Free Fallin’: To Bra or Not to Bra
I always said a man must have invented the bra. Who else would take pleasure in the torture of gazillions of women? Envision my disbelief when I learned the contrary: a woman invented and received the first patent on the modern bra! Really… I double checked my research on this bizarre newfound knowledge. I wanted it to be a man so we could blame HIM for our discomfort! HER name was Mary Phelps Jacob, a debutante from Manhattan, secretly producing the modern bra of her time under the alias of Caresse Crosby. Mary, dissatisfied and utterly uncomfortable in the corsets of her era, enlisted the assistance of her maid. Together, they created a bra made of handkerchiefs and ribbons pulled tautly. In 1914, Mary received a patent on her innovative design. Oh, how I dream of the handkerchief and bow bra days! Just the thought of a dainty hankie and frilly ribbons makes me a feel less constricted and a bit more free fallin’.
The high fashion of the 1920’s was epitomized by the flat chested flapper style and was not seen again until the 60’s. Whether it be the thought of daisies and sunshine or just pure hippy happiness, women began to feel the need to air out (so to speak). Manufacturers feared women would drop the bra completely so they advertised a new concept: bras that feel as if you are not wearing anything at all. What happened to these weightless bras? I suppose I was born a couple of decades too late.
Enter an unnamed “secret” lingerie shoppe complete with pink and white stripes. Is it the stripes that draw us in, hypnotized by sequins and lace and a promise to add 2 cup sizes? I have to admit that wearing these awful creations are akin to wallowing in barbwire. My momma always said you have to suffer to be beautiful but either maturity or plain common sense calls me to comfort. This same unnamed underwire and padding lair promised me all day comfort in a t-shirt bra. Umm….Liars! It was the pink and white stripes that made me spend $50 plus on a bra that was filled with empty promises of comfort and perk simultaneously. I guarantee you: comfort and perkiness do not breed and make happy baby bras. In my little bubble, there is discomfort and lift; discomfort and support; discomfort and coverage and what I like to call free fallin’.
I ask you, modern women, what are we to do? Stalk like drones to the hypnotic pink and white stripes and the quest for mountainous peaks? Or take a cue from Tom Cruise in “Jerry McGuire” and sing at the top of our lungs I’m Free Fallin’? What side of the underwire are you on? To bra or not to bra?