Superstitions

Maison Chloé

Catherine — Mon, 13 Nov 2017 17:45:30 +0000

When Gaby Aghion founded Chloé, she started with the alphabet, using it to identify her garments in lieu of the industry standard of numbers. She believed letters imparted more inspiration and narrative onto her collections, breathing life into each piece. Her alphabet also gave women – and fashion journalists – the freedom to form their own tangential associations with the clothing.

The new Maison Chloé celebrates the fashion house’s legacy of storytelling, beginning with the iconic Chloé Alphabet. On the first floor, a small exhibition room brings together some of those inspirations – for instance, “C” for cheval (meaning “horse”), and “B” for banane (“banana”). Underlying all of the Chloé collections is a sense of whimsy, if not full-frontal surrealism – a mood that sets the tone for the rest of the exhibition, which focuses on Guy Bourdin’s photographs for the fashion house.

Dresses by Stella McCartney from the iconic 2001 “Wild Horses” collection are on display at Maison Chloé. Of the collection, McCartney remarked, “For the Chloé woman, the horse is a kindred spirit – like her, it runs wild and free.” Photo my own.

The 2001 “Wild Horses” collection, photographed by Juergen Schabes for Archivist, a beautiful and timeless print publication that showcases designer archives. The book is available for purchase at Maison Chloé or on the Archivist website.

Guy Bourdin’s ongoing collaboration with Chloé during Karl Lagerfeld’s reign as creative director is chronicled on four floors of the museum. Bourdin’s bizarre photographs play off of Lagerfeld’s imaginative, almost Dadaist designs, particularly the tromp l’oeil dresses that were his cheeky signature. A dress from 1983, for instance, has two sequin water faucets spilling embellishments down the shoulder blades and train of the dress, while on the opposite wall hangs a photograph within a photograph. Our tour guide remarked that Bourdin’s strange, confounding photographs called into question the stories of the women in the pictures.

For as long as fashion photography has been an art, Bourdin’s photos have been so widely disseminated, and so often imitated, that walking through the exhibition feels like déjà vu. We’ve seen all of it already. But the original maquettes of his Chloé lookbooks and magazine spreads, juxtaposed with the original Chloé pieces, give us a tangible sense of the ideological and formal sources of his photography. For example, the verticality of book or magazine spines – a motif Bourdin used habitually in his compositions, providing both visual and conceptual play. (See the far right image below, in which a woman’s legs open “like a book.”)

One of my favorite Guy Bourdin photographs from the collection, from Vogue Paris, 1979.

Many of Bourdin’s collaborations with Chloé involved the French shoe house, Charles Jourdan. This particular photograph was from a 1972 campaign.

Another Charles Jourdan advertisement, from 1978. Our tour guide described this photo as, “her legs opening like the book she holds.”

The Maison Chloé space itself is alone worth the visit. Originally owned by a woman in the early 20th century, 28 rue de La Baume lends its own history to that of Chloé’s: both are women-owned houses. In fact, throughout most of its history, Chloé has been almost exclusively run by female designers and directors, among whom are counted Phoebe Philo and Stella McCartney. Upon founding the very first prêt-à-porter house in history, Gaby Aghion liberated women from the stiff, difficult-to-wear couture that dominated the fashion market. Following her lead, other couturiers like Madame Carven began to produce prêt-à-porter lines. Since the beginning of the label, Chloé has always been about the stories women live in their clothing.

And in the foyer of the classic Haussman building, an emerging artist has been included in the Chloé legacy. Curated by Chloé’s current creative director Natacha Ramsay-Levi, Marion Verboom’s quiet art installation, titled Achronies, is tucked just behind the main lobby. Appropriately, Verboom’s Brancusi-esque sculptures – in chunks both abstract and figurative – echo the Dadaist spontaneity of Chloé.

“…What should I do?
Did you kiss him on the mouth?
Yes. Then he gave me a brooch.
Then try to be with him.”
– J, Jewelry, from Archivist Issue 3

Banner image is property of Chloé.

