my occasional musings on life, love, art, perfume ... what else is there?


An Uplifting Post

So I have a few days off before I throw myself into job hunting. And about what am I thinking, nay obsessed?

Foundation garments. Uplifting garmentage. Brassieres.

I believe I am missing vital information in determining the right bra for me and I take myself over to the Nordstrom website bra section, where I eye the espoused bra sizing method.

I whip out the old tapemeasure and carefully wrap it around me in all the ways they specify.

Heh. If you think I'm going to tell you numbers, think again. I mean, I have SOME sense of propriety. Not much, admittedly, but some.

Then there's the type. Wired. Unwired. Underwired. Banquette. (Could that be right? Like a ledge you rest them on?) Bandeau. (The ace bandage approach.) Demi. (For your inner Lady of the Night.) Contour. (Oh, please. How many shapes do they come in?) Minimizer. (You wish.) Maximizer. (For you socks-stuffing underachievers.)

Let's move on to brand: Chantelle. Wacoal. La Perla. The Playtex 18-Hour Marathon Suspension Bridge Model (Look Ma, no visible means of support!) Bali. Olga.

Of all the things you should not buy online, bras must rank right up there. Talk about blindfolded shopping. I mean, you're not going try it on until you own it. And then, what?

But have you ever been in a dressing room with a matronly-slash-dominatrix sales associate who insists on remaining in the room through the whole process? And then, with all the gentleness and finesse of a mammography technician, tugs, snaps, pulls and pushes things around until you want to scream, "Leave me -- AND THEM -- alone!"

I'll take my chances online.


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