So there’s this thing that happens to me a lot. I go into a shop. I try on a bunch of things that make me look weird and feel like crap. Then I’ll manage to find one thing that makes me look good. Filled with gratitude and relief, I’ll buy this one item at any price, without even considering whether I really want or need it.
It happened to me the first time I went to Bravissimo, when I bought the only thing that fit me, the Panache Melody. It’s a comfortable bra and gives good shape under clothes, but frankly I think it looks extremely hideous on me. The worst part? I could have bought three bras I’d really love on Brastop.com for the price of this one mediocre bra at Bravissimo.
Yesterday, I went to Bravissimo again, because I wanted to try on the Lola Luxe basque.
I’ve never seen a basque that came in a 28J before and the whole idea kind of excited me; it seemed sexy and fun. But I couldn’t really think of anything that I would USE a basque for. So when I went to try it on, I really just wanted to satisfy my curiosity, and see if it was any good.
Well, it IS good! It’s great. It looked awesome on me. I felt awesome. I reminded myself I didn’t need to own it, snapped a few photos, and went to try on the rest of the bras they brought me.
Some were okay. Most were quite hideous. I’ll share my feelings on those bras in later posts.
My disgust with how I looked in the hideous bras made me reconsider the Lola Luxe basque. I felt so pretty when I had it on! It made me feel good! I needed to feel good! I brought it out to the women working in the dressing rooms and said “I really like this, but I just don’t know when I would wear it.” Partly, I wanted them to talk me out of it. But partly, I wanted them to REALLY TALK ME INTO IT—make me realize how many uses I could get out of the product, inspire me. They didn’t really do that. They said stuff about how some people use it as shapewear, how I could wear it under a shirt, how it would last for years. I tuned them out. I figured at this point it would be rude to refuse to buy it. I bought it.
On my budget, this basque is NOT something that I can comfortably afford. So instead of feeling happy, like I’d treated myself to something luxurious, I felt stressed out, desperate to reassure myself that I hadn’t stupidly wasted my money. At the same time, I wanted to think of a reason to keep it, because I wish I had the sort of budget that would allow me to own this just because it looked good on me, and for no reason other than that.
Instead I keep trying to think of practical uses for it. I thought it might be good under tight shirts because it wouldn’t leave any bulges from the back band. Nope—the boning shows under shirts. Then, in a fit of insanity, I decided to CUT THE BONING OUT. I tried it on again with a shirt. The channels where the boning went showed up just as much as they had before. What’s more, the non-removable suspender clips hang down far enough to show under the skirts I wear, and they look lumpy because ALL MY CLOTHES ARE TIGHT.
I started to really, really regret cutting the boning out. If I hadn’t cut it, if I could just have thought ahead a little, and been sensible, I could have just returned the basque, admitted my mistake, and saved myself the money I couldn’t afford to spend. But once again I thought it would be rude and awkward, that they’d be sad if I returned it, that they’d go out of business because of customers like me. GO OUT OF BUSINESS?? Bravissimo is a HUGE company. I’m too used to tiny boutiques in America that actually WILL go out of business if their customers are too finicky.
Now I’m being forced to face the fact that I can’t return the basque. I own it forever now. And I can’t wear it under my clothes; I can’t wear it to class. I still don’t know when I could wear it, and it’s really difficult for me to get used to the idea of owning a product with such limited uses. But that’s what I’m going to have to do. I’m feeling grumpy, annoyed with myself. The basque does look good on me. I felt so good that first time I saw myself in it. Now I just feel guilty when I put it on. I’ve shoved it into a dark corner of my closet until a time when I’m ready to face owning it.