| Blogs > RoadNeverTaken > Just saying.... |
|
The Secret I Share with Victoria I’m warning you now. This blog is about underwear. Ladies underwear. So if thinking about underwear makes you…uncomfortable, you should read something else. Specially since it's Sunday. I am an outdoorsy type. I love to canoe, to hike and backpack, camp out. I'm sturdy, enduring. I would have made it from Independence to Santa Fe, walking all the way. And carried two babies, one of each arm, while leading the milk cow next to the wagon. My favorite attire is casual – sensible, comfortable clothes; sensible, comfortable shoes. But underneath – it’s an entirely different story. I love silky, satiny, lacy, swanky lingerie. Recently, I went to San Francisco for a conference right near Union Square. Nordstrom, Saks, Macys – wonderful shopping, great sales. But the store I spent the most time in was Victoria's Secret. At home, I do not usually shop at Victoria's Secret. The store most convenient to me is in a Mall that seems to be habitually filled with gorgeous young things with lithe bodies who probably wear a size 0. I have never worn a size 0. I can’t even remember the last time I wore any size that had the last number 0. Trying to shop for lingerie amid numerous young, giggly girls screaming over the newest thongs is just not fun anymore. The last time I wore a pair of underwear that went right up my butt, I threw them away. And what about those boy-cut panties? Cute on a skinny , looking like they shrunk in the dryer on a sturdy 50-something. Another thing, where do these and near get the $50 for one bra? At their age, I was loading up for a year’s supply of underwear at JC Penney’s White Sale. OK, so I admit in my freaky days, I might not have even worn any underwear, but that was just a phase. Lately, I’ve been shopping at Jockey outlet stores; they have reasonably pretty bras with matching panties in the back of the store. But it feels a lot like that JC Penney’s White Sale. Back when I was a younger, juicier and thinner woman, I used to shop at that same Victoria’s Secret in the Mall but ‘my kind’ seems more likely now to shop in stores that advertise‘foundations’. I’m not a building; I’m a living, breathing, sexy woman. But a Victoria’s Secret practically next door to the Westin St. Francis on Union Square? I thought there just might be a chance I could skip the giggly girls and do some real underwear – oops, excuse me - lingerie shopping. I was going in - armed with my credit card. No matter where the Victoria’s Secret, the saleswomen (‘women’ might be a little premature in some cases) are unfailingly polite. Usually, a slightly older woman is your ‘fitter’, I assume the idea being that you might feel uncomfortable with a girl as young as your granddaughter putting her arms around your breasts in order to measure you. That’d be right. But a more mature woman is like having your best friend along – and she has been hand-picked to be far less judgmental. Clara (I don’t remember my fitter’s name – sticker shock erased that memory) and I had a wonderful time looking at all the styles that were ‘the perfect fit’ for my frame. Of course, I wanted matching panties – the match didn’t have to be exact, but had to coordinate and be sexy but comfortable. I stayed in bra and panty heaven for about an hour, making the selections that will need to carry me over until the next time I find an ‘adult’ Victoria’s Secret. I suppose I could shop from the catalog; Clara even wrote down on a perfectly pink slip what size and styles suit me best. I burned the evidence. But it’s the fun of being waited on so energetically (the Claras of the world have a handle on who can afford Victoria’s Secret) and having it reinforced just how perky that bra makes my gravity-influenced breasts look that keeps drawing me back. Honestly, no one else might know I have a lacy bra and knickers on under my ever so serviceable shirt and jeans, but I do and I like that. It’s kind of my personal reminder about not judging a book by its gently used cover. After I had made my choices, Clara sent me down the sweeping staircase where someone else would be helping me with my purchase (they don’t call it buying underwear). I knew I was in the right lingerie shop when two rather unkempt men who looked like perhaps they had not had time to bathe that day asked my counter girl for the brand new catalog that they had heard was out, being as they wanted to start shopping for their girlfriends for Christmas and all. Alas, the catalog had not been delivered yet but the counter girl was very nice about it. It’s always good to shop in a place where such diverse people share a discriminating love of quality. As she rang me up, I noticed that the very sweet counter girl wore heels that, if I had been her mother, I would have warned her would irreparably harm her feet. But I didn’t say anything. That’s the fun of Victoria's Secret in a town where you don’t know anybody and nobody knows you. It’s kind of like a brief encounter on a holiday – no commitments, no judgments, no regrets. Except perhaps when you get that love letter from your credit card company. |
||||
|
Sounds like you have a super time!!!! You go gal!!!!!!
| |||
|
Woohoo! Loved your story. Sounds like you had a great time. I have a passion for pretty lingerie, too. Like you I tend to wear casual, comfortable clothes but underneath I love my pretty, feminine, lace, silk, and satin!
| |||
11/14/2010 2:11 pm |
LOL, Road.....I don't shop at Vic's any more....can't stand the panties up the crotch either. And they don't seem to have my bra size any more now that I am older and "more filled out". Can't stand the underwire bra either, and that seems to be all you can find any more. Maybe I will go back to "no underwear" at all again.....NOT!! Miss AneMac.....Edible crotchless panties??? Do they still make such things....oh, to be young again...hohum... 
|
×
×