How to Build a Lingerie Wardrobe
When it comes to unmentionables, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice femininity for fit. Today’s best is both frilly and functional, beautiful and basic.
Certain things separate the women from the girls. Discretion–with your friends and, possibly, your lover–comes to mind. Juggling your three kids’ conflicting schedules, your husband’s business dinners, and your own career is another. Being able to nonchalantly rock a serious fur also takes a certain amount of womanliness. But for me, the detail that really divides us into two camps is lingerie. Real womanly women wear real lingerie. All the time. Even to pick up the kids at soccer practice. “Lingerie is one of those small precious items, like expensive cream. When I started buying it, I knew I was growing up,” says Jean Yu, whose ethereal made-to-order dresses from her SoHo boutique, 37 = 1, are complemented by her line of beautiful chiffon bras and panties.
I admit, I do not qualify as a woman who wears lingerie, but I really, really want to be one. Whenever I see a woman with a bit of La Perla lace sticking out from her Notify jeans or I stumble into a seriously chic friend’s bathroom, where all her hand-washed unmentionables are hung out to dry, I am impressed and envious. I’ve always yearned for a drawerful of Sabbia Rosa silk slips and camisoles, and now, with haute-couture-like lines from such companies as Nina Ricci, Courtworth, and the new Italian Rosamosario, the options have become more and more enticing. But I’m too lazy to hand-wash; and somehow I associate putting on pretty underwear in the morning with having to make just that much more of all effort, whereas throwing on a pair of white cotton panties takes zero thought.
I have vowed, however, to get my underwear situation in order. Why? It took an embarrassing moment to push me over the edge. Picture the dressing room at Jeffrey, with me trying on a $5000 velvet cocktail dress by Lanvin. I’m having trouble wiggling into it, so the salesperson comes in to help. There I am, half naked, with one of the season’s most gorgeous gowns stuck on my head, wearing only a pair of four-year-old slightly droopy, now dingy-white cotton panties. Utter mortification. It was then that I decided what goes on underneath is just as important as what goes on above (something my mother always did but somehow never rubbed off on me–though I never wear holey underwear, you know, just in case something happens). I decided to talk with a few women who had already adopted my new philosophy.
There’s the idea that if you’re a career woman, you have to be conservative, and if you’re a mother, you’re a frump. It’s important to feel good about your body, and lingerie is a great way of being in touch with it,” says Elle Macpherson, who has a sexy eponymous line of lingerie that launched in the States this past spring (and who, I might add, would look good in the saggiest of underwear). She adds, “Women should feel empowered by their sexuality.” Author and socialite Rena Sindi–who matches her lingerie to her clothes to such an extent that if she changes outfits before she heads out of the house, she also changes her underpinnings–agrees. “Lingerie makes me feel better, not in a raunchy way, but beautiful.”
To me, lacy, seductive lingerie has always meant scratchy, very noticeable-under-your-clothes underwear. I’ve since learned, however, that this is an old-fashioned way of thinking. “First, it’s important to be comfortable,” says Macpherson. “If it’s not, I don’t want to wear it. But comfort doesn’t have to mean boring.” High-tech fabrics have taken care of the ouch factor, but what about the dreaded VPL (since dental-floss-like thongs have lost their appeal)? “None of my knickers have elastic around the bottom, so there is no panty line,” says Macpherson. I have also heard raves about Hanky Panky’s seamless thongs that are more substantial sizewise than others; perhaps I should give them a shot. Sindi suggests I shop at Victoria’s Secret: “The bras fit really well, and it’s all about the fit. If I find a bra that fits, I buy one in every color.” I get so embarrassed thinking about walking into a Victoria’s Secret store–it is so “I am woman!”–but I’ve got to find the courage because I seem to be missing out.
I resolve to start from the beginning and build a good core lingerie wardrobe. I ask Macpherson what she would recommend. That’s when I learn about the one-plus-two or one-plus-three rule. I na?vely thought that if you buy a bra, you should buy the matching underwear, too. Apparently, that isn’t enough.
According to both Macpherson and Sindi, when you buy a bra, you should get the matching G-string, brief, and (if it exists) boy short. That way you have a few bottom options for each bra. It’s so logical I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before. And on this issue, Macpherson is insistent: “I believe in matching underwear, even if it’s your comfy bra. Wearing unmatched lingerie is like wearing one brown sock with one blue one. Why would you do it?” And speaking of color, choosing other shades besides nude and black is a quick way to update your lingerie wardrobe. “Basics don’t have to be beige anymore. Whether it’s moss green, teal, or aqua,” explains Macpherson, “colors are fun, and they lift the spirit.”
All in all, says Macpherson, my underwear drawer should be stocked with one molded-cup bra (for fitted sweaters and plungy stuff) with a matching boy short and G-string, and a demibra with matching briefs. Because my Calvin Klein Underwear T-shirt bra for everyday fits perfectly, I turn to Calvin for the molded one. I realize I already have a black lace La Perla demicup for evening, so I take it to the La Perla store to pick up another piece–this time a thong that will work with evening pants.
I think I can handle throwing in a little color, too, so I add another everyday bra with a panty and boy short in moss green from Elle Macpherson Intimates. And even though Hanky Panky doesn’t make a matching bra (sorry, Elle), I buy four of its stretch lace thongs, in black, white, ecru, and pink. They are actually quite comfortable. According to Macpherson, my final lingerie buy should be tap pants and a camisole. It is with this that I decide to sate my Sabbia Rosa craving. And because I can wear the camisole outside the confines of my home, under a tuxedo jacket or a little cashmere sweater, the $585 price tag seems a bit less dramatic.
Now my lingerie drawer looks much more, shall I say, grown-up, I’m sure my husband will appreciate me in something g besides white cotton. And knowing I can feel confident the next time I need help in a dressing room is priceless.
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- Posted in Common Questions
June 2nd, 2009 at 12:00 pm
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November 11th, 2009 at 3:54 pm
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