Updated: Sep 24
Granny bought a new bra today and as she unwrapped it, closely studied its construction.
Why I hadn't studied it more closely before I don't know. It's not as if it was a different style to my usual. It is my usual and I've been wearing it for years and years! Maybe it's the colour. I usually choose white or black but for a change I thought I would 'do different' as they say in Norfolk and buy flesh-colour.
I have always been aware that this style of brassiere is a highly complex piece of construction, so much so that I always refer to them as my 'Boadicea bras' simply because they rather resemble what I imagine an armoured chest piece, constructed in metal would look like. That said, although not exactly riveted together, they are still not remotely glamorous but they do the trick and give me a secure and pleasing shape.
I should love to have graced the odd glamorous occasion when I was younger and able to wear sensuous plunging bras of satin and lace but given my mundane style of living, think my 'sensible' affordable choice has been for the best. Besides I can't see myself ever being able to afford Peller and Rigby or any other top-notch under-garments at around £100 a pop (if you'll pardon the expression), so I don't think I'll be changing over any time soon.
Anyway, on much closer inspection, bra construction is it seems, somewhat akin to industrial engineering (and personal body-armour) what with hoist, lift and separation.
Roughly sixteen pieces of fabric, strap-rings, adjusters, fastenings and bows all matched and joined seamlessly but with seams (if you know what I mean?).
They are 3-D jigsaw puzzles of endless sizes, colours and materials all constructed so carefully as to be non-rubbing next to the skin. Quite a feat don't you agree?