September 15, 2014

Corsets & Stories

A friend of mine and I were talking a bit about a possible clothing swap between like-minded ladies when the topic of corsets came up.  I have a variety of sizes currently, some too large, and some frustratingly too small, all of which high quality, steel boned waist shapers.  I had lost my local connection when the place I would go for them closed in the last year or so.  This is when she, the blasphemous vixen, told me about Corset Story.  It would seem that their regular retail prices are what you’d expect for their quality of work.  But, if you sign up for their mailing list, the velvet ropes drop, and you get invited to their super secret sales where you can get steel boned goodies for as little as $34.  

Short version of a long story, I now own this:

I tried it on as soon as I got home.  To my delight, I was right in second guessing the size I would need.  I ordered a step down from what I had originally suspected, and it’s perfect.  Wiggling around in front of my mirror, my favorite anecdote about corsetry in public came to mind, and I wanted to share.

There was a time a few years ago, when I lived in a part of the city where personality and originality is more liability than gift, I was feeling particularly sassy one Saturday.  I decided I was going to wear my then-favorite corset out to do my errands.  Granted, it was more the fashion type where the boning was plastic and didn’t do much by way of shaping my middle, but the sentiment was the same.  It had straps over the shoulders, and was full coverage, but it was fall, so I put a sleeveless shirt under it and paired it with some of my sassier jeans and saddle shoes.  Decked out in pigtails, I’m walking down the bread aisle at the grocery store.  I’m mostly immune to stares, having gotten them since I can remember.  Generally, I have to have someone tell me that there is a hole bored right through me because of someone’s eyes.  But, it was the stage whisper that caught my attention.

There was a young couple in the same aisle with me.  As I’m pushing my cart past them, he leans down to her, and in a hoarse voice said, “She wears one to the grocery store and you won’t even wear one in the bedroom!”.

I couldn’t control the eyebrow.  Sometimes, it truly does have a mind of its own.  And the left side of my mouth is such a follower.  Before I knew it, I was in full on smirk.  You wanna know why?  The gal in question was “perfect”; blonde, probably a size 6, and busty.  And here, before Pepperidge Farms and everybody, we discovered that it isn’t the body, it’s the attitude.  I had no intention of inspiring jealousy when I left the house that day.  I just knew I felt good, and walked a little taller as a result.  

The takeaway?  Everybody has their own amazing.  Confidence is sexy.

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