A whole new meaning to flash photography

BREASTS fascinate everyone. It’s not sexual, or not necessarily, it’s primordial. As a result, one of the truths of womanly life is if you don’t have time to do hair and make-up, wear something cleavage-revealing because no man, woman nor child will be looking anywhere near your head. Perhaps it also explains some people’s total weirdness around public breastfeeding, blame the person with the bosoms that so transfix you rather than accept your own fascination.

Breast size does impact the look of clothing. So, for instance, a very slight, lightly endowed model bra-less in an outfit open to the navel may achieve a kind of Parisian chic. The same outfit on a pair of pendulous double Ds generally does not achieve the same effect. Breast size, however, does not change the fascination factor. Particularly large anythings are inherently interesting but with breasts, the primordial fascination is strong enough to defy size-ism, so again, no time for hair and makeup — just sport cleavage.

My friend had a great party to celebrate her 50th. I had time to do my hair and makeup so was free to sport a chaste cardigan and skirt ensemble. At one point, however, I had to run and I could feel a certain escape from bra-catraz. In company, my attempts at re-arranging the errant appendages were limited. I just didn’t realise quite how limited until the photos appeared. Under the flash, not only had the bra-catraz escapees clearly not been thwarted but my chaste cardi was no longer so chaste. Maybe only I would notice so I showed the photo to my daughter, wondering if perhaps my face looked fat. She sputtered with laughter.

“No-one’s going to be looking at your face!”