Semper Ubi Sub Ubi

The Other Side of Corsetry

What is it about corsets, girdles, satin and white shirts that can be so fascinating? When does this fascination begin? Is it confined to the only child? We try to answer some of these questions and, quite frankly, we fail because most people who have these fascinations have no clue themselves. What we do know is that we are entering a 'grey area' where the confinement of the corset can stray into the fetish world of bondage; where the allure of satin, be it in a dress or on a girdle can provoke a desire to try on the garment in question. By necessity this will be clandestine and may stray beyond what is acceptable behaviour. Nobody goes out to acquire a fetish, it is a mysterious force that comes from within. All we can do here is to recount the tales of others and to refrain from being judgemental. Once the 'grey area' has been entered, it is hard to leave and may well lead beyond the other side.

The little piece of dog Latin above refers to the old schoolboy's motto "Semper ubi sub ubi" literally "Always where under where". This poor joke is but the puerile tip of an enormous iceberg of prurient interest in underwear; specifically, the interest of men for ladies underwear.

The closest occasion to confinement occurred during my involvement in a perfectly normal wedding. I was asked to be a bridesmaid and at a time when I normally wore a girdle, I elected to achieve a desirable shape by wearing my classic (but rarely worn) Spirella 305. My friend, at her Mother's insistence, wore a 315, the back-lacer, that came up high in the back and reached well over her hips. She looked utterly fabulous (much nicer than me). It took me ages to help my friend dress, the process being complicated by the corset and the back fastening of the dress which was covered by at least 30 buttons. There was no way that my friend could release herself from the dress and corset without help. In fact, I remember having great difficulty in removing my own dress that evening since my arms filled the sleeves so tightly that reaching behind my head to undo the zip was nigh on impossible. That simple and innocent request, so common in the 1960's, "Zip me up Darling" shows how we accepted confinement on a daily basis back then. 

A correspondent relates how at a cousin's wedding, the bridesmaids had to wear culotte dresses. In the fashion of the times, the dresses, including the bride's covered from neck to ankle to cuff. No escape was possible. The design forced the wearer to adopt the new pantie-girdle making any 'comfort break' quite impossible. She remembers hating the whole experience and that (she actually mentions the word) the confinement was in some way humiliating. Nevertheless, the heavy satin outfit brought her many appreciative looks including some blatant staring from some of the men present. We deal with satin below.

Following this train of thought, consider any formal function, a wedding in the 1960's would be a good example. The bride needs bridesmaids to control the flowing train. She needs help to alight from car, even to sit down, and undressing by herself is impossible. Her mother, heroically girdled to fit a dress two sizes too small barely dares to breathe. Her feet ache in unaccustomed shoes and any attempt to sit causes her thighs to spring open alarmingly. Granny totters around, the rubber, elastic and steel contraption that is her  foundation confining her locomotion to that of a marionette. Even the gorgeous young thing in the modern twin set is reduced by her panty-girdle, pencil skirt and heels to a ludicrous mincing gait. Not one of the ladies can sit in comfort, going to the loo is a nightmare, and nobody walks in the way that nature intended. An extreme example perhaps? I don't think so, and that's why everybody stands at weddings! The St. Johns Ambulance helpers at any royal garden party, spends hours attending to blistered feet and not so long ago had to free a number of ladies from their over-tightened corsets!

Of course there are many other methods of confining the neck resulting from medical needs:

Two women wearing Cervical Thoracic Lumbar Sacral Orthoses; a pretty satin corset that supports a clear celluloid neck support and a pretty girl with a plaster body cast under her summer frock. No neck movement here!

Chin up girls! Not an option really.

Long Corsets

Neck Corsets and Teeth Corsets!

Of course, these can be worn for medical reasons, however, elements of fantasy abound here. Just as the body is confined by the corset, so the neck can be confined also, however, tight-lacing these corsets obviously carries extreme danger. On the left we see an example of teeth corsets! Basically, this lady in 1974 wanted to lose weight and asked her dentist to wire her jaws together, an uncommon, but certainly not unknown practice. He fitted upper and lower braces that were pulled together by means of the strong elastic bands.

