Lingerie Nightmares

There is a lot to celebrate about lingerie, a hell of a lot, but I have also been struck recently, by items of lingerie, which have stood out in my lifetime, as abject failures- Lingerie Nightmares. I have picked out 3 of these from my list, 2 of which I've had the misfortune to have worn and 1 I've not yet succumbed to.

I want to begin by talking about underwear and poppers girls. And no, I'm not referring to the time you ran out of the club, high on Amyl Nitrate, clad only in your french knickers and heels. If i want my pupils (and more besides) to dilate and to experience an euphoric rush every time I put on lingerie, I'll remortgage and buy shares in Agent Provocateur. No, I am, of course, talking about Bodies.

Do you remember the rise and fall of Bodies? They seemed to answer so many prayers at the time didn't they? They were all in one, stretchy, comfy and with the minutest of click, click, clicks, they were ready to go. Except the apparent ease of "popping" was not actually easy at all. You either had to contort your legs out of all recognisable shape, as though you had spent the last year on a very wide horse, whilst at the same time, head down, eyes focussed, like a concerned ostrich OR pull the base of the body so far down that you risked either pulling it out of shape or accidentally letting go and having your eye taken out swiftly by a rogue popper.

And then they were gone. Charity shops filled up with them as quickly as they filled up with other redundant articles, like video tapes, records and miniature stone cottages.

But, my own theory for the demise of this particular Lingerie Nightmare, is that deep down in the psyche of every woman who had ever bought one, was a memory, an image, of the only other article of cothing with poppers around the crotch-the babygrow.

Next on my list-the unforgiving, suspender belt from hell. I remember some of the first suspender belts I ever wore. They were pretty and flimsy and feminine and all that I could ever want-until I put them on. There was no give, no elastic, no lycra. Devoid of the slightest possibility of stretch, if you had dared put a pound or 2 on, they acted as a kind of lingerie stomach strangler, turning anything but a flat tummy into a suspender belt belly bagel, cutting off the possibility of ever sitting down without being sliced into 2 and leaving you with a lovely red chafe mark that took days to fade away.



Both Bodies and Suspender Belts from Hell I have personally experienced, but my last Lingerie Nightmare has evaded me thus far. I wake up screaming some nights from an actual nightmare, where I have actually bought these and willingly worn them too. I am, of course, referring to the Sunday Supplement White Bras. You know what I'm talking about, and perhaps they are your nightmare too. You know the ones, the shapeless, tasteless, creepy bras with endless panels. Panels for your cocoa and your slippers, panels for everything and they just go on forever and they make me want to turn and run, crying in horror. Maybe it's because, like death, I know, that they are coming for me and that, sooner or later, I will give in, give up, forgo femininity and cuteness and prettiness and sexiness and taste and colour and ribbons and bows and lace and all manner of important things like that, heave a huge sigh of relief and mouth the word "COMFY".



But I will make a vow of sisterhood here. I will rage against the dying of the lingerie and, if I ever, ever, wear this last item, feel free to ship me off to the Netherlands and administer a sleepy,sleepy drug to my clearly addled mind and body-for there is nothing left to live for.

Jilly xxx

Spring into Lingerie

I was going to begin this blog post with something like, "As Winter turns into Spring", or "As the cold weather finally leaves us behind", but that is plainly ridiculous. Now-once all you girls have picked yourself up off the floor and stopped laughing, maybe I'll try a different tack.

 

This damn Winter looks as if its going to hang on in there for as long as possible, but, at some point it will fade away and we will need to stop being in denier denial and address our Springtime Hosiery needs.

 

Now, floaty summer dresses, silky stockings, and, in fact, any clothing that does not cover every inch of my body several times around is just as unthinkable as seeing a round,yellow orb in the sky right now. If truth be told, my lingerie of choice these last couple of months has been a lace-edged balaclava complete with suspender straps holding up my industrial strength chest-high woollen tights, with a rather fetching neckline. I have the cast of Emmerdale shearing everything in sight to keep me in woollens.

 

But, as hard as it is to believe, the days will get longer and, eventually warmer and the morning will come when you will cast off your winter things and feel an overwhelming urge to run, clad in skimpy nothingness, onto meadows, beaches, manicured lawns,etc.. and I sympathise,I really do.

