Bra Manufacturers… can we talk?
I’d like to refer you to Exhibit A, as shown below. That’s my bra. To be more precise, that’s my bra which I purchased approximately four weeks ago.
As you will see, all is not well in the world of my bra. The evidence for this? Well, it can be seen quite clearly in the sharp, spiky, absolute-bloody-agony-when-it-sticks-out-of-your-bra-and-into-your-tit wire protruding from the left cup.
Now, you know far more about the bra manufacturing process than I do, but I’m sure you will agree that one’s erstwhile friendly and cooperative bra suddenly morphing into a weapon of pain and destruction is really rather less than ideal.
The problem is that this is very much not a one off. In fact, if I cast my mind back to the bras I’ve taken into my home over the last – ooh, almost thirty years – I’m hard pressed to think of a single one which didn’t suffer from the same affliction. (Except for possibly my Tammy Girl crop tops. I miss those bad boys.)
I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s all down to user error. I can kind of understand this. I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to taking care of clothing, particularly on the laundering and drying front. The once size 10 maxi dress which now doubles as a marquee (I am the only person ever who has managed to GROW clothing rather than shrink it during the washing process) would be a case in point.
BUT… when it comes to my bras, I could not be more gentle. This one has basically been washed in the tears of angels and dried using the eyelashes of unicorns since I first removed its labels. And STILL the bastard thing has turned on me, in less time than it’s taken me to remember to renew my car insurance.
Perhaps you’re thinking that it’s down to my choice of design. Maybe I should consider a style of bra which doesn’t involve any of that pesky lacerating underwiring. Well, I’m a bra size 32F. Let me tell you now, that with a bra size like that, when you find ANY bra in that size, you grab it and you never let go. Exactly like Kate and Leonardo on the Titanic. Except she totally failed on the ‘never let go’ bit, what with the whole ‘dropping him into the frozen Atlantic’ and all that.
I digress. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, when a 32F bra does pop up, either in the lingerie section online or in a real life shop, I am all over that bad boy. Wires or no wires. I’ve got my kids so well trained to sniff them out, they practically shout out “House!” when they catch a glimpse of a 32F. Bottom line is: I don’t tend to get the choice as to whether I’d like my breast tissue lacerated. If the bra fits, as they say, I wear it. Whether that’s with laceration as an optional extra or not.
And what I’m thinking is, in this age of technology… there must be another way. We can make cars that drive themselves. Heating systems that you can irritate your partner with and turn off when you’re fifty miles away. Some disembodied lunatic called Alexa who will order you a Chinese takeaway without you even knowing that you want one. Surely… surely… we can find a way to make a bra which doesn’t double up as a torture device?
Why am I so convinced? Well, we just have to take a look at men’s underwear, don’t we. I’m no expert in the world of boxer shorts and Y fronts, but I’m fairly certain that it’s possible to buy underwear that supports your testicles without simultaneously gouging a great big hole out of the side of one of them. And that’s all I’m really asking for. Equal underwear opportunities, for both boobs and balls. I know you can do it.
With love, IKINTST xxx