SKIN TRADE
What is it that makes underwear dumpy, campy, or sexy? As I walked through the F.I.T. exhibit Exposed: A History of Lingerie, a survey of womens undergarments from the nineteenth century to the present, it seemed that each of the ensembles fell straight away into one of these three categories. And the category into which it fell had precious little to do with its vintage, or the amount of flesh it left exposed.
A black corset by Lady Marlene and a satin teddy by Patricia Fieldwalker, both from the 1980’s, and both trimmed in fine black lace, are worlds apart. The corset is cut classically, with softly swelling curve along the top and bottom, and the teddy is cut dramatically, climbing super-high at the thighs and dipping super-low at the cleavage. But the teddy feels, somehow, stale, as if it’s trying too hard. Some pale green silk “caminickers” (a slip with concealed shorts) from 1924, that just skim the hips and breasts, seem infinitely more sophisticated than a bra and briefs from the 1930’s, which fit close to the body and bare the midriff, but are cut from coarse white knits. A 2006 Agent Provocateur leopard print bra and panty set, elaborately pieced and trimmed with thin black satin ribbon, is terrifically camp, while a giraffe print set by Rudi Gernreich, from forty years earlier, with the simple lines of a bikini bathing suit, seems effortlessly sexy. It’s those underthings that flatter the figure without constraining it, that allow its shape to show through, that entice.