Currently an installation titled Achronies by Marion Verboom is on display in the foyer of the Maison Chloé, adding a touch of modernity to the classic Haussmann building. Photo my own.

Ten years ago on Melrose

Catherine — Fri, 02 Jun 2017 13:25:34 +0000

For the first time in my life, I notice my boobs are different sizes. Shrouded in the dark floral walls of the Agent Provocateur fitting room, I model for a mirror and a stranger a padded green three-quarter cup bra called Nikita, with a matching satin suspender belt and thong. I think I’m supposed to feel sexy, but the only thing I’m feeling is naked.

“Half of all women have uneven breasts,” says the Melrose agent. Until now, I’d never discerned the difference in mine; a shallow 32a, I’d never worn a bra that fit better than a vague, well-it-covers-everything way. And suddenly, in this daring, low-cut satin bra, my boobs made manifest the variation of their size. Before this, the only bra I’d ever owned was an overly practical Calvin Klein t-shirt bra, the simple – and I imagine only – function of which was to form a mounded, nipleless, Barbie-esque silhouette under my clothes. Aged nineteen, I knew very little about lingerie, and obviously less about my own body.

Catholic guilt is real. Growing up, lingerie was either practical or hedonistic without compromise; there was nothing aesthetic, least of all self-indulgent, about it. If you wanted nice underwear not torn from a Hanes economy pack, it was presumably for fucking. And fucking in almost any case, and certainly never with the lights on, was not pope-approved. So nice lingerie? Hell no.

But at nineteen, I moved to Los Angeles, where, qualified somehow by my experience in selling luxury chocolates, I unexpectedly landed a job as a lingerie fitter. My French roommate, upon learning this news, was enthusiastic to supplement my lack of knowledge on the subject. Opening her own bra drawer, she awakened me to a myriad of shapes, fabrics, and silhouettes. She told me that girls in France bought beautiful bras with their mothers – not for boys but for themselves. She imparted upon me a more nuanced philosophy of lingerie: of how my body should look, of how things could fit, of beauty outside the mold of Victoria’s Secret.

Macabre details like barbed wire embroidery and serrated, razor-edged elastic make Maschina hauntingly beautiful. Part of the iconic Pirates and Witches collection from 2008. Styled here with a Hopeless Lingerie harness.

Lingerie was among my first lessons in an inchoate education about my body, an education that my Catholic all-girls high school failed me during adolescence. At nineteen, I could describe in better detail the theme of repressed sexuality in Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist than I could the appearance of my own breasts. As it turns out, no one likes to talk about women’s bodies, least of all their idiosyncrasies.

But working as a lingerie fitter, learning and talking about people’s bodies became my job. Body image, confidence, size, posture, breast augmentation, breastfeeding, aging: my work bared these issues to me in a way I’d never seen before, literally. I’ve seen more boobs than anyone I’ve dated. Spoiler alert: no two bodies are the same – even my identical twin sister and I wear different bra sizes. But if there were a recurring theme among all of the people I talked to – a topic I promise to elaborate on one day – it was that many women don’t know very much about their own bodies at all.

And that is by design: to know your body is the first step towards pride in it. This fact was proselytized, guarded and exploited by religious leaders, politicians, writers and artists for centuries. As John Berger so perfectly observed, “You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting ‘Vanity,’ thus morally condemning the woman.” Vanity, a sin worse than murder – indeed, a deadly sin.

Enter Agent Provocateur, replete with decadent lace and bows, salacious straps and sumptuous satins: beauty, sex, vanity.

The June romper vibes a glamorous 80s drama divorcée, with a dark floral print on a sumptuous silk-satin and elbow-length flutter sleeves. From the summer 2016 collection. Worn here with Lorna suspenders and pastel lavender stockings, also both Agent Provocateur.

