montgomery Ward Teenform specials. There were a couple of failed tie dye experiments too. Christ a’ mighty, I wanted a pretty and fun soutien-gorge.

It wasn’t until after I was in college and out visiting a friend in San Francisco that I discovered Sugar Plum Heaven. Yup,Victoria’s Secret.

I was 18 and just a few weeks from joining up with that traveling carnival. Julia took me down to Ghirardelli Square. We walked into what looked like, to my young imagination, a turn of the century, way upscale English boudoir. Everything was draped in swathes of sheer lavender gossamer, silk and satin. The door was of heavily carved dark wood with stained glass bits embedded, there were peacock feathers hanging from the ceiling and bright Tiffany lamps on every little end table.

And then I saw the brassieres. More beautiful than I could have imagined and well beyond my poor college student budget. This became one of my goals -- to be able to buy, to wear undergarments made of silk, satin and lace -- in the colors of twilight, aubergine, emerald and crimson.

Eventually I was able to afford the occasional, gloriously beautiful frippery and, to wear them under my Tshirt and jeans, gave me a lovely secret joy.

Years passed. Much sensible, yet brightly colored cotton, moved into my top drawer -- the silk and satin dainties shifted to the back, brought out only on special occasion. New fancies and flash were clearly needed so Jen and I ventured out to our local shopping emporium and what had once been the Ciel de Lingerie.

Mein Gott, things have changed! Sure, sure, there are still some wonders on those racks but at more astronomical prices than I’d remembered. Plus, so much of it is clearly meant for the catwalk or just the bedroom -- definitely not intended for every day use.

I remembered Victoria's Secret having more affordable bits. They carried cotton bras and panties in stripes and polka dots, in oranges, teals and vermilions. All in just the right sizes and cuts. Yes, they still have a less expensive line but now it’s all this horrible, nasty-ass, cheesy, nylon crapola. There’s little difference now between VS and Frederick’s of Hollywood. Hell, they’re two Kamikazes and one pool hall Tshirt away from the Spencer’s Gifts market.

And the lighting -- oof, no more the decor, the soft lighting which brought to mind Lady Chatterley's Lover and Wuthering Heights. No, no. Police Station line ups have more forgiving illumination.

Once again, so many eons later, I’m on the hunt for comfortable, pretty, elegant fancies.