Last week I begrudgingly made the trip down to Nordstrom to get a pair of boots repaired. It wasn’t until I got down there that I realized how deprived I feel having not purchased a thing since last fall. These old duds are not getting “newer.” I have found that clothing, unlike wine, doesn’t get better with time. I can attest to that fact with my patched up jeans. When I say “I can wear clothes” I mean it. I own a mail and gift shop here in Seattle and my job is physical. My clothes experience some wear and tear. I guess I never realized it as much as I do now that I can’t just replace my old things with new ones. Which brings me back to my story.
So, I’m in Nordstrom having my boots repaired and my eyes start to wander. I was like a biggest loser contestent standing at a counter full of fresh baked goodies dripping with chocolate. Here’s what I saw, in case you have been locked up in your house for six months afraid to step foot in a store. Brights, stripes, ruching, asymmetrical pleats, skinny jeans and feminine eighties stuff. Anyway, the experience made me dizzy and sweaty. Feeling the panic rise I got out of there as fast as I could, but not without a longing glance at the Brass Plum shop.
Walking briskly down the mall toward the parking garage I suddenly realized that I could zip right into the Victoria Secret store. No guilt (underwear is kosher on this diet), no panic, pure underwear pleasure. I dove into the store… and what to my wondrous eyes should appear? A sea of color, satin and lace. I would have nuzzled my nose in the stack of panties fanned out on the table if it weren’t for the crowds. What a joy, what a relief what a magical place a panty store can be! Who knew?
Well, needless to say I stayed in VS far longer than I had planned. I touched, inspected and fondled every piece of everything there. Once tactically and visually satisfied I slapped down my $25 in exchange for five pairs of new panties. I bought a bright pink number, a black and pink lacey thing, a straight up black pair of briefs and a crazy bright candy striper kind of thing and a leopard print pair that is sure to make my husband go wild. It was glorious!
But… I did notice something strange. I normally wear a size medium underwear, occasionally a large (for good measure). But it seems, in the last year, underwear has gotten bigger. Hmmmm. Vanity sizing in underwear? It seems the old large is the new small.
Anyway, sizing aside, I feel fresh, confident and updated in my new undies. My only regret? I can’t wear them on the outside of my jeans.
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True, but next time you get a hole in your jeans, we’ll have a nice view of your fancy knickers at the very least!
I’ve also noticed underwear getting bigger and Victoria’s Secret seems the worst offender. It happens with bras too. I am a B anywhere else but a C there and here is my theory on that: If you can convince the Bs that they are Cs then you are also convincing the As that they are Bs. If I were an A I wouldn’t even wear (read: purchase) a bra so implying that A-cup women actually need B’s opens up a whole new market. And that doesn’t even touch upon the women (and probably a host of young teens and preteens) with no boobs whatsoever who are now being conned into buying A-cups. But back to the underwear….even the size XS at Victoria’s Secret makes me feel like I should be carrying along another person back there. I have recently switched to American Apparel (where every other article of clothing is cut way too slim for me) and their underwear fits great. I highly recommend it for small/flat-assed chicks!