How complex an issue lingerie is. Bridget Jones neatly surmised the struggle (as she so often does) when she considered the pros and cons of Spanx vs. thong: greatly increase chance of reaching crucial moment by wearing the former, or be akin to sex Goddess at crucial moment by opting for the latter? The struggle, as they say, is real. What the fuck does one wear when confronted with a backless, sweetheart, strapless, upside down monstrosity of a dress? Will it look embarrassingly forward-thinking if I wear matching lingerie on a date? And – god forbid – will his anaconda want none if my knickers don’t enhance my buns?
Girl world is fraught with such thorny situations as these; a minefield of sorts (if the fields were shop floors and the mines lacy.) None however, are so treacherous as the fit of one’s bra. When I reached puberty and sprouted Fergie-dubbed ‘lady lumps’, no one told me I’d need a degree in biology to find a bra that fitted right. In 2014, the Bible (WWD) reported that so complex an issue the bra fit really is, that 64% of the 10,000 women they surveyed were wearing the wrong size. I don’t think anyone was that surprised; minds immediately jumped to their elderly neighbour or their curiously tri-boobed old school teacher. But did they consider themselves? I for one, did not. Besides the fact that I don’t really wear bras, (because life is too short to be trussed up everyday) when I did wear them, I was convinced I was in the right size. I’m not entirely sure why this is. I would know, for instance, if my skinny jeans were too tight or my A-line skirt too baggy. I would know and I would diet/belt accordingly. So what is it about the bra that made me so complacent?
I would love to give a well-considered answer to the obliviousness of the 64%, but I may as well attempt to expound dark matter. What I can tell you though, is that Debenhams do a free bra fitting service and that it will probably change, if not your whole life, the contents of your underwear drawer.