Read Online Raiders of the Lost Corset by Ellen Byerrum - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen Byerrum
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as exciting as eating oatmeal mush and wearing the box it came in? Do your undies make you feel strong and sexy? Courageous? Alluring? Or boring and dull, generic and suitable (barely) for everyday use?
A little-known (except by you, Stylish Reader) fact about underwear is that it can affect your mood, your confidence, your entire style. It is the secret language beneath your clothes. If it whispers to you, your confidence will shout to us.
And there is more to that secret language than the mundane statements of a jogging bra and baggy granny panties.
When it comes to lingerie, one set does not fit all. Different clothes may require different undergarments, but you also have maximum freedom in what is most concealed—concealed to everyone except to you. High-cut panties, bikinis, thongs in cotton, nylon, lace, or silk are not just a personal comfort decision; they’re a decision about your identity and attitude. Bras, whether strapless, underwire, eighteen-hour, racer-back, or pushup, not only cover but shape and uplift and determine how you look in that dress or blouse—and who you think you are.
That’s a lot to ask of such a small piece of fabric. Measured in oomph per ounce, your underwear can be more powerful than plutonium—or deader than the dodo.
Women in Washington, D.C., are accustomed to wearing business camouflage all day long, an endless array of gray and beige and black suits. One hopes their secret wardrobe beneath those suits is a little more exciting. Remember, underwear can say what your outerwear can’t say, and nobody has to know it but you. Others will feel it in your attitude. Don’t you just love keeping secrets? And isn’t it even more fun to whisper them in the right ear?
• Is your ferocious inner feline just roaring to stalk the jungle, but it’s caged inside your city-bound suit? Hunt down that leopard-skin spotted slip and matching bra and garters, and you growl , girl! Grrrr.
• Do you love that old-fashioned boudoir glamour, the silk nightgowns and robes you’ve seen in late-night movies, satin gowns cut on the bias that caress every curve, but despair of finding anything quite like it today? Check out vintage stores that carry exotic styles from yesteryear. Some even have “new” old lingerie, nightgowns, and robes from the Forties and Fifties with the original tags.
• Is all this beautiful stuff that no one but you will see too expensive? Wait for a sale—it’s worth it. Everyone, including Victoria’s Secret, has sales. Keep your eyes open and go early when the selection is the best, and you won’t have to go manicured mano a mano with the satin-maddened crowds swarming around the $5 bra bins after work.
In the eyes of the world you might have to look like someone who wears a boring suit, a uniform, scrubs, sweats, even judicial robes. But underneath it all, you can be who you really want to be in your underwear. And maybe we’ll even see it in the twinkle in your eye, and we’ll wonder: “What’s her secret today? Could it be . . . The Red Bra of Courage ?”
Chapter 6
Because the woman who had introduced her to Magda should not hear about her death secondhand, Lacey walked from the offices of The Eye to Stylettos at Dupont Circle, where Stella Lake held court with her scissors and shampoo bowl.
Lacey had spent the fifteen-minute walk trying to figure out how to tell her the awful news, but Stella took one look at her and cried out, “Oh my God, Lacey! Who’s dead?”
“Magda Rousseau.”
Stella dropped her scissors. “No! I just saw her last week. She looked totally healthy.” Her eyes began to moisten. “You know, for an unhealthy crazy old lady. Was it her heart?”
“I’m sorry.” Lacey hugged Stella’s shoulders. “I found her. Can we talk somewhere?”
Stella stood still in the busy salon as her eyes filled with tears.
Lacey couldn’t stand to see her friend cry; she was sure she would be crying herself in mere moments. She handed
A little-known (except by you, Stylish Reader) fact about underwear is that it can affect your mood, your confidence, your entire style. It is the secret language beneath your clothes. If it whispers to you, your confidence will shout to us.
And there is more to that secret language than the mundane statements of a jogging bra and baggy granny panties.
When it comes to lingerie, one set does not fit all. Different clothes may require different undergarments, but you also have maximum freedom in what is most concealed—concealed to everyone except to you. High-cut panties, bikinis, thongs in cotton, nylon, lace, or silk are not just a personal comfort decision; they’re a decision about your identity and attitude. Bras, whether strapless, underwire, eighteen-hour, racer-back, or pushup, not only cover but shape and uplift and determine how you look in that dress or blouse—and who you think you are.
That’s a lot to ask of such a small piece of fabric. Measured in oomph per ounce, your underwear can be more powerful than plutonium—or deader than the dodo.
Women in Washington, D.C., are accustomed to wearing business camouflage all day long, an endless array of gray and beige and black suits. One hopes their secret wardrobe beneath those suits is a little more exciting. Remember, underwear can say what your outerwear can’t say, and nobody has to know it but you. Others will feel it in your attitude. Don’t you just love keeping secrets? And isn’t it even more fun to whisper them in the right ear?
• Is your ferocious inner feline just roaring to stalk the jungle, but it’s caged inside your city-bound suit? Hunt down that leopard-skin spotted slip and matching bra and garters, and you growl , girl! Grrrr.
• Do you love that old-fashioned boudoir glamour, the silk nightgowns and robes you’ve seen in late-night movies, satin gowns cut on the bias that caress every curve, but despair of finding anything quite like it today? Check out vintage stores that carry exotic styles from yesteryear. Some even have “new” old lingerie, nightgowns, and robes from the Forties and Fifties with the original tags.
• Is all this beautiful stuff that no one but you will see too expensive? Wait for a sale—it’s worth it. Everyone, including Victoria’s Secret, has sales. Keep your eyes open and go early when the selection is the best, and you won’t have to go manicured mano a mano with the satin-maddened crowds swarming around the $5 bra bins after work.
In the eyes of the world you might have to look like someone who wears a boring suit, a uniform, scrubs, sweats, even judicial robes. But underneath it all, you can be who you really want to be in your underwear. And maybe we’ll even see it in the twinkle in your eye, and we’ll wonder: “What’s her secret today? Could it be . . . The Red Bra of Courage ?”
Chapter 6
Because the woman who had introduced her to Magda should not hear about her death secondhand, Lacey walked from the offices of The Eye to Stylettos at Dupont Circle, where Stella Lake held court with her scissors and shampoo bowl.
Lacey had spent the fifteen-minute walk trying to figure out how to tell her the awful news, but Stella took one look at her and cried out, “Oh my God, Lacey! Who’s dead?”
“Magda Rousseau.”
Stella dropped her scissors. “No! I just saw her last week. She looked totally healthy.” Her eyes began to moisten. “You know, for an unhealthy crazy old lady. Was it her heart?”
“I’m sorry.” Lacey hugged Stella’s shoulders. “I found her. Can we talk somewhere?”
Stella stood still in the busy salon as her eyes filled with tears.
Lacey couldn’t stand to see her friend cry; she was sure she would be crying herself in mere moments. She handed
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