The Corsetière

Yesterday I was doing a little shopping when I happened to walk past a lingerie shop. On impulse I went in.

I’ve needed new bras for a while.

I rang the bell and they buzzed me inside. I immediately  realised I could’ve made a mistake.

This was not going to be a ‘just popping in’ visit.

Before I knew it, a saleswoman had given me a glass of champagne and another had found out my bra size.

‘I’m not sure what I am,’ I replied when she asked me. ‘Maybe a 34 C, I’m quite small, I..’

She whipped out her tape measure.

‘36D,’ she said. ‘Right, let’s…’

‘Hang on, hang on, you cannot be right, there’s no way I’m a D cup. Or a 36.’

But suddenly there I was, with my top off, being told by the bra specialist to bend over, get my tits into the bra this way, no that way, excellent darling, stand up, put you hand in, move the left breast to the right and the right to the left, look at that, perfect darling perfect…’

I felt like I was part of Absolutely Fabulous.

Also, I worked out there is an art to wearing a bra.

I have never worked this out before.

The white lace one that I loved wasn’t quite right. Neither was the black one. The red one was sluttish. The ivory one made me look a bride

Before I knew it I had tried on 25 bras. The two that we decided on were rather beautiful. When I say we, the saleswoman was very involved. Trying a bra had become like trying on shoes. I was fitted, stroked, smoothed, paraded in front of the mirror, paraded in front of the other saleswoman, lifted up, tucked in and tweaked.

In a very professional bra way of course.

I eventually settled on two bras. Mostly I wanted to get away from the shop; I suddenly felt smothered by all the lace, satin and sales.

Buying bras is an exhausting business.

And an expensive one.

I walked out with my size 36D breasts and my new lace bras. I’d bought a few pairs of panties to match, because, well darling, you have to, you cannot wear mismatched underwear. And when I queried the price of the panties, the bra ladies raised their eyebrows at me like ‘everyone pays this for underwear.’

Duh.

As I was leaving the saleswoman called after me.

‘Don’t forget darling. Put the bra on, bend over, get your tits in, stand up, fasten it, put your hand in, move the left right and the right left, check, if not perfect bend over again.’

YES, LIKE WE ALL HAVING FUCKING TIME TO DO THIS IN THE MORNING.

I don’t even like wearing a bra.

Spencer_1936_modelling_garment

22 thoughts on “The Corsetière

  1. Scottsdale, Arizona has a specialty shop like this with prices to match. My friend went for a fitting and we had fits of giggles over how she was ordered to get into the contraptions – the little man assisting her was quite stern that she must not stuff her breasts into the cups, that she was in fact deflating them as if she was punching down bread dough, and that would never do. She also learned her true size, and the prices were breathtaking.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My grandmother took me to a bra fitting a million years ago and my take-away was exactly what the shop lady told you! I have done it ever since, and for what it’s worth, find it to be great advice. I’ve even been known to visit the ladies room simply to “adjust the girls.” In a well-fitting bra, my 50 year-old girls can stand up to any 20 year old’s 😉

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  3. Although it is not the most pleasant thing to do, I always get fitted when I buy a new bra or panty girdle. Some of my friends complain about the fitter in the room with you but, if I am going to spend $79 for a bra and $28 for a pair of panties or $59 for a panty girdle, I want the fitter in the room with me the entire time. So she sees my boobs or ass, who cares when I am spending that kind of money (haha). I am sure she sees boobs all day long and could care less. If I walk out with the perfect bra and panty set or panty girdle, it is well worth it.

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  4. I have a friend that I take yoga classes with at the “Y” and she says she hates having to go for a bra fitting because the fitter will see her girls. On the other hand when we go to the locker room at the “Y” after our yoga class where the lockers and showers are all open she has no problem walking around in her birthday suit. Go figure….

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