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.
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,
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 77th 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:
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/
Over a decade ago in a flourishing economy and with the media in tow, a term hijacked the popular culture and forced many men to define or to redefine themselves. The fashion industry banked on this phenomenon and envisioned a completely new male customer to sell to: the Metrosexual.
Metrosexual
Main Entry: met·ro·sex·u·al
Pronunciation: \ˌme-trə-ˈsek-sh(ə-)wəl, -ˈsek-shəl\
Function: noun
Etymology: metropolitan + -sexual (as in heterosexual)
Date: 1994
: a usually urban heterosexual male given to enhancing his personal appearance by fastidious grooming, beauty treatments, and fashionable clothes
— metrosexual adjective
— met·ro·sex·u·al·i·ty \-ˌsek-shə-ˈwa-lə-tē\ noun
I personally didn’t understand its relevance, or its attraction (and I still don’t; then again, I am European-born). I didn’t understand how it should define a new type of well-put-together American male, and subsequently many men globally. The concept of a clean aesthetic –some of its key characteristics: well-fitting clothes, stylish haircuts, toned skin, and weekly manicures – doesn’t reinvent the wheel in any shape or form. You may look more polished and perfectly groomed, but it doesn’t compare to the rugged American masculinity exemplified a generation earlier by Burt Reynolds in his 1972 Cosmopolitan centerfold.
(Burt Reynolds – 1972)
In retrospect, since the late 1970s and 1980s, fashion advertising began to blatantly objectify and to sexualize men. Fashion designers such as Gianni Versace and Giorgio Armani in Milan, Jean-Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler in Paris, Calvin Klein with his collaboration with the photographer Bruce Webber in New York, all, shamelessly heralded a new breed of polished beefcakes as the new ideal of masculinity. In these cases, the overtly homoerotic factor legitimized the style, helped push the frontier where no self-identifying straight male had dared to venture before. Burt Reynolds’ butch moustache and hairy chest were shorn and replaced by a fresh-face hair-less tight-body Adonis. A clean esthetic pursuit became the new Holy Grail… for gay males at first, then models and sport figures, and now the public at large.
(Giorgio Armani – 1986)
By the time “Metrosexual” arrived on the scene and was legitimized as a dictionary term in 1994, metrosexuality had become the new “black”. You couldn’t escape it, even if you tried; its omnipresence in the media was undeniable –talk show host Oprah Winfrey couldn’t get enough of men who fit either the metrosexual or ‘down-low’ bandwagon, and comedian Kathy Griffin even came up with a sketch-routine on finding out if your potential boyfriend was metrosexual or simply gay by peering into his fridge (Perrier, champagne, foie gras and caviar would send you to the gay gallows, except if European/foreign… would Canadians get a free pass?). Why was this term suddenly so important and given so much airtime? Beats me!
Historically, western-European men only began to ‘dress-down’ in the mid-19th century as a result of the industrial revolution, hence “the great masculine renunciation”. With their newly developed bourgeois uniform, gentlemen followed the pendulum of fashion, updating their “little black suit” and fastidiously tweaking themselves at the barbershop –where their heads, like topiaries, followed the constant changes in facial ‘manscaping’ of the day. Hands and feet, all beautifully accessorized, followed the well-polished trends. Self-expressions of style were done subtlety.
(Regnault – 1851)
Elegance was an obligation to any man worth his salt. Urbanites dutifully reeked, purchased and calculated elegance. After all, in the United States, great land of opportunities, the industrial revolution allowed many to successfully climb the social ladder regardless of prior birthright. The great taste-makers/dandies of the 19th century –Beau Brummel, Boni de Castellane, Edward VII of England, amongst others—led the way for Hollywood leading men like Douglas Fairbanks, Cary Grant, Gary Cooper, even John Wayne, to lead style onto the masses deep into the 20th century. This formula is still visible today, just open magazines in your dentist’s waiting room, check out blogs or iPhone applications… you still know who wears what, but now you know where to get it and for how much!
What has changed recently, with a large section of the male population, is a blatant disregard for boundaries and imposed labels. It is now much more difficult to tell who is what and to which group one is associated to, as styles favored by various groups now generously overlap. Generation Y (one of the largest components of this new consumer base: the under 30 group), like the youth-quake of the 1960s, is inducing change. But unlike the Youth Generation of the 1960s that thrived on modernity and social optimism, Generation Y and its neighboring groups all march to their own drums while ignoring the greater social picture. These perceivably “selfish individuals” are redefining the way the fashion industry approaches the male customer.
The current men’s collections in Milan and Paris exemplify this diversity and sliding scale effect of the current taste. Labels, such as “Metrosexual”, don’t seem to hold any relevance anymore. “Individuality” is now the new label, if not a label, an unrelenting state of mind.
(Ann Demeulmeester – 2011)
The latest Milan and Paris menswear collections presented a never-ending smörgåsbord of diversity, with a macadam of tailored looks varying from the traditional, directional to the sensational. Moneyed “Classic Resort” looks –what we think of when talking about chic men– graced many collections from Burberry, Salvatore Ferragamo to Hermès. Others experimented with colorful patterns/motifs, such as Roverto Cavalli, Kenzo and Missoni; Giorgio Armani, Jill Sander and Dsquared opted for separates in vivid hues. Dior Homme, Jean-Paul Gaultier and Raf Simmons reinterpreted the potential casualness of masculine suits by pairing tailoring with looseness; whereas, Ann Demeulmeester and Yves Saint Laurent spun around the traditional silhouettes. We shall see if the more extreme experimental looks of Balenciaga, Rick Owens or Raf Simmons will fancy the adventurous customers.
(Jill Sander – 2011)
On that note, Givenchy even dropped the “leopard” bomb with a well-turned suit entirely conceived from head to toe in leopard print.
(Givenchy – 2011)
Could a generation who grew up witnessing the changes of sartorial acceptability by selected sub-cultures (namely, Gay culture) and raised on the internet, be the litmus test for today’s democratic sartorial modernity? I would have to say yes. And frankly, it is about time, we have been waiting for you!
Written by: Stéphane Houy-Towner