Slip n’ Slide: the Lost Art of Undergarments
I was just going to write an e-mail to ask you to tell your readers to remember to wear a dang slip, already. But that’s assuming you wear slips and support my slip-wearing ideals. So I ask: do you have feelings one way or the other about slips? I see so many young women around my age who have either not heard of a slip or forgo wearing one when they totally should. They smooth your skirt! And make your skirt not see through! And make you look classy, not trashy.
Yes, I heart Slips
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to go on the record of being all-around pro-undergarments of any and all kinds. Bras, slips, panties, camisoles, even the occasional slimming girdle-type thing. I think these are all fantastic, necessary items. Wear them. Love them. Bask in their gentle, loving modesty.
My mother taught me that ladies always wear slips and other essential undergarments, and always keep their knees together while they get out of cars, so I guess I can blame her for the fact that I have never once been featured in People magazine. (Seriously! Knees tightly together, tilt knees out car door. Ankles tightly together, move feet to outside of car. Stand up, with a hand on your skirt hem just to be sure. Try it! It’s fun to not be a hot mess sometimes.)
I have noticed, however, that slips have fallen far out of favor recently. They’re hard to even FIND, as I learned when I went to visit my parents and remembered my white linen skirt but forgot my slip (the same white slip I’ve been wearing since high school). My mom and I went to the mall and I wandered around the lingerie department at Macy’s, searching in vain for a plain old slip. I finally asked the saleswoman and she stared at me blankly, then pointed at the girdles and cinchers and shapers.
(So basically: thin girls = slipless and slutty?)
I kind of felt like…breathing in my white linen skirt so we left the department store and checked out Victoria’s Secret. There we were confronted with a bunch of very expensive things that were maybe slips, but were maybe also nightgowns, and were also bright pink and covered in bows and other non-smooth details.
We got back in the car and drove to Wal-Mart, where I found a stupid white half-slip for about five bucks. Honestly.
I don’t wear slips EVERY time I wear a skirt or a dress, but you can bet your sweet bippy I wear one when 1) my skirt is even the slightest bit see-through, 2) my skirt has an up-to-there slit (just because I’d rather you see my slip than the wide pasty expanse of my inner thigh), 3) I’m wearing hose and I notice that annoying rustling sound and/or bunching, or 4) static electricity. Argh.