A Cry from my Bra Drawer
As damning as COVID-19 has been for our economy the liberation of fashion constraints is freeing. And speaking of constraints, A Letter From the Contents of My Bra Drawer is one of my favorite media posts during this weird time. It began…
“Dear Elizabeth, we wanted to check in. Is everything OK? It’s been a few weeks since we last saw you and we’re getting worried. It was on a Monday. You’d showered—a vanishingly rare event these days—and put on pants with a button. What’s going on? Have you given up on wearing bras completely?”
COVID-19 has given almost every woman I know a free pass to go braless. We have been confined to our homes so why in the world would we consider confining our breasts? Work and social obligations came to a halt, as did our need to look presentable. I’m sure cosmetic companies are suffering as makeup’s importance in our daily lives has diminished. Why bother with lipstick or blush when our faces are covered with masks whenever we venture out in public? Apparently our bras have been feeling neglected, however.
“Look, we know we’re not your favorite garment. You made that abundantly clear each time you unhooked us and threw us on the floor the minute you got home from work. But honestly, we miss you. We miss the smell of your deodorant and getting to feel the fresh air when our straps have the opportunity to peek out from under your shirt — even if only for a few minutes. A bra is only as good as the last time it propped up a bosom. For us, that last time is a distant memory.
Anthropomorphizing our bra drawer absolutely tickles my funny bone (and after breaking my elbow a month ago, it’s in dire need of something funny.) Arriving at my nest (home, hotel room, pop up tent)off goes the bra, lipstick, jewelry, and contact lenses. On go the baggy shorts, tee shirt and glasses. I love comfort. I really discourage friends from spontaneous drop-ins at my house because rarely if ever am I presentable. Opening a certain dresser drawer cues my dogs I’m about to put on a bra which inevitably means I’m leaving the house, a fact causing great consternation among my pampered pooches.
“Our fear is that we’re going to end up collecting dust in the back of our drawer like that corset you bought a few years ago when you were a bridesmaid in a wedding. Just know that whenever you’re ready for us, we’re here, retaining our elasticity.”
I somehow doubt they are gone forever but I’m enjoying the liberation. #freeourboobs!