Seduction is the greatest weapon. From a toy it can turn into a lethal weapon. Lingerie is the Simon to its Garfunkel. Lingerie is supposed to be a tool for manipulation and countless prenup-less marriages. However, for me, its purpose is purely for self-gratification. Being sexy is one thing, feeling sexy is entirely another. However, if they are combined, its level of mind-numbing toxicity can turn tuna into dolphins, men into puppies.
I learned early on that God really is in the details. I almost died when I saw some pictures of me in a pair of skintight pink satin drainpipe pants (sounds horrid, I know) with my school girl knickers, dancing to some cheesy early ‘90s trance music. Not only was I butt-less – and was naïve enough to think that I could pull off such a Debbie Harry ensemble – but the panty lines totally distracted me. I started getting paranoid. If Kodak Eastman could see it through the fog-filled club, who else did? The devil made me wear those knickers!
From then on, I became obsessed with underwear, the more invisible the better. I have forsaken comfort with dental floss undies, until I discovered a gem. While stocking up on my Bench goodies (candy, tanks, cologne, hand gel) I discovered these slick little undies by Bench Body that promised comfort and the discretion of a gay matinee idol. I was hooked. I wore drainpipe pants (not in pink satin, of course), chiffon skirts, even waterfall-skimming dresses with no worries and no unsavory fabric lines. I felt confident. I had the stride of a vixen and the comfort of a baby girl bundled in cotton. I bought it all out. I have even resorted to calling Ben Chan’s office to ask if they had more since they were clearly disappearing and being snatched by every woman who has been hurt by a panty line or thong in her recent past.
Seamless – it’s a complimentary word to describe delicious personalities, sumptuous desserts, excellent service, jaw-dropping outfits and, most importantly, very crucial underwear. It’s the way to go – sexy and understated. And, unlike that scene in Bridget Jones, when your partner says, "Oh mommy," it won’t be dripping with irony.