Bra shopping: I have loved it, hated it, spent more money than I should on expensive ones at Henri Bendels, and recently sought out the cheapest at Target or The Gap. Being a born again Recessionista, I thought that kind of money ($200 or more) better spent on an array of t-shirts and jeans from American Apparel, a dozen international fashion magazines, dinner at Whole Foods for a week or the occasional indulgence of a cab ride.

And while most women have to buy new bras over the years to keep up with changing breast size and shape, I’ve been lucky enough to wear the same size I first fit into at age 13. Which is another way of saying I have the same flat as a wall, barely-there boobies 17 years later.

I spent most of my life hating my prepubescent chest and avoiding body conscious shirts and dresses because I would look like a boy on the tops and “pregnant” (as I was called at least four times in my life) on the bottom.  Then New Years Eve 2009 I decided to do something radical: I put on a skintight dress.  That it took three bras, one strapless padded, one regular padded, and jelly inserts, to make it work didn’t matter. It worked so well that, something I had always thought shallow and trashy – the boob job – became my new obsession. But like a bad trend, about ten days and 10 Victoria’s Secret push up bras later, this phase thankfully came to an end.  I was over it and the so were the bras, which were stuffed in the garbage thus erasing all evidence.

“Something I had always thought shallow and trashy – the boob job – became my new obsession.”

About two months ago, at age 30, my belief that the only things that mattered in a bra was that it had a hook, was under $20, and didn’t dig into my chest with underwire was challenged. My fashion career had taken off. With requisite TV appearances, designer interviews and fashion videos there were many times I found myself changing clothes in rooms with no privacy.  My favorite flamboyant beauty and hair experts Taymor and Hector consistently commented about my bad bra choices: ongoing jokes that were made even funnier because they were completely warranted.

Fashion designers, friends, and family also began to make subtle comments about my undergarments. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when Taymor, in the middle of doing my makeup suddenly stopped, stepped back and taking a full look head to toe exclaimed,

“Sarah, What is up with your bra? It’s not doing anything for you! It’s too small, too tight and does nothing for your torso. Get some padding. You need a bra that gives you some POW like a cartoon goddess: think Jessica Rabbit.”

Fighting with and avoiding the bra situation was no longer going to fly so I decided to take action.  I asked if anyone knew a good bra store and the feedback was unanimous: “Go to Bra Smyth on Broadway at 77^th Street”. Despite feelings of apprehension, I shyly entered the store and explained to the woman who greeted me, Fahima, my situation: I had never bought a bra that actually fits.  In response, she simply smiled and signaled me to follow her to the dressing room. She walked in behind me, shut the door, and said, “Take it off.”  I had flashbacks of when I first went to the bra store and had to take off my shirt in front of a salesgirl, but this time I was much less timid.  I stood in the dressing room in nothing but a pair of cut-off shorts and RayBans while she walked slowly around me staring at my torso the entire time.

Within about 30 seconds, she left the room saying only, “I’ll be right back”. About two minutes later she returned holding six bras of varying styles, shapes, cup and width sizes. I was rather incredulous: how could this woman possibly figure out the best bra for my body without asking me my size or even measuring my chest? She insisted that I start trying them on, and with nothing to lose, I took the first bra from her and hooked myself in.  I immediately went into shock:

“Oh. My. God.  Did she really do it? Is she a magician? Am I really wearing a bra that is flattering, comfortable and actually fits my body?”

Fahima quickly diagnosed and described why I had experienced such difficulty with bra sizes and shapes and then identified all of the bras in her store that would best fit my body and why. She handed two bras to the seamstress in the back of the store for alterations: one needed to be wider so she moved the hook, and one was beautiful but had zero support so she inserted some padding.  I had never heard of bra alterations before and it seemed like it could be hassle but was completed within minutes and best of all it was FREE.  She worked like a scientist, observing and getting everything exactly right. She reassuringly added, “No two bodies are the same…I have the same shape as you do,” making the process a lot less uncomfortable and even a little exciting.  I walked up to the cashier where she had laid out all of the bras we had selected: four black ones, two white ones, a nude tone, four lace bras, and one strapless.  In less than an hour she managed to solve my lifelong battle with the bra.

The first thing I did when I got home was throw out every bra I ever bought making room for my new bras. I was starting a new chapter in my life leaving behind the bad bras and the bad feelings.  I never really realized how important a bra is to the overall outfit until I actually had the “right” one: one that fits. Now that I do, my only regret is that I didn’t go to a bra specialist sooner.

Bra Smyth Broadway
2177 Broadway
(corner of 77th St.)
NY, NY 10024
212.721.5111
http://www.brasmyth.com/