I was never one to splurge on lingerie. I needed to wrangle the girls and guard against inadvertent exposure of my business should a brisk wind pick up my skirt, but in my twenties, those were the extent of my thoughts on intimates. Bras and panties were necessary evils which were just going to be tossed off in seconds by my boyfriends, I reasoned. I bought nylon stockings and stocked up on satin and lycra and polyester blend bras and panties from department stores or the Victoria's Secret Summer Sale.
But this was the late 80's and I was turned off by silk, big time. Silk blouses with big bows at the neck and puffy sleeves and tightly buttoned wristbands. Worn under jackets as part of a corporate Cagney & Lacey-cum-LA Law ensemble. Worn by my grandmother at Junior League functions. Silk blouses gave me nightmares.
Then, about five years ago, I kind of fell in love with my body again: My tits are still a boingy 34D (Shocking, considering they've fed two babies), and the rest of me is generally a pleasing sight. I was gifted with my first pair of silk stockings. And I loved them.
I started appreciating silk for its understated allure, its rich--not garish--luster, its, well, silkiness. So, I reasoned to myself, If I'm going to be something other than naked, I would prefer to wear something a) pretty and b) soft and which makes me feel c) beautiful.
Something like this:
Ç'est si sexy, non?
I'm not sure how it'll happen, but I am surrendering this post to the universe, in the hopes that this ensemble becomes my own. I get all flustered just looking at it.
I can't think of many things hotter than sliding around atop a naked Kelly wearing this set, and then using the bra ties for, um, other things. Now that would be a good story.