Ten years ago, I’m in the Agent Provocateur boutique on Melrose Avenue for the first time, stripped in front of Berger’s proverbial mirror, a dazzling floral wallpaper reflecting off my unfashionably pale and fuzzy body. In this moment, Agent Provocateur is no longer just a glamorous Kate Moss sauntering down a stairwell in a life I’ll never have – I’m in its walls, and I’m trying on bras beyond my budget. As I put on the first bra that’s ever actually fit me, I realize for the first time in my life that my boobs are different sizes.

“Half of all women have uneven breasts,” says the Agent, and I know this is true because I’m a newly-appointed lingerie “expert.” And in this moment, I find it all very funny. Funny because, if 50% of women do or don’t anything, you’re weird no matter what. Funny that nineteen years into my life, I apparently had no idea what my own breasts looked like. And funny that standing there, glaring imperfections and all, I felt, in my enlightenment… I don’t know, beautiful?

The heart lace on Eleanor was a unique detail back in 2007. This roll-on (and the matching bra) was one of my first AP pieces, and it remains one of my favorites.

Carven: the line between couture and prêt-à-porter

Catherine — Fri, 10 Feb 2017 00:57:06 +0000

In 1945, Madame Marie-Louise Carven founded the French fashion house Carven to bring couture to women who shared her own diminutive proportions (she stood just over 5 feet), counting among her patrons Edith Piaf, the famous French chanteuse. In a world where couture was defined by towering models in opulent gowns, Mme Carven took a different approach: “I wanted to retain my style — sober, practical and young, with a lot of sports garments.”

Although Carven started out as a couture house, Mme Carven quickly joined the fast-growing prêt-à-porter movement, started by her contemporary Gabi Aghion of Chloé. It’s no wonder that during the era of fashion kings such as Cristobal Balenciaga and Christian Dior, the few women designers in the industry were rebelling against the waist-restricting, difficult-to-wear dresses of couture. Prêt-à-porter was, by definition, easier to wear, easier to move in, explicitly for worldly and working women.

“Designers [today] unfortunately think about making their mark on their design. I didn’t think of my designs like that. I thought about the young girls, the young women that I dressed, even my models, to show off their beauty to the maximum.” [WWD]

I love the darting and pockets of this Carven jacket from the 2012 pre-fall collection by Guillaume Henry. Worn here with my favorite Lanvin smoking slippers from several years ago.

While famous for its structured and often tomboyish silhouettes, Carven is no less whimsical for it. Simple, structured pieces feature exaggerated details that foreground its heritage. Take, for example, this beautiful jacket from the 2012 prefall collection by Guillaume Henry. The overstated darting gives an otherwise simple aviator jacket a mid-century couture look, while the outlined faux pockets add a touch of whimsy to the design.

This is something as evident in Carven’s clothing designs as its history. For instance, at the launch of her perfume, Mme Carven had an airplane drop bottles of the perfume with tiny parachutes over the City of Paris. Wrote the house of Carven, “The lingering scent of Ma Griffe floated everywhere: at the opera, at charity balls, at the most fashionable sports events from Deauville to Monte Carlo.”

Although this particular jacket is pictured here, it’s easy to find it secondhand on Vestiaire Collective in a variety of sizes.

Shop Carven

Black leather Carven jacket, $290

Carven check bomber jacket, $850

Carven floral skirt, $60

Carven bomber jacket, $236

Remembering Chloé fall 2006

Catherine — Wed, 01 Feb 2017 22:33:08 +0000

There are a handful of fashion shows I’ll always feel very nostalgic about: for instance, Rodarte’s Spring 2008 show with spiderweb stockings and spiked heels; Prada’s show of the same season with hand-painted fairies on sheer tulle; McQueen’s spring 2003 collection with the iconic oyster dress; and Miu Miu’s 2011 mid-century collection with wide shoulders, tiny waists, and swallow prints. Among these shows ranks Chloé’s fall 2006 collection – which despite its bad reception, has always remained a favorite of mine.

The 2006 Chloé fall ready-to-wear show is not well-remembered or well-regarded in fashion history. Phoebe Philo had just left the label and, with no head designer, the show was put together by committee – the death knell for creative and cohesive design, as any designer from any industry will tell you. Criticized for its lack of shape and color, the collection was dismissed as a poor imitation of the carefree cool chic Philo bestowed upon the brand. Sarah Mower, fashion critic and author of Chloé Attitudes, called the collection “[close to] definitively ugly.”

