Whenever I think back on my twenties, I clearly recall that one of the hallmarks of becoming a young woman was making the happy transition from sensible cotton bras and panties to dangerously delicious underthings made of shimmering satins replete with hooks and latches, hoochiepuckers and whatzits.
New-found access to silky delectables ranging from push-up bras, lacy panties, garter belts, bustiers, corsets, and the mysteriously-named camiknicker redefined what it meant to “wear some decent underwear in case you got hit by a truck.” In fact, attainable lingerie was such a fresh notion that prior to the hard marketing of lingerie in the late 1970’s to the young American woman demographic, most underwear selections were relegated to the Sears & Roebuck catalog, department store alcoves, or for the very adventurous – a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog. In 1977, things started to change when a guy that was too embarrassed to purchase frilly skivvies for his bride in a department store venue took his nest egg and used it to open a small store in San Francisco. He thereafter expanded to catalog sales with sexy-sounding phone operators and the rest is history.
Meanwhile, for a young gal that spent most of her waking hours in woolies and raingear on deck, the Victoria’s Secret collections were an added motivation to keep me working through the storms. Nothing says “Secret” like wearing a bustier beneath your bibs. Besides, I am a firm believer in keeping the naughty in nautical. And as men would come and go, so did my catalogs and lingerie. I am okay with that, because I like to update all my collections every so often.
Over the years, Victoria’s Secret has become so entirely mainstream that they are now the largest lingerie retailer in the U.S. Additionally, they have increased their markets by incorporating supermodels and annual nationally televised fashion extravaganzas into the formula beginning in the 1990’s. In fact, as this post goes to press, the Angels will be purring down the catwalk on prime time television to the beats of Katy Perry and Akon. I will be writing final papers and not thinking much about my bloomers.
Boys and girls, if you are longing for a quick peek at supermodels with vejazzled vejayjays and enormous wings, check this out: