Have you ever gotten a real bra fitting? (The Secrets of Victoria don't count.)
Have you ever treated yourself to a perfectly fitted set of matching bra and underwear? And did you buy that set for yourself? Just for the simple pleasure of wearing something exquisite underneath even the humblest of get ups, regardless of who does - or doesn't - see it?
Buying lady-like undies is like committing to the finest dark chocolate or the deepest most delicious red wine or the crispiest french fries with ranch dressing on the side: worth the occasional extravagance.
I first visited the lingerie shop Coup de Foudre in DC a few years back. Immediately measured and proclaimed to be an entirely different size than what I walked in wearing, the sales woman had me try on bra after bra. We swam in a sumptuous pool of lace, bows, and trim, trying to narrow in on the brand that fit best.
She hit the bullseye with Chantelle. In the dressing room mirror, I wiggled in well-supported glee when I first tried on a delicate set of unlined French lace. Flush with cash from an extra fancy drawing commission, my wallet eventually cracked for four sets of Chantelle in blue, black, red, and nude.
You could say I took to it like a hog to mud.
I have returned for an occasional splurge since this orgy of undergarment fulfillment. When it comes to the clothing budget, there have been few purchases that make me feel so consistently wonderful as some really flippin' fly unmentionables. It's a silent statement of self confidence, a mysterious embrace of femininity.
Call it LF's Secret!