This wool dress and these shoes were the second look in the Chloé runway show, modeled by Snejana Onopka. When I saw the dress on Vestiaire, having already owned the shoes, I knew I had to have it. The wide silhouette makes it easy to throw on over shirts and skirts; it’s really more of a coat. And I love the pleating and epaulets around the shoulders.

Although the collection received much criticism from the high priests of fashion, fashion laymen loved it. The wooden sky-high Silverado booties, similar to Philo’s wooden platforms of the previous season, quickly became the shoe of the season – featured all over magazines, editorials, and party photo sites like Lastnightsparty and Misshapes. (That was over ten years ago, are you feeling old yet?)

And despite the Silverado’s infamy as the shoe that sent Jessica Stam tumbling down the runway, the high leather booties were incredibly comfortable. The cleverly hidden platform that makes the 5 inch heels walkable left its indelible footprint on shoe design. For years after, Jeffrey Campbell peddled the horsey (and frankly more famous) Lita pump, an oft-compared copy with none the nuance. And although they’re certainly no longer an it shoe, I would even dare to say they’re still in fashion. (Indeed, I still bookmark variations of the shoe on resale sites, although I only have room in my closet for so many 5” towering heels.)

True to the conventional wisdom that accessories generally outsell clothing, the famous Silverado shoes proved to be the true stars of the collection (and one of my most prized wardrobe items). But the clothes have proved equally timeless. The restricted, muted palette and structured, woolen fabrics called to mind the “mori girl” fashion movement in Japan, which was perhaps one of the things that endeared me to it the most. “Mori,” meaning forest, is an aesthetic often marked by neutral, woodsy colors and vintage silhouettes like loose-fitting dresses and smocks. The easily layered jackets, dresses, and blouses proved not only wearable, but versatile. This particular dress that I managed to buy secondhand, with pleating on the shoulders and structured, exaggerated epaulets, has all the tailoring of a timeless piece of clothing.

As the label moves to define itself by its festival-friendly, boho chic instagram campaign, I feel nostalgic looking back on the older days of the label, when not particularly photo-ready pieces would be worn unseen on cold nights and rainy streets. True, I look like a monk when I wear this one out to the bars (one old man asked if I was a “fashion editor,” so I guess that’s a little more flattering?) but it feels special and timeless. Maybe not a collection with a massive peacocking potential, maybe not a collection for the archives – but still a solid and enduring collection nonetheless.

Chloe fall 2006 shoes

Jumpsuits Forever

Laure — Wed, 01 Jul 2015 00:01:32 +0000

I love jumpsuits because they are the pants-version of a dress. As someone who thrives on easy dressing, I appreciate the economy of an all-in-one outfit. But anyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that I never wear skirts–not out of principle, but because I have a penchant for trousers. So, in my world, the jumpsuit is the sliced bread of fashion. That’s why I’m thrilled that, over the past few years, the garment has re-emerged as a wardrobe staple–so much so that some sites even have a section dedicated to them. (My dry cleaner, however, still looks at mine quizzically before deciding to ring them up as “dresses.” They’re the only green cleaner in town, though, so I’ll give them a break!)

I’ve basically lived in my Oliver jumpsuit by the Reformation for over a year now. I’m all about things you can wear over and over again, because it helps cultivate a sense of individual style while being mindful of sustainability. Of course, it helps that the Reformation uses conscious production methods, from the selection of dead-stock fabric to fair labor practices.

When Kenzo dedicated their Resort ’16 collection to the intrepid woman, it made sense to me that they offered an array of jumpsuits. I’ve worn this piece to weddings, class, and desert treks in the Atlas Mountains. It’s become my personal uniform because it’s perfect for wandering around in the summer. For instance, this weekend, I donned it to exploring the alleys and various passages of the West End Historic District in downtown Winston-Salem, my current home. I wear my clothing hard (and lovingly), so I’m hoping it’ll last another several adventures.

