Never did I think I would write an ode to the girdle. The girdle was a right of passage. If you were grown up enough to wear stockings, you wore a girdle. Garter belts were for—well— trollops. Imagine encasing 16-year-old flesh in elastic. A crime against nature!
I'm not sure the last time I wore a girdle. I doubt if it was beyond freshman year in college. The bra went next. Did you smell all that burning rubber?
Last week, after the purchase of a Helmut Lang sheath dress, I decided to try a "body shaper" (i.e. girdle) and was amazed at the results. A sheath is not a shape that matches my curves. Let's face it, there are a lot more bends in the road than there used to be. My Marilyn Monroe brand (did Marilyn even wear a girdle?) pull-on lycra-spandex waist-to-thighs number not only compressed the lumps and bumps, it made me stand taller and feel more "dressed". Sitting, eating, all those good things were not affected. Strange to say, I felt like a lady.
Like gloves and stockings and hats, I'm glad the girdle is a choice and not required. Fashion today is freedom of expression and freedom of compression!