By now, you may be aware I’ve been on the hunt for THE perfect strapless bra. It’s taken me some time, but I’ve finally reached my verdict. There is no such thing as a perfect strapless bra!
Well, with that finally “off my chest” (pun intended) we all know they’re a necessary evil. So one must ditch the fantasy and accept reality – and just get those bloody puppies strapped into the best strapless cubby one can find. Here’s how things went down for me (when I really wanted things to be on the UP!)…I headed off to #DavidJones. Alone. I was determined to take EVERY brand, regardless of price or label into that damn fitting room. I’m NEVER in the mood to get all my gear off in those freezing cubicles, no matter what time of the year, because here in QLD, they always seem to set the A/C thermostat to sub-zero. But it just had to be done, and if freezing erect nipples were the only casualty, then I could do it! I would simply soldier on.
trudged waltzed, laden with every brand from #Bonds to #Calvin Klein in sizes ranging from 10C to 12B. I was determined that I was going to come home with a bra, even if it killed me. I was committed. I was going to stay positive and upbeat. I was on a mission. I snuck past the door-bitch with at least a dozen bras in no fitting-room tag with the #4 on it. There was no way I was leaving the semi-safe refridgerated haven of the fitting room to ask for the next four. Pulleeease!
At this stage I really didn’t know much about the way your girls can miraculously be considered a D cup in a strapless, when you’ve always bought a B cup in a regular bra?! Go figure. (Hahah…get it? Figure?!) I struggled with the clasps. I mean seriously, I struggled with the clasps. I have very reduced sensation in my hands, and zero strength to boot, but I battled on. I tried them all on. And guess what. Not. One. Fitted. I kid you not. I won’t go into the expletives uttered during this expedition, but I will say the swearing gave me much-needed relief with each attempt. Let’s just say there were episodes of top-spilling (or muffin top if you like); side-boob; some simply fell straight down; another turned them into pancakes with a side of bruised ribs. Need I go on?
I left. Defeated.
Next step. An #Intimo Bra Party. I thought I’d surely find my holy grail there. Already a HUGE fan of the Dream Bra (with oil-filled inserts. It’s the ONLY one I wear) so I figured their strapless would be the answer. And even though the price was more than I could really afford, I figured it would be worth it to find the elusive Perfect Strapless Bra. The lovely consultant explained that in a strapless, I really needed to buy a size 8 – not a 12. And I needed a D cup – not a B. She hoiked those girls into a sample bra that, while not the exact one I would be purchasing, gave me a feel for what to expect from the right bra. Happy days! I totted off with my champagne to join Trish and the girls (not the ones that go in the bra – the ones that drink champagne with me and feel my pain) happy in the hope that I had finally found my perfect match and the search was over.
A few weeks later, it arrived. I was SO excited. But that excitement was short-lived. (See pic below). The top two photos are of the 15 plus year old bra I’m replacing (because even though it looks ok, it falls down if I put my arms up). The bottom two are Intimo. Check out how LOW my girls go! And the pancake-like cleavage. NOT what I was looking for. Thankfully, the lovely Intimo consultant happily refunded my purchase (and even paid for my return postage which was very much appreciated!). Note: I will still wear Intimo Dream bra every other day. It’s just for me and my weird boobs/size their strapless wasn’t the answer.
Disgruntled and desperate, I put another plea out on Facebook. This time I was directed to Victoria’s Secret and Simone Perele. Victoria’s was a no-go as we don’t have a store here, and given the fitting hassles I’d had, I figured buying online would really not work on this occasion. So I headed out to the DFO and embarked upon another search. I tried on bras in EVERY store along the way. The Simone Perele girl said they’d even alter the bra to fit me – but it was clear that even with altering, the cup wasn’t doing my girls any favours. I graciously declined. At my very last stop for the day (I can’t even recall the name of the store. It all became a bit of a blur by the end of the expedition). The lovely assistant whispered that even SHE doesn’t wear their own brand of strapless. And that the one she was wearing (and always wears) was from Bras ‘n Things. She swears by them.
I figured they must be good, because, well let’s just say, she had ample bosoms and to actually promote a competitor’s brand MUST mean something! SO, armed with that inside-info, the following week I headed off to Bras n’ Things at Indooroopilly and resumed my quest. And, I’m happy to say that with the help of a truly hilarious, honest and knowledgable consultant I finally settled on the closest thing I think I will ever find to the perfect strapless bra!
Is it perfect? Hell no. Is it comfortable? Do you really need to ask? But does it give me some semblance of a lift? Yes. And something that still resembles a cleavage? Yes. And does it stay up? Yes. And did it cost a small fortune? No. Only $49.99, so all in all, the closest to a win that I think I will ever find in The Strapless Olympics.
You’re welcome. And good luck “girls”!