Stylish Person

Onе thing I’ve learned in all my years dealing with half-naked females is that most £ women aren’t happy with the way they look. No matter what, there’s always some­thing that makes us feel inadequate—we’re not thin enough, attractive enough, smart enough, rich enough, loved enough. Such image and self-esteem issues keep us from feeling positive about ourselves—or only feeling good when we get complimented or praised by someone else. When you buy lingerie that makes you feel better, you start to take life by the horns. No more sitting there like a lady-in-waiting, hoping that somebody will come by, scoop you up, and whisk you off to the life you always dreamed about. And though lingerie may seem like a frivolous indulgence to some, it’s actually a realistic way to take control of your life and happiness. Buying the right lingerie is no small, insignificant step. After all, it’s not superficial to address the very issues that eat away at you. In that regard, lingerie is cheaper than therapy. And as far as I’m concerned, lingerie is therapy.

The transformation begins with an assessment of your current inventory of intimates. Are your underwear drawers overflowing, yet you often find yourself with nothing to wear? A drawer stuffed with things—full of possibility, or so you think—can easily trick you into thinking you have everything you need. You might ask yourself, “How can I justify buying more when I already have so much?” Or, “Why buy another demy bra when I don’t wear the one I have?” Not to get too philosophical, but the answer is in the question. Maybe you don’t wear the things you have because something is wrong with them. Simply put, quantity does not equal quality. Do not be deceived by an excess of surplus goods.

Your First Task

Take all your lingerie and spread it out on the bed. Why? Because your personal stash probably needs some pruning. Its impossible to evaluate all your goods if you can’t see everything. Separate into cate­gories. Sort bras and panties by style, then by occasion (everyday or fancy), and, finally, by color. Classify every last thing, one thong at a time. Editing lingerie is easier than regular clothing because usually you only have to determine between things to keep and things to toss. There should be no maybes. No save-for-another-seasons. None of those but-it-might-come-back-in-styles.

Although every once in a long while you’ll come across a man who says that lingerie does little for him, most love it. It has played a big part in my own relationships. My ex-husband used to literally rip it off my body in the heat of the moment. That behavior became an expensive habit—which was another motive for me to open a shop of my own! Lingerie is beautiful, but it’s also symbolic—it calls attention to the very area it covers up. It hints at, but does not reveal, what is hidden underneath. It lets you show oft. . . yet only so much. It’s the ultimate tease. There’s a lot of mystery involved in lingerie—and I like to keep it that way, leaving something to the imagination. It’s so much more seductive to let a little lace peek out here or there, than to have everything hanging out. A boyfriend once said it perfectly when he told me, “Lingerie is like the curtain that separates the audience from the performance.”

Part of the allure is that lingerie is quintessentially female. Men don’t wear lingerie; they wear boxers or briefs. (Or maybe boxer briefs if they’re really stretching their imaginations.) On the other hand, lingerie has mul­tiple levels of meaning. It is both practical (providing protection for the body and shape under clothing) and sexual (highlighting physi­cal assets and desirability). But its implications are also, on a larger stage, both political and social. Trends in lingerie parallel the way society sees women, and the way they see them­selves. It’s no coincidence that when the birth control pill came out, women embraced their newfound sexual freedom by abandoning the restrictive girdles and garters of their mothers. Even the most functional purposes for wearing a push-up bra or a control garment are linked to society’s view of the ideal female form at any given moment. Can you imagine if male status was reflected in their personal choices (and the choices available) of underwear?