Superstitions

Catherine — Thu, 11 Jun 2015 15:18:51 +0000

After ten-plus of blogging separately, we are re-launching Superstitions as a collaborative effort. Although we’re a thousand miles apart, we share a similar vision to create a blog that isn’t just OOTD’s, but reflects on our similar–and sometimes very different–passions. As basically life-long bloggers, we’ve watched the landscape change dramatically, for better and for worse, and we’re hoping to retain the things about it that attracted us in the first place: intimacy, honesty, and dialogue.

The latter explains why this is a joint project. We have spent our twenties feeling out ways to pursue the things we love: from travel, to literature, to fashion, to art. Since we’ve experienced this journey together, it made sense to write about it together. We’ll still make posts individually, but they’ll very much be part of the same concept–we already edit each other’s writing (yep, even our blog posts), help each other take pictures, and bounce ideas off each other. And we are planning to do a few posts together in an experimental dialogue format about the things that we both love. The concept behind the focus on dialogue is not only to engage each other, but to bring you into the conversation, because we value the relationship between writer and reader.

Thus, Superstitions will be re-booted on June 21st: the summer solstice, the gemini/cancer cusp, our birthday.

– Laure & Catherine

*****

This post has been edited. The original post is below.

For those of you who have been following me since See Creatures – and those of you who have been following me longer still! – I wanted to explain why I’m returning from a year-long hiatus with a new blog and name.

In short, See Creatures was too whimsical and frilly, not just in name, but in content as well. There was a heavy emphasis on fashion, hair, and beauty – none of which are my passions, even remotely. Although I wanted to offer inspiration and advice on these things, most of all because I got requests about them, I found I had very little to say. Writing about an outfit I wore was incredibly tedious for me, not to mention boring.

Furthermore, the outfit-plus-affiliate-links format was tiring; it didn’t leave room for any type of discussion between me and readers. Since I started building anime websites in middle school, the internet has always been a community for me to meet people; I’d even go so far as to say that I’ve made lifelong friends, and that they live all over the world is even cooler. I felt like running a fashion-oriented blog was stifling this interaction; I felt like I was talking to a wall (or perhaps more accurately, a mirror).

There was also the problem of looking like someone who spent too much money on clothes and cared too much about my appearance. Although I’ve been very transparent about budgeting, saving, and only spending on things I really want, I still get comments about being a “big shopper” and a “fashionista.” What’s more disturbing is when they come from people that I know offline, especially because I would never describe myself as either of those things.

So Superstitions will be a more accurate reflection of my passions, focusing on lingerie, travel, writing, and even anime (or more broadly, art). It will emphasize writing and discussion, with less head-to-toe daily outfit shots. I’ve been trying to consider why people still visit blogs when most blogs have diffused their content almost completely over social media (Garance Doré talked about this very recently, and I think she’s completely correct). I’m still not sure what draws people to blogs necessarily, but I feel like the format of blogging is uniquely suitable for more in-depth personal writing, which is what I’d like to explore here.

Illusion by Chantal Thomass

Catherine — Tue, 07 Apr 2015 19:04:34 +0000

When I visited Paris last summer, I didn’t bring very much spending money at all; in fact, one of the only things I budgeted for was lingerie. One poll found that in France, 87% of men and women considered lingerie to be an “important part of life.” And in fact, it was my French roommate who first opened my eyes to the world of lingerie, which before I’d only considered to be Victoria’s Secret. So of course, lingerie shopping in Paris was something of a pilgrimage for me, and it exceeded every bit of my expectations.

My favorite boutique was Chantal Thomass, a legendary French lingerie-as-fashion house that has been at the top of my wishlist for years. I first fell in love with the brand through the ad campaigns shot by Ellen von Unwerth. Unfortunately, the brand is somewhat difficult to find, although it is becoming increasingly available in the States and on the web.