But, like the groups of lads who feel one sunny day equates to the absolute necessity of walking down the High St. bare-chested-is this wise? 

Now is the time to think about investing in all the fabulous tights and stockings you've missed out on in this endless Winter and save the bare legs for days when they wont go blotchy or dry. Didn't your Mum tell you that if you go from your Duffel Onesie to cavorting naked in meadows, you will almost certainly catch a cold.

  

No, leap into Spring with legwear fit for the purpose of showing it off-give yourself a reason to dress for the season.

That's all for me. I'll be back soon with the thorny subject of Burlesque

Jilly

xxx

Burlesquery

I have a confession to make. I am in two minds about Burlesque. I know that since it has been elevated to popular icon and all-round art form, that sisters have been bumping, grinding and generally doing it for themselves, wrapping themselves around Poles and other assorted eastern Europeans this last decade.

 

If I cast my mind back to-well, lets just say, slightly younger than I am now, it was Madonna who, most famously promoted the whole underwear as outerwear phenomenon. Who could forget the traffic cones and Great Aunt Maud's corsellete. Pantygirdles, once the automatic go to of an entire generation and spurned by anyone who was forced to endure watching their mothers inserting themselves into one, were now de rigeur.

 

But I digress, slightly, into the topic of another blogpost, that of vintage lingerie.

 

Burlesque is everywhere. It is steamy, sexy, wonderfully empowering and confidence boosting. But, am I wrong in wanting my sexy underwear kept as my own secret and whoever I care to show it to?  To preserve the mystique and the power behind sexuality, behind hot, seductive femininity, without having to Von Teese my cleavage and derriere everywhere.

 

And another thing. Pasties. Any fashion trend anywhere that gives us the name "Pasties" ought to be condemned. For those not in the know, Pasties are self-adhesive discs that you place over your nipples whilst engaging in Burlesquery- to preserve ones modesty. Dont make me laugh. if I want to preserve my modesty, I'll climb under the quilt. No amount of Swarovski crystals and tassels will convince me to put Pasties on my almost naked body. Having said that, Pasties of a Cornish persuasion have been known to crumble and turn up in my cleavage from time to time.

 

Despite my misgivings-Burlesque is a revolution and a revelation. It is a celebration of womanhood, but only if you want it. if you dare to bear less then dare to Burlesque. No lingerie store these days is complete without a racier range and they are often fantastically hot. Just looking at them and imagining myself in them empowers me to do all kinds of (un)imaginable things.

 

A woman in complete charge of her sexuality is a formidable thing.

Jilly xxx

The Wonder of Stockings

I've come across a couple of surveys recently, where they have asked women to name the item of clothing that most sums up femininity for them. You may or may not be surprised to hear that number one in the girly stakes is the bra. Now, for me, that has always been my answer. Not that I have people knocking on my door with clothing-related femininity questionnaires daily. It's just solidly above any other item. Sure, I can dazzle and spin on my heels, I can swish and float and stun with the right dress and my personal obsession with babydoll nighties certainly takes some beating.

 

However, a bra, to me is femininity. It supports, cups, adorns, decorates, frames, reveals, displays,looks after, celebrates, and altogether reminds me of what it feels like to be a woman.

 

BUT-if the question had been , which item of clothing most sums up sexiness, well, I think that would have received a very different answer indeed. I dont know what you think, but there is only 1 answer as far as I am concerned that is stockings For as long as I can remember, whether it be a personal memory or feeling or one from television, film, magazine or book, those humble gossamer coverings scream sexiness.

 

They have reached iconic importance-think about it. They feel so sexy, whether from the slightly increased pressure at the top of a hold up or the tug of suspender strap from every single stride or movement. The Art of putting them on and taking them off is celebrated way above any other item of clothing.

 

They are the least expensive but the most wildly desired item of clothing. Men lose all sense when faced with them and women are glamorous vixens, masterful seductresses, homespun burlesque performers, cheeky teasettes, all-round, glorious, uber coquettish displays of POWER.

 

putting stockings on can be a sexual ritual, a private dance or a deliberate act of intent, but there is no way, no way at all to be neutral about stockings.

 

You know, the greatest thing about being a woman, is that you are free to try on not only the clothes that make you feel feminine or sexy, but the feelings, moods and personas that our clothes bring.