![]() (No.) A pair of lace panties cut so high a 19-year-old ballerina wouldn’t risk them. (No.) Black leather pasties with tiny yellow ribbons, for $103. The saleswoman takes me back to the racks, so to speak, and I notice some items I missed the first time: A latex bra and panties. “I’ve decided to broaden my horizons,” I say. I also realize I don’t want to buy anything I can’t first try on. if you are 70 and regret never having been a porn star, it is not too late to realize your dream. Whatever problems we have in America, we are rich in our abundance of crotchless underwear and 2. I go home and Google "sexy lingerie," then "sexy lingerie older women." I have two things to say about this: 1. There may be postmenopausal women my age who are entirely fat free here, but in my experience, they require medical treatment. Neither is a bustier that comes to my waist, the equivalent of a yellow traffic light pointing to your belly. They include lace underwear, which I realize only when I put it on has a small round key-hole in the back. I take a dozen items into the fitting room and a dozen out. Once again a lot of the prettiest bras and panties do not go up to my size. I continue the lingerie search and go uptown to a department store. There is no body it does not fit and you will have an excellent time, once you both stop laughing. A floor-length veil, ladies, is a boudoir item I cannot recommend highly enough. I made a quick visit to a thrift shop and, as a gag, walked into the sitting room in satin high heels and a floor-length wedding veil. I spend so much time in fantasy land I’ve thought of building a house there and I’m always up for perking things up with a few surprises.Ī few years ago the guy I was seeing told me he was reserving a hotel bridal suite for a weekend. The saleswoman, who has a jolly, accepting attitude that suggests if I were dating a horse she would find something suitable (fishnet jodhpurs from the look of some of the items in this store) is off and running.īut there is one big problem, which I have already encountered at other lingerie stores: A lot of the prettiest bras and camisoles and bustiers are too small or designed for a premenopausal body, as if women of a certain age no longer have a fantasy life. I walk in and find I’m feeling a little self-conscious and don’t know exactly what to say.īut this, in a lingerie shop, turns out to be the very best thing you can say - the equivalent of a trader walking into a Porsche showroom and saying he had just got his bonus. The last thing I remember was sheer black panties with a wide hot pink ribbon that tied at the back, which suggested one would have to back into the room to make the appropriate impact, then use a hand mirror to see how it had gone over. Their window displays are so outrageous, I usually stop and laugh. ![]() ![]() I'm not sure her leopard-print bra is my look.īut I do want something a little wild, so I trot off to an extravagant, high-end store in my neighborhood. ![]() What, as a 65-year-old woman, could I get that would be hot and not farcical? My template for hot middle-aged sexuality, imprinted on my brain when I was in college, is Anne Bancroft in "The Graduate," but the truth is she was only 36 when that movie came out. “You could get into bed in something silky and pretend to be absorbed in a book.”īut there was a problem here. Whaddya think, should I pose in the door with my mouth partly open or crawl into the room on my hands and knees with my mouth partly open? I don’t want to seem too obvious.” Still, the boyfriend shopping invitation got me thinking that maybe I should get something special for the next time he visits - that stuff you see in Victoria’s Secret ads on the women with masses of hair and partly open mouths whose expressions suggest they exist in a parallel universe where all they do is get ready for sex. The first time you do it you’re nervous and you have to psych yourself up, but after that it’s easy. It reminded me of what they say about killing a man. This winter I passed the $100 bra mark, which I swore I would never do. I don’t mind spending a lot of money on it, either. There is nothing wrong with my lingerie, by the way. I have never in my life fished and I do not relish either slamming a fish’s head against a rock or releasing it after tearing up its mouth, which I figure is also no great pleasure for the fish. I declined, which was a probably a mistake, because the next thing you know, driving back home to Tennessee, he is sending me a picture of the fishing rod he has just bought for me and speaking enthusiastically about trout fishing. The guy who is now the official boyfriend told me he’d like to take me shopping for lingerie last weekend.
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