Of lacy underthings and rewriting history

My parents sent me a relatively sizable check (cheque, for my Canadian readers) for my birthday. Due to the increasingly ragged state of my undies and bras, I decided to blow the entire amount at the online catalogue for Victoria's Secret. We don't have VS here in Canada...some American conspiracy designed to keep Torontonians driving to malls in Buffalo to do their lingerie shopping, no doubt. I make a point of stopping into one of the stores every time I am in the states, because the lingerie stores here just don't come close.

I restrained myself admirably, purchasing some very practical cotton bras that were on sale and some silky thongs that were also on sale. My one splurge was a new Angel's bra. It is pretty and lacy. One of the undies match it, so I look coordinated too! I wanted to buy a merry widow, but practicality won out.

My purchase arrived on Thursday and I immediately tried on all the bras. Seriously, I tried them on without even going upstairs to the bedroom. Just unwrapped them and slipped them on right in the dining room. New lingerie waits for no man! Everything fit perfectly. Then I went upstairs to admire my lace and satin enclosed breasts and to try on the matching panties. Good times.

Victoria's Secret and I have some history. The original store was opened on Union Street in San Francisco back in the 70s minus the apostrophe. Victorias Secret was a tiny boutique, not much larger than a walk-in closet. The guy who owned it stocked the most luscious silk teddies and garter belts etc. I discovered it in the 80s, when I was working in retail. Owning sexy lingerie and wearing under your power suit was de rigeur back in those days. My first purchase was a black silk and lace teddy. It barely fit me at the time which made it even naughtier. It resided in my underwear drawer long after I could squeeze into it, because how do you toss out your very first extravangent lingerie purchase?

VS was bought out by The Limited, who promptly rewrote history, claiming that Victoria was a naughty English beauty. They even created a false London address for the company, to give it that international cachet. I used to make a point of informing the youthful salepeople what a crock it all was; how Victoria was really a guy named Roy who had a store in SF. They seemed unimpressed. I don't really know why I bothered, except it seemed important to me that history be honoured. Especially since it was an important part of my history.

The Limited got over themselves and stopped pushing the English rewrite. They just went back to focusing on pretty, sexy lingerie. For a chain they do a damn good job. I miss the original store sometimes, but it was purely a special event sort of purchase back in those days. I like that now I can justify pretty underthings for every day.

And so does my sweetie.