Breast Fest

The hostess’s son referred to the event as BREAST FEST.

I don’t think the occasion is destined to become the Lollapalooza of intimate apparel parties, but the inaugural clothes swap and bra-fitting might become a yearly get together.

A few weeks ago, my friend Nicki confided that she wanted to clean out her closet. Actually, she said she wanted to get rid of wearables (scarves and jewelry counted, too) that she recognized no longer fit or items she was tired of. She wanted to see if any friends wanted these items before they made it to a donation bag.

She thought other friends might also have skirts or shawls that would fall into this category, things they’d like to gift to friends – and she knew a woman who was a certified bra-fitter (I don’t think this credential is a four-year degree) that she felt could be an added attraction.

She announced Saturday’s clothes swap and bra-fitting open house a few week’s ago. It was dedicated to finding treasures before someone else sent them to the trash and set up shop in her den.

Three metal, caster enabled racks, suitable for the back room at Macy’s, filled her den. The dining table where we’ve sloshed down bowls of chili while watching basketball or the Academy Awards on her projection screen TV served as a display area for a wide range of jewelry; some baubles still in the original, fancy boxes.

When I arrived (about 2:00), the other Nicki was modeling a thrift store find, a black evening dress, which looked like a million bucks on her. She decided to try it on for us after she had her fitting session with Joy in one of the upstairs bedrooms (a great name for a certified bra-fitter, missioned with making middle-aged women feel buoyant about their bodies).

I started looking through the racks, not expecting to find anything. I didn’t anticipate seeing anything in my size or my style….but I was surprised.

Between visiting with the other ladies, consuming plastic tumblers of punch, and waiting for my turn with Joy, I tried on several items. We all were well-occupied with the assortment, and tried things whenever the urge came over us. No one displayed false modesty.

I ended up filling a large Nordstrom’s shopping bag with a hand-made shirt and jacket, a fitted long-sleeve Danskin knock-off, a cotton summer top, a black linen dress (with pearls, I will feel so divinely preppie in it this spring), and a rust colored raw silk skirt.

Everything was FREE, which is always good.

It felt like a different shopping experience, too. I’m not used to going to the mall with an entourage. It was affirming to hear:

That fits you well or That’s a great color for you.

Even when people offered opinions that something someone was trying on didn’t work, there was no tone of being BRUTALLY HONEST in their voice. Everything said came out NICE HONEST.

When it was my turn to go see Joy, I was amazed by the huge selection in her box o’bras. This wasn’t like a F_ckerware or sexy lingerie party. It wasn’t about trying to cop an unnatural look of seductress. It was about finding a foundation that fits right and feels right, and makes your clothes look better.

I was a little relieved that the size I would look for at a department store sale was not far off from what Joy recommended. Her small suggestions on cup size, wear and how best to put one on made a big difference though.

I thought about unpleasant experiences buying bras or swimsuits when I was younger. Every teenage girl has probably encountered an aggressive sales clerk. Every girl remembers feeling mortified then resigned to being uncomfortable over this specific type of shopping they had to do regularly.

Bonding over finding a perfectly fitting bra was strange and unexpected. Everyone at BREAST FEST was a workingwoman past child-rearing age. Everyone wanted to look good but wanted to feel like herself.

We were tired of wanting to look like a Victoria Secret model. We bonded over the shared experience of our culture establishing an impossible image of what we SHOULD LOOK LIKE.

We were all willing to pay a little extra for feeling something really suited us as individuals.

Bonding with other women over our changing bodies and wanting to feel beautiful in the current shape we’re in is no small thing.

Comments

  1. Would have absolutely loved attending this party!!! Especially the bra fitting; this part of my anatomy is so different in my 60’s than at younger ages. Sounds like you snagged a good haul. And it feels so good to repurpose clothing items that you can’t/will not wear anymore. They just remind you of bad purchases/weight gain/shifting body image. Who needs that negativity in the closet? Laura Lee

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