I've been window shopping for lingerie these days. By window shopping, I mean 'virtual' window shopping of course. Sri Lanka, although a large producer for one of the best lingerie marks in the world (ex: Victoria's Secret) does not host even ONE really good lingerie shop. I remember there used to be one, down Green Path which gave their not so very cute creations in very cute pink bags.
Anyhow, this latest window shopping spree is a direct result of one something I wrote about not too long ago. Something that I have not indulged in for far too long! SEX of course.
Perhaps the irony of someone who is so sexually inactive, shopping for sexy lingerie might be hard to grasp. But I doubt those who might unwittingly come across this piece of virtual space would be that naive.
Yet in a strange way, shopping for lingerie makes me happy. Even if it IS just 'window' shopping, even if I will not be able to afford any of the scrumptious sultry sexiness for a long time, even if I don't have anyone to admire them or take them off if I DID in fact possess them, it makes me happy.
Something about the curve of the cup, the shimmer of satin, the ruffles and bows, the pattern in the lace, the transparency of the material, just makes me feel good. Sometimes I picture myself wearing them, sometimes I simply admire they way they sit on the oh-so-perfect bodies of those special make of people called lingerie models.
When I come across a set that I would love to own, I don't see myself wearing it for anyone else, just admiring the beauty of a perfectly put together piece of underwear that I have the honour of wearing. Sometimes I try to imagine slowly shrugging off the silky strap while looking over my shoulder sexily to a stunning stranger. But that day dream stops there.
Whoever came up with the term 'underwear', is to me an idiot! Lingerie is never 'underwear', you might wear it under your clothes, but it should never be 'under'-estimated.
In fact, Chantal Thomass, who I think is the Coco Chanel of Lingerie, came up with the idea of 'Dessus Dessous' which means wearing underwear as outerwear. Why cover up something that is so well engineered? Why hide the elegance of a beautiful piece of lingerie? Unfortunately the answer to these questions lie in society and culture. Whereas this concept would be accepted in the fashion-forward, sexy society of La France. In most parts of the world, it would be frowned upon. But I would rather not get into this right now. I am too good a mood to do any culture bashing.
In fact, I think I'll get back to flicking the pages (internet pages of course - although I WOULD love a cataloue) of Victoria's Secret and dreaming of the days when I can afford to invest €200 on 'underwear'!
A bientôt
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