Laying the Foundation
There’s something about shopping for undergarments that simply infantilizes you (or perhaps more precisely, to coin a phrase, pre-pubescentilizes you). Doesn’t matter if you’re buying lacy La Perlas — you can’t help but still feel a little Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret
Realizing that I really needed to revamp my under-wardrobe — okay, so some of those lacy La Perlas don’t really provide the best support or coverage — I did some research (the last Neiman Marcus the book said 80% of women wear the wrong bra size!) and all signs pointed to Town Shop, an old-school lingerie store on the Upper West Side. And I do mean old-school. In addition to having been founded over a hundred years ago, the store employed “expert fitters” who seem to be mostly biddies — the kind you can just imagine asking boys who’ve been dragged to the store by their moms to buy pants, “Is it tight in the crotch here?” You know what I’m talking about. Worse, it was the type of store where you couldn’t just browse. You had to be helped. The bras weren’t hanging on racks; they were stashed away in drawers that the likes of you would never be allowed to rummage through on your own.
Suffice it to say I really had to psych myself up to walk in that door. And my instincts were correct. I was overwhelmed by the crowd. Who knew it would be so busy on a rainy Sunday afternoon? People were milling about — including the sundry men who did who knows what at the store — and I could hear one fitter asking a customer loudly, “Honey, are you sure you think you’re a 34C?”
Just what I needed — someone questioning my cup size. I instantly flashed back to the moment when my mother insisted we had to go shopping for a training bra. Oh, the sheer horror of it. A woman approached me with a clipboard, asking for my name to put on a waiting list to be helped. I panicked.
Now I have friends who swear by this store, but the Grand Central Station nature of it on this day was just too much. I found myself hopping in a cab and high-tailing it to the dulcet confines of the 6th floor lingerie department at Bergdorf’s. There, no fitter accosted me. No one menacingly whipped out her measuring tape. I could graze unmolested. I could choose my size anonymously — dammit, I am a C cup! And I should think I’d know what fits and what doesn’t! Oooh, but this lacy one with the tiny straps and band sure is pretty…
Technorati Tags: lingerie, shopping, bras, undergarments
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April 24th, 2006 10:54
Seriously, Alex, if you can go to Town Shop on a weekday, do so. You have a Moral Fashion Obligation to yourself. Maybe you ARE a C-cup; they’ll steer you to the best ones for you. And if you are something Other (32C? 34C? 36C? C what you can find), you will look better for it. You need to do this for those of us who live too far from Mecca to go there ourselves.
*And you probably ARE what size you think you are. Because if 80% of America is wearing the wrong size, 20% is wearing the right size. I did at least get to run into the Traveling Fitters from the Oprah show, and I said, “I’m a 36D.” Guess what I turned out to be? A 36D. But they’ll put you in the best …C for you.
April 24th, 2006 12:18
oh yes! It’s so important. They have a similar store to that down in Houston, Top Drawer, replete with the fitting and the drawers and the biddies, but when I needed a strapless bra for my…um…let’s just say generous chest and tiny ribcage, they not only found me the eighth architectural wonder of the world, they also took it in for me so that it fit my waist! You could also see if they take appointments or something.
April 24th, 2006 14:58
I personally would die if anyone yells out my size b/c I am flat as a washboard.
April 24th, 2006 23:49
Y’know, I haven’t thought of it in ages, but in college, I worked for a lingerie store that specialized in mastectomy fittings — but all the really good-fitting bras were in drawers there, too. Only the Frederick’s of Hollywood-style fashions were browsable. And, yes, I wrangled measuring tape.
April 24th, 2006 23:53
Yes, I admit I just need to suck it up (and maybe suck it in too) and go back when it’s not quite so crowded and stressful. The biddies might not be so bad without an audience!