Back to bras – but not as you knew them
Lockdown meant a move away from uncomfortable underwires and itchy lace – but what now in the ‘new normal’, asks Charlie Gowans-eglinton
As normality begins to creep back into our lives – whether for you that’s going back to work, back to the golf club, or back to Friday night (or are you doing Eat Out to Help Out Wednesday?) dinners out – so, too, do the clothes we used to spend normality in.
Remember those? Tailored trousers, shoes without rubber soles, items that require ironing? Some of the comebacks are welcome. Proper handbags, for one – the chuckeverything-in appeal of a tote bag begins to wane after weeks spent constantly rummaging around at the bottom (where did this sand come from?) looking for your house keys.
And trousers that aren’t 90 per cent stretch appeal too (though they’ll be an adjustment). But this has been a period of fashion reflection, and for everything we’re longing to take up again, there’s something else we’ve realised we’re glad to see the back of. Case in point: bras.
They’re not all bad, of course. They can be mood-boosting bits of prettiness, or weapons of empowerment – I’m thinking of
Madonna’s cone-shaped bra here. They can be emboldening and beautiful. But as I was reminded when an underwire pinged out of place to scratch a welt into my chest on a recent dawn dog walk, they can also be hell. And having adjusted to being comfortable during lockdown – no heels, no Spanx, no itchy jumpers or restrictive jackets – I have no intention of giving that up.
So, if the end of hard-lockdown has stirred up some of those new year desires to purge the dross from our wardrobes, start with your bra drawer. Mine can be divided into three camps. In the first are the stonkingly ugly bras bought to wear with specific dresses, often of the bridesmaid variety. These are in varying shades of putty and greige attempting to mimic my own fair skin tone, have hoicking and smoothing properties so are wildly uncomfortable, and are completely unembellished so as to be invisible under clothes. Second, the sports bras, ostensibly for sports but often worn for lounging around the house in. And the third camp: the “sexy” bras, ones with matching pants and liberal application of lace. Still wildly uncomfortable, as most of them seek to contort your bosom into pert bounciness at all times, but thanks to heavy embellishment these usually look lumpy under clothes, so they’re neither style nor substance.
Most of my old bras should go the way of the dodo, or rather be donated – againstbreastcancer.org.uk will take those in good condition, as will your local charity shop – and the threadbare should be put into a clothing recycling container. If they’re barely worn and cost a lot (I once had an appointment in a designer lingerie shop and left with several bits of colourful and expensive dental floss, including a suspender belt that I’ve never worn) then you can resell them on Vestiaire Collective, ebay or Depop.
So, now what? Going without isn’t an option for most, myself included, but I’m now shopping for bras with a more discerning eye. They should be
Sexy bras are wildly uncomfortable and usually look lumpy under clothes
(in no particular order): pretty enough to be cheering to put on in the morning, streamlined enough to look good under clothes (even silk shirts), comfortable enough to wear all day, and made in a best-practice factory with a transparent supply chain. Not asking much, am I?
To avoid underwires altogether, Rossell England specialises in unwired bras that still offer support up to an E cup. There are eight different shapes, all of which specify the level of support they give on the website, and despite the lack of an underwire, there
is definite perk-factor here, thanks to the brand’s signature stiff, angled side seams, which push everything together, and under-bands in various different widths. I wear a DD cup and have two styles, one heavier support, one lighter, both 100 per cent cotton, both very pretty and a joy to wear (the new autumn line has just arrived, and I’m eyeing the lemon yellow). All of the fabrics are natural and sourced from mills in Ireland and Italy, and the bras are made in a Portugeuse factory.
My mum, who also wears a DD cup, was advised to wear sports bras with firm support following breast cancer surgery last year. She finds most unwired bras too flimsy but doesn’t want to return to underwires and so is a convert to sports bras, though it can be difficult to find them in breathable, natural fabrics instead of hi-tech sportswear fabrics. Her favourites are from John Lewis and Marks & Spencer, both of which have zip and buttonfront styles, so you don’t have to wriggle in and out of them (a workout in itself).
Araks’ bright colours, sheer panels and delicate lace might trigger flashbacks to your least comfortable but prettiest bras past, but this brand has all the style without any of the scratch. With wired and unwired bras up to a D cup in a paintbox of colours and fabrics, these beautiful bras don’t look like they make comfort a priority, but they do – and the stretch laces will lay flat under your clothes, too. They’re also photographed on models with a variety of body shapes and skin colours, making it easier to choose what will work for you. The fabrics aren’t all sustainable – yet. There is a range of 100 per cent cotton styles, but the rest are a work in progress, moving towards organic cotton and recycled nylon. The brand is already functioning as a low-waste model, and chooses its mills and factories for their environmental credentials.
And for bras with serious eco kudos, Rêve En Vert – an online platform for all things sustainable – stocks littleknown brands from across the world, from Balinese brand Indigo Luna’s plant-dyed bras to British label Pico’s Fairtrade and organic cotton crop tops.
So whatever your new normal – and your new normal wardrobe – looks like, this one little change means that while you might be taking up tools and returning to reality, for our boobs, there’s no going back.
Whatever your new normal looks like, for our boobs, there’s no going back