Time for a "Change"

Women who depend on bras for support realize that when the garment feels unnoticeable on one's body, it has likely lost its effectiveness. I got the message from a three-way mirror, and put replacement somewhere in my Errand Brain—months ago.

Walking by the lingerie boutique Change on last Sunday afternoon, a 40% off sign beckoned, and in I went, remembering that my friend Susan especially likes the brand. Those of you who wear Change know their sizing is proprietary, and nothing like any other brand. A conventional C becomes an F in their system— is this vanity sizing run amok? I have a friend who's an F and there is no way, in the usual universe, I am too.

The fitter put me in a bra so tight that I looked like a trussed chicken in a yellow straitjacket and pronounced it perfect. ("Perfect" is the millennial's sales buzzword now.) "How does that feel?" she asked. I could not speak.

Change "Dita"

She grudgingly permitted one band size larger, and, now able to communicate my approval, I re-upped, in all senses of the word. Later, on the subway, I sat across from a woman who, though not big-busted, was at past 4 p.m. on the intimates clock, and I thought, Buy a new bra! I remembered a now-defunct company's ads stenciled on New York sidewalks: "From here, it looks like you could use new underwear."

I got to thinking about how buying lingerie is a purchase that's so easy to put off. If it's only you you're pleasing, you might decide to wait for a sale, and then forget about it. If anyone else admires you en déshabillé, that person is probably more attentive to your charms than the function. But one day you see yourself in a top and think, "There's something funny about the cut of this"—but, it's the underpinning.

I did a little checking after I brought the Dita home, and found women hold opposing opinions about Change bras; I'll see how this one holds up. I also reordered my usual black and nude Olgas, because thanks to my online customer order history, I saw just over a year had passed since my last purchase.  

A few friends are lingerie collectors who delight in building a raffish assortment, but I won't drop $400 on a wisp of La Perla. Occasional indulgence with French lace happens, but my everyday are in the Change category, there to do ten hours' work while looking pleasantly pretty.

I said the other day to Le Duc, "There is a point when 'broken in' passes into 'shabby'." (I was reminding him to replace a decrepit pair of shoes, another thing that can feel so comfy, but be shot.)

I've heard that as our bodies change, getting re-fitted is important; some online sites recommend every six months. It will be an improvement for me to simply keep abreast of the state of my lingerie's elastic.

As built-in reminder to turn that new lingerie leaf, I've chosen May Day, an apt occasion to keep up the front, and go forth uplifted.