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a story it would be flat-out cruel to not share with you
I have, and there is no more delicate or tasteful way for me to put this, a massive rack and a tiny waist. To say the least, it’s not the easiest thing to tailor clothes to. I’ve got tops in every size from S to XL, and as for undergarments… well, just don’t even get me started.
Okay, fine. Get me started.
***
On a hanger, wrapped in plastic and zipped into a custom-sized dress bag in my parent’s mothball-steeped spare closet, lives The Beast™. Months dormant, the ever-decreasing number of days between now and That Day have demanded that it be aired in public, namely for the purpose of Fitting Number One. And yes, I know I should have done this weeks ago, but you see, it took some time to find the correct supporting cast member for such a intense display of beaded taffeta.
This brings us to the Lower East Side of New York City, once known for its pushcart vendors, shtetyls, and Jewish immigrant population, now mostly clogged with irony, $7 lattes, and those who consume both with vigor. Yet, pieces of the old remain, one of them a Hasidic man with a store famed to be able to find the perfect size and fit undergarment for every… size and fit. Obviously, I had to check it out.
***
Sunday afternoon, Alex and I tracked the store down, setting off an experience I can best liken to Guerrilla Lingerie Shopping. Or, as Alex said, “the least sexy lingerie experience I ever wish to have.”
His image of scantily-clad women tiptoeing around, trying to get a second opinion on the thong versus g-string debate was smashed the instant we walked into the shoe-box sized shop with walls lined floor to ceiling with boxes. (The front window, advertising all sorts of lacy sexiness, is a bit misleading.) There are no shopping racks to flip through. There is no self-service. There is also no free will.
The Hasidic man behind the counter asked me what I was looking for, nodded, and then requested that I showed him my still-clothed back, then turn for him. He climbed a ladder and pulled down a box, asking if he could “try it on me.” So befuddled at this point, I believe my answer was, “yes?” And right there, in front of my fiancé, with his bare hands, he applied a corset over my turquoise knit top, turning me around and fastening it to my groaning frame. Satisfied, he sent me in the back (the last third of the store, barely covered with a shower curtain) with a female assistant, who ordered me out of my top and bra. Handing me a paper towel, she told me to “clean myself off.” At first gravely offended, I placated her – what choice did I have? – rationalizing that whatever “dirtiness” she wished removed would likely not come off with a disposable cloth.
And then the fun really started.
***
Apparently, it was a perfect fit. I know this because the woman lavished praise on my form. I also know this because the (deeply religious) man, back on his ladder for another customer, peered into my shower-curtained cubicle and told me so. But mostly, I figured it out because – just like that – we were done and I was ushered back into my clothes, the woman looking on.
***
Back at the counter, I made the mistake of asking questions:
“Does this come with matching underwear?”
“No.”
“Do any of them?”
“No.”
“Are there any other styles?”
“This is what is best for you. I pick it for a reason.”
Alrighty, then.
***
I bought it, of course. It was a “perfect fit,” after all. I dare you to argue.
And the support, well… it’s alarming. Strapped in, my breasts reside somewhere just under my chin. I liken them to being suspended from the sky. They bump into things. They intimidate.
Pity the boy that might run into such a holster on a dimly-lit dance floor!
comments (19)
I SO want to have something witty to add here, but I got nothin'. I usually ask for picture confirmation of stories like this, but I'm thinking that wouldn't be appropriate this time.
1 | Robert | April 21, 2005 02:27 PM
I don't have the small waist problem, but my shoulders are much narrower than my boobs. Seriously. I'm talking 36H, or the likens of 5 D's. I wish we had stores like that in Florida.
2 | Jen | April 21, 2005 02:31 PM
Sometimes you just have to let go and let god so to speak. Maybe the fact that he's deeply religious gives him the divine abiity to gauge bra sizes?
Regardless, I bet you look fabulous. But that goes without saying, huh?
3 | pea | April 21, 2005 03:20 PM
I want the location of this magical place where there isn't the multiple trying on of underthings that still never fit right.
4 | Christina | April 21, 2005 03:28 PM
I didn't link to the store because I am certain I will get sued for accusing a Hasidic man of watching me try on bras, and reacting with praise. Email me if would like to know the name.
5 | deb | April 21, 2005 03:30 PM
LOVE this place. there's nothing quite like it.
don't forget, most bras are half price!
6 | shana | April 21, 2005 03:36 PM
There's a place exactly like that (except for the hasidic man) around the corner from my work, piles of boxes, shower curtains, and all - which is where I got my "foundation" piece to wear under my wedding gown last fall. Like you, I am possessed of the massive rack, small waist, and range of shirt sizes.
In my case, though, it was 2 very pleasant saleswomen in their 50's who, unannounced, barged into my "dressing room" and maneuvered my unclothed breasts into the proper garment. Modesty? Forget about it.
7 | Erin | April 21, 2005 03:49 PM
that is so rokken. i totally need to get my arse down to somewhere to get one of these, though i haven't a clue where to actually do this. the shame of being not a clothes horse is surely threatening to force me into the yellow pages. le sigh.
8 | devlyn | April 21, 2005 04:12 PM
It totally reminds me of the Harry Potter wand-purchasing experience. You don't choose the bra, the bra chooses YOU.
9 | rachel | April 21, 2005 04:40 PM
i have the exact same problem. size 4-6 waist and 38DD's. i feel your pain. and i must come to nyc and see this man that you speak of!
10 | mc | April 21, 2005 05:03 PM
i have the exact same problem. size 4-6 waist and 38DD's. i feel your pain.
and i must come to nyc and see this man that you speak of!
11 | mc | April 21, 2005 05:08 PM
well add me to the growing club of big boobies/ small waist. i wish they had a magical shop like this in my neighborhood... i loathe the multiple try-ons of most stores.
12 | kate | April 21, 2005 06:36 PM
I saw "A Good Uplift" when Lunafest came to town. I totally envisioned you here, in the LES, at this place. But alas, it sounds like you didn't go where Magda was!
http://www.lunabar.com/community/lunafest.cfm?DocumentId=107
13 | ~Kabe | April 21, 2005 11:40 PM
Delurking to chime in with the ditto. oh, man. I wish there were places such as this in SF (I've been searching and searching!). Pretty please, Deb, email me the name of this magical shop! I'm totally willing to go bicoastal for boobie support.
congratulations on the upcoming event!
14 | ruby | April 22, 2005 04:11 PM
But was it comfortable?
15 | Frankenstein | April 22, 2005 04:12 PM
I had the same problem with my wedding attire. Watch out though! I neglected to try on the corset with the dress until the last minute. Turned out the corset looked awful under the satin gown. I ended up folding the bra cups (DDD) under for the big day so they wouldn't show through. Looked RIDICULOUS when I took off my dress to pee. I swear to god bigs tits are a curse.
16 | Amanda | April 22, 2005 04:25 PM
i have read about this guy, and lo, next time i am in the City i must go there. your story gives life to what i thot was merely Urban Legend when i read about it (was it the new yorker? i think so)
17 | kristin | April 25, 2005 12:50 AM
Awh. I was in NYC a couple of weeks ago. If only I had known.
I *hate* going bra shopping, but I really really need to.
18 | Trixie | April 25, 2005 07:02 AM
Hey -- where is the Bra Guy? I want to go see him.
19 | Louise | July 18, 2005 11:01 AM