Fancy Pants

I want to say it started innocently enough, but that might just be a lie. It started with ulterior motives. In an attempt to change my dating karma a while ago, I started replacing the regular old underwear with the good stuff. Out went the white cotton standards; in came the plunges, the demis, the balconettes…the boy shorts, the hipsters, the cheekies. My thought was that if I felt gorgeous underneath, I'd start dating like a fiend again. That I'd have a most delicious little secret.

And I thought it was just me until a week or so ago. I met a girlfriend of mine for dinner. But, she informed me as she slid into the seat across from me, she had to go shopping for underwear. That night. After dinner. There was a date with a hottie to be had, and preparations were necessary. It wasn't exactly that she planned to show them, she explained as she folded the napkin in her lap, but she just felt powerful in them.

It's no surprise, of course, that Victoria's Secret, Fredericks, and Cacique have made billions of dollars pedaling satin and lace and bows as a prequel to sex. But were these pretty, feminine things only to be used when you knew you could hook up or make love? I contended no, given that wasn't what I used them for, or apparently, what my friends used them for. But it did make me start wondering who exactly these items were being purchased for. Was it for the boyfriend or husband, who may or may not notice? Or was it for us, for the women who were wearing them?

At least in my case, it's just for me. These days, it's not so much about changing my dating karma...it's that I like wearing pretty things. Now, it's just to know that—in the middle of a day packed full of meetings and deadlines and rush-hour traffic—I have spent a few minutes on myself to pick out something beautiful that helps me remember that I'm still girly and feminine. And if my delicious little secret helps me feel confident, if it makes me smile when I straighten a strap, then so be it.

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