What to do with lingerie?

Posted by Ann Evans in Uncategorized | 0 comments

“I’m forty years old, and I never knew what to do with this stuff,” said Stephie after trying on a teddy and a long slip that had been part of my mother’s trousseau. My mother was married in the early 1930’s, and her family was wealthy enough to provide her with the best of everything. It is a peach set, made of silk that feels almost like taffeta. I have not seen, or felt, silk like that before. Do they still make it?

The teddy has thin spaghetti straps, with a bustline that was custom shaped to fit my mother, who was 6 feet tall, but weighed 120 pounds when she married. Her bone structure looked good wearing 120 pounds, she wasn’t emaciated. Only my younger brother inherited her figure, and her distaste for sweets (which perhaps explained why she was always so thin). I am also thin, but more buxom.

The three or so inches of lace across the top of the garments is of a delicacy that is hard to describe, the interstices between threads of the lace are tiny. The back of the teddy is joined to the front by two tiny buttons in the crotch. The stitching is all done by hand, and the lace was probably made by hand as well. The garments are works of art.

They don’t fit me, but Stephie is quite tall and very thin, like my mother, so she asked if she could try them on. They fit perfectly, except the straps were too long. She handed them back to me.

“The first thing you do is ask your boyfriend to undo those two little buttons,” I laughed, fingering the half-inch button, which fit into a button hole which had been delicately sewn by hand.

Stephie blushed and laughed. “I would never have thought of such a thing before, but that is exactly right. Put your foot up on the bed and say, ‘Honey, could you undo these buttons for me?'”

“I think you should have these. You’ll know what to do with it.”

The lingerie is of such delicacy and beauty that she declined for the moment, but she’s thinking about it. I’d like somebody to have it who will get her lover to undo those buttons. Or maybe when she’s putting on the teddy, she should ask him to fasten the buttons. That way, he’ll have them on his mind the whole evening.

Come on back and pick them up, Stephie.

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Life went on

Life went on again after Daring to Date Again: A Memoir ended, so I began this wide-ranging blog about life as a writer and as a woman in the early 21st century, especially as an older woman.

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