Stripping down to the truth about lingerie

At first glance, lingerie may seem like a relatively lackluster topic. After all, it’s really just some fancy underwear—something that’s not even seen by most people. However, from my experience, lingerie is not only something erotic, but also a source of anything from confidence to self-doubt.

Considering that it’s something that pretty much only a woman and someone who gets to take her clothes off are able to see, lingerie is very intimate. Victoria got it right—lingerie is a secret, and if anyone wants to be let in on it, some measure of familiarity is necessary. However, in this age of billboard ads and immense online photo galleries, lingerie has lost a lot of the mysterious aura and naughty connotations that it perhaps once had.

With its transition from a private garment to a publicly discussed and heavily advertised item, lingerie’s placement in society has also changed. Writers have discussed how porn affects women’s self-confidence in bed, causing them to compare themselves to insanely high standards, but the power of the lingerie ad has been overlooked. Unlike porn, which presents surreal scenarios and characters, and generally gives everything away without hesitation, the lingerie ad is subtle, hinting to both men and women that the lifestyle it presents is accessible, and full of unmentionable pleasures. Victoria’s Secret is made for the average woman, but when walking by the storefront, most women probably feel that the models represent an impossible ideal. Yet, they buy into this image, trying their hardest to look like Heidi Klum with the purchase of a cheap, badly designed corset.

This is a theory, of course, and most of the reactions I got from my friends were that lingerie makes them feel sexy, whether anyone sees them wearing it or not. Some of the women I spoke to said that lingerie might even empower females by giving them a hidden self-assurance on days when they’re feeling down.

Men that I talked to basically saw lingerie as the icing on a cake, or the wrapping on a present. One said that “it makes a cute girl hot,” but most cared more about taking it off than looking at it. After all, underwear isn’t art—it’s meant to be used.

For me, lingerie has definitely been a big part of the process of growing up and finding my inner sexual confidence. Putting it on for the first time felt awkward, and I wondered whether I’d even look good in it. It took me a little while to realize that, as with any other clothing, how I wore it mattered more than what exactly it looked like. Cowering and being embarrassed isn’t sexy whether you wear a black lacy thong or not.

I must confess also that at one point a few years ago, lingerie became a point of near obsession for me. I had been fighting with my boyfriend at the time, not noticing all the signs of a dying relationship. I was vulnerable enough that when he made a flippant comment—in the heat of battle—connecting his problematic behavior to the fact that he had not seen me in lingerie for a long time, I decided that buying hordes of underwear would fix everything. Even after we broke up, I continued stockpiling panties and bras as if in preparation for a raid during which I wouldn’t be able to wash clothes for at least a month.

Fortunately, I’m relatively sane most of the time, so I got over lingerie, figuring out that being self-assured ups sexiness a thousand times more than some lace and silk. It’s a cliché, but it’s true: It’s what’s inside that counts.