One of the sets I purchased was the “Illusion” set. With pleated floral tulle and Chantilly lace bow accents, the detailing is so decadent, and the construction is equally superb.

I did get one other set from the store, which I’ll share later. I can’t wait to visit Paris again; this will certainly be one of my first stops when I return!

Where to buy Chantal Thomass:

Gateway to the Sahara

Catherine — Fri, 23 Jan 2015 19:42:59 +0000

Driving through the Atlas Mountains was as breathtaking as it was terrifying. Our driver loved taking turns at a confident pace, simultaneously pantomiming Moroccan massages (hands off the wheel) as people crossed the tiny highway on donkeys just in front of our car. He swerved many times to point out the expansive olive groves in the mountains, which I could only hope would soften our fall when our vehicle went tumbling off the drop. Luckily we made it to our destination, Aït benhaddou, with no incident.

Aït benhaddou is a fortified city situated on the border between the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert (hence its nickname, “gateway to the Sahara”). Its representation of earthen and southern Moroccan architecture earned it protection as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Fellow Game of Thrones fans might know it as the setting of the city of Yunkai; I recently started watching the show and immediately recognized its unmistakable architecture.

After driving through the Atlas Mountains, I feel as though I can say confidently that the two most universal words in the world are “Coca-Cola” and “football.” I’ll never forget the site of a small football field carved into the side of a mountain – with people playing on it!

If you’re ever in Morocco (particularly Marrakech), I highly recommend taking a desert-side excursion through the mountains. It’s a perfect retreat from the frenetic pacing of the city, and the small (and often well-camouflaged) Berber towns, replete with argan oil, rugs, and livestock, are an incredible testament to the beauty of Moroccan tradition.

Marrakech, the Red City

Catherine — Fri, 16 Jan 2015 09:20:22 +0000

On our first morning in Marrakech, my sister and I were in trouble with the owner of our riad. “You haven’t eaten breakfast yet?!” A very british man, body and soul, John was scandalized by our haste.

Marrakech is a rusted labyrinth navigable only by a few major landmarks that dominate the small city, among which are two mosques and a giant pockmarked wall that surrounds the old town. A dusty pink patina covers the buildings, the roads, the walls, and the mountains.

The city center, Jemaa el-Fnaa, is a frenetic town square (the largest of its kind in all of Africa) surrounded by souks and filled with orange juice stalls and snake charmers. “The square is best enjoyed from a surrounding café terrace,” everyone will tell you. True and false. Marrakech is a city best experienced in the intersection between stress and enjoyment.

Marrakech is the insomniac’s dream; at around 9pm the city comes alive, and entire families – everyone – commune in the streets of the old city and the town square. Young boys playing football in the road, teenagers hanging out with their friends, grandparents holding babies. Viewing the town square from a rooftop at this hour is completely magical. Smoke rises from the stalls of restaurants, a man blasts “Hit me baby one more time” on an old boombox mere yards away from a traditional Moroccan band.

From the moment my sister and I arrived, we fell in love with this city. The hospitality of the people of Marrakech is unmatched; they greet strangers with the word “brother,” and love making jokes, which are all the more disarming when made at your expense.

Tips for traveling to Marrakech

Stay in a local riad rather than a resort.

My sister and I booked with Riad Hikaya, and I cannot recommend it enough. The owner John and his wife Jane helped us arrange almost all of the details of our trip via email. John is also incredibly invested in his visitors – meeting with you multiple times throughout your stay to make sure you are well prepared and taken care of. Also, the complimentary breakfast is incredible, and the dinner is absolutely worth every penny.

Save up for a rug or two in the souks.

I wish I had.

While in the souks, do not take pictures or touch anything unless you are interested in buying it.

Even a compliment on something is often considered contractual – the salespeople are very aggressive. Haggling is also a valuable skill here.

Dress somewhat modestly.

Marrakech is a Muslim city, and while there is no dress code, it is simply respectful. A good rule is nothing above the knees or below the collar bone.

Make reservations at Al Fassia.

