The Postmortem of a Bra

The Postmortem of a Bra

Somewhere in between the pick-a-size paper towels and the cat food, my Valentino bra died today. I’d stopped wearing it, primarily because it super shapes (if you know what I mean). I’d noticed, however, that the dainty little satin bow that held the cups together was hanging on by an increasingly skimpy thread.

So today, when I stretched in that aisle at the little, shabby (yet genteel) Wisconsin and Newark Giant that is threatening to be replaced by a Mega Giant (and who knows how many more condominiums) within the next couple of years, the thread popped. I immediately thought of Swirl, the bra that had corseted me in “Training Wheels.”

I kept Swirl for several years. I guess I could stitch Valentino up.

It’s much more fun to dissect it…and to write this postmortem, instead.