Ladies, scanties on show lets us all down
Put down that ice-lolly for a minute and consider this question. Is it ever acceptable to sunbathe in your bra and pants in a public space? I’m only asking because so many women did exactly that during the heatwave this week. With temperatures hitting 33c and beyond, office workers, toilers, cooped-up mums and the rest headed to parks and beaches to enjoy the sunshine.
the heatwave had been widely forecast; everyone in these weather-obsessed times knew it was going to happen. Yet despite being a nation who carry brollies and lead global purchasing of pac-a-macs and galoshes, despite being perma-prepared for any inclement weather incident, few of us thought to plan ahead for the Great British bake off.
So instead of slipping into the appropriate beachwear they hadn’t packed into their bags, women just peeled off their tops and sunbathed in their bras instead. the attitude seemed to be: “Whay hey, gerrem out, it’s summer for five minutes, why not?”
Well, I’ll tell you why not. I’d like to be polite about this. I’d like to say that extreme weather demands extreme behaviours. But I simply can’t. Your lingerie should be a secret between you, your lover and your laundry basket. Believe me, nobody else wants to know.
All those bras in parks and beaches? they just looked awful — a cavalcade of double D-cups, saggy underwired plunges, foam-filled bust enhancers perished under the armpits, not-so-secret supports, a random assortment of regrettable frilly efforts and that boiled grey one with the twisted straps that should have been put out of its misery back in 2009.
Paired with matching granny pants, it shows why the world recoils when sun-starved, fashion-famished Brits dare to get their bits out. It’s an annual disgrace. And nobody is fooled. We all know you’re in your knickers.
Be they lovely scraps of lace or more prosaic efforts, it’s downright selfish for a woman to display her underpinnings to everyone else, just because it’s hot and she wants to grab the maximum tanning rays while she can.
Darling, you’re not a prisoner in Cell Block H, rolling down your uniform to make the most of a tea break in the jail yard — but that’s what it looks like from here.
Whatever happened to decorum, to dressing appropriately, to being aware of the sensitivities of others? Don’t ask, because they have been washed away in the suds of self-regard by the Me Now, Me First generation.
WHIle some sports bras and a few (very few!) pretty bras could almost be bikini tops from a distance, most do not pass the Madonna ‘underwear as outerwear’ test. And the ones that do are far too sexy to wear at lunchtime in a city park, unless you happen to be an alfresco pole dancer.
So where did that leave us this week? Confronted by a balloon-scape of strangers’ bras, those everyday ones with reinforced elastic sides and an air of sturdy forbearance about them.
If these bras could speak, they would be sighing with fatigue and asking, in a whispery croak, for a glass of water.
they would also be demanding that their privacy is respected at this difficult time, while trying to shield themselves from the public gaze. For most bras are shy, nocturnal creatures; sly feats of engineering and suspensions of disbelief that are not fit for display.
So ladies, please, put them away. even 33c is no excuse to give your old 36C from M&S an airing, no matter how much you want to let it all hang out. Some might argue that if it is socially acceptable for women to wear bikinis in public, why not underwear? Please. As Mr Hyacinth Bucket used to tell his wife, I don’t want to see what’s been festering under your twinset since last Christmas.
It is all about context. underwear is thinner, designed to be worn in private, a support act under clothes, not the star turn. Swimwear is sturdier, meant to withstand salt water, sunshine and public exhibition.
One is being appropriately dressed and the other is being undressed, no matter that the same amount of skin might be exposed. One looks socially responsible and smart, the other looks like you are only days away from forgetting you ever had kids and embarking on a morning gin rampage in tK Maxx.
ladies, this is your severe weather warning. You are on notice for objectionable behaviour. Please, keep your bra to yourself and we can all enjoy sizzling summer together.
P. S. Men! You are not much better. High summer may be a low point for British style but you could try harder, too. Hot weather does not just mean fewer clothes — shattered shorts and an old vest — it means different clothes. It means cool cottons and nice shorts with sandals, not a football strip and trainers with those queasy socklettes.
And it means you have to keep your top on in public, too. the sight of topless men baring their chests on British city streets is an annual eyesore — it’s even worse than the bras!
Gentlemen, please don’t think it is fine to pop into a supermarket without feeling the need to put a top on, no matter how gorgeous you think your chest might be, nor how manly you think this makes you look.
It is not cool. It is a physical arrogance, not to mention an antisocial and unhygienic practice. You know, sometimes I long for winter again. then at least all this horror is hidden.