It is a world-famous restaurant completely staffed by women (the name meaning “women of Fes”) and the food is superb.

Take an expedition to the Sahara, if possible.

The route takes you through the Atlas Mountains, so you get to see a significant (and beautiful) portion of the country.

What I’ve learned from lingerie

Catherine — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 18:35:41 +0000

“This is Catherine. She loves anime and lingerie.”

I’ve actually had people introduce me to their friends this way before. I’m not complaining; that is about the gist of it. Anime and lingerie. I can’t think of anything I spend more time or money on, if we’re not counting pizza and Tex Mex. Still, whenever someone introduces me this way, I feel obligated to add certain footnotes. In America, these things come with baggage, and I constantly feel the need to defend my interest in it.

“Yes, I have a pretty absurd collection of Agent Provocateur. No, it’s not, like, a fetish-y thing. It’s a fashion-y, feminist, super-detail-oriented thing. I guess.”

In my experience, people make certain assumptions about lingerie addicts. I remember shipping an Agent Provocateur order to my parents’ house only to have my dad intercept the package. The customs label very innocently declared, “EUROPEAN LINGERIE.” It might has well have said “buttplugs and feather ticklers,” because my father demanded that my mother inspect the contents to make sure it was “appropriate” (I was nineteen at the time, by the way) (This is coming from the man who let us watch Chucky the Killer Doll at age 3 – I was surprised to learn that “appropriate” was part of his vocabulary). My mother refused, saying it was my business. My father, too scared to open the Pandora’s box of his child’s lost innocence, defeatedly handed me the package.

***

I remember the first time I fell in love with lingerie: I had just moved to Los Angeles and landed a job at a lingerie store. Although I was grateful to be employed, I complained to my French roommate that I knew nothing about lingerie. At the time, I owned one white, ill-fitting Calvin Klein t-shirt bra for Explicitly Practical Purposes.

She led me down to her bedroom, which was a dimly-lit basement under our mountainside townhouse. Pulling open the top drawer of her dresser, she handed me several exquisite bras in every style – red, white, eyelash lace, embroidered. I never knew bras could come in so many variations, or so many shapes.

“All of these come from markets in France,” she explained. “You don’t have to go to Victoria’s Secret to get beautiful bras.” She told me that in France, mothers take their young daughters bra shopping for beautiful bras once they become a teenager. “It’s not about pleasing boys or looking sexy,” she said, “It’s about looking beautiful underneath your clothes.” And when it comes to subtextual elegance, the French are masters.

Lingerie by Agent Provocateur (similar set at Modcloth)

Once I had a guy tell me that lingerie was “inherently sexual.” Despite the prevalence of this attitude, I’ve always had a problem understanding this perspective. For me, lingerie has never been primarily sexual. Bras, hosiery, and panties are all things that I wear daily; that I would want to invest in nice, beautiful, and comfortable lingerie seems to logically follow. That others might see my lingerie or like my lingerie is only a tangential concern.

But historically, women’s fashion, particularly lingerie, has always been sexually objectified. In fact, lingerie is so often marketed towards (indeed for) the male gaze that we rarely question whether or not it can serve any other purpose than fulfilling erotic fantasies. To be fair, this attitude doesn’t just come from men, either. I’ve had countless women say to me, “But I don’t have a boyfriend, so there’s no reason for me to spend money on nice lingerie.” Except, you know, comfort, quality, durability, design, and aesthetics.

This isn’t to say that lingerie can’t be sexual. It isn’t even to say lingerie shouldn’t be sexual – rather, one’s lingerie doesn’t implicate sexuality.

When I worked in lingerie, we had one customer who worked in a very male-dominated industry, and she complained that she had to wear suits everyday to compete with everyone else. Lingerie was her outlet: under her business suit, she could wear whatever she wanted, no matter how brightly hued or embellished. It was her compromise between self-expression and practicality, and it empowered her. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from lingerie, it’s that everyone has different reasons for wearing it.

Ultimately, lingerie is about confidence: the kind of confidence that comes from comfort, beauty, and well-kept secrets.