Most of these women seem to be at ease with their neckwear although the girl at the top right is less sure.

Dior was an expert at this sort of thing. Regard below a sequence of stills from another fashion show of the early 1950s. Dior, of course, mandated the 'nipped in' waist and produced the corsets and girdles required to achieve this, but his dresses in sumptuous satin, the elaborate coats in lustrous, weighty satin, the hobbling effect of the long skirt and the knowledge that the woman was ever so tightly confined in (presumably) a satin girdle were a fetishist's dream.

I can relate two tales from my (and my husband's) own experiences. A teacher of my acquaintance wore a satin blouse to school on a few occasions but had to stop since the frank stares of the adolescent males in her class became unnerving. The blouse was cut conservatively and was no different from her normal working attire other then the material. My husband tells of a Sunday lunch in the 1950's at which his Aunt and Uncle were invited. A young boy, well before puberty, he became fascinated by the shiny material of his Aunt's dress. During lunch he surreptitiously touched his Aunt's skirt which, to his mortification, she noticed and made comment. The adults passed off the incident with the usual "Oh, you shouldn't have given the child a glass of wine", and, "Well, he's growing up fast, you'd better watch out". My husband remembers the episode vividly.

On the left we have the archetypal 1950's - 60's girdle. Was this combination of elastic, satin panels, boning and zips the garment that triggered a thousand male fantasies? Who can tell? My husband suggests that, indeed, on the east side of the Atlantic perhaps it was. On the west side, the American pantie-girdle (right) may have played more of a part. Interestingly, the British pantie-girdle that supplanted the girdle in the late 1960's, was a feeble cousin to the American version. It seems that the important ingredients were strength and confinement, but with that critical catalyst, satin.

Amazingly, Lawrence Oliver dons a girdle for a 1964 charity show at the London Palladium where a number of famous stars appeared in drag (23rd July 1964 - The Night of A Hundred Stars). Was there any real necessity for the girdle, for frankly it does little to modify his male figure. But we all wore girdles then! In the background of the third picture sits a nervous-looking Kenneth More, apparently not happy with this change from his usual character. The gentleman on the right seems to be enjoying himself!

Of course, we have to include Peter Sellers here. He seems to have had a fascination with corsets, witness Sophia Loren in the Millionairess (1960). However, his own attempt is far less glamorous - I mean what can you expect when you're talking to a green frog! (Muppet Show, episode 219 in 1978. Kermit finds Peter Sellers dressed in a Viking's helmet, corset, wig and boxing glove - a grand impersonation of her late majesty, Queen Victoria... but he'd forgotten what she looked like.)

Apocryphal stories abound of new underwear company executives being initiated by wearing the latest girdle. I doubt if this has ever been true, certainly not for the male employees, however, it seems to make for a good joke in the gentlemen's' locker room of the golf club. The classic joke on this subject is the male golfer who is found to be wearing a girdle. "How long have you had to wear that?", his friends ask. "Ever since my wife found it in the car", he replies!

Another gentleman related his first experiences of the other side. As a young teenager, he unmercifully teased his elder sister when she stalked the house in curlers, creams, and her nylon wrap barely concealing her bra and girdle. One day she snapped and he was shocked by the venom of her verbal assault. To this day, he cannot say where the impulse came from, but when he was left alone in the house later that day, he felt a desire to try on her bra and girdle as some obscure revenge. He claims that it was the most erotic experience of his life and in short order he had tried on some of her clothes and soon had advanced to wearing his mother's even more substantial girdles. He was hooked for life.

Another account, this time from the man, tries to pin-point the cause of these desires. As a child, the family used to tow their small caravan down to the sea-side in the summer. Modesty dictated that father and son got dressed first and then left the caravan whilst mother got dressed. On rainy days mother would writhe and contort under the sheets as she donned her bra and stockings but she had to stand up to get into her girdle. "I'm going to get dressed now - and NO peeking!" Inevitably the man got his first glimpses of a woman struggling into her girdle. The first time this happened, the man was unimpressed, but as time went on, he became unaccountably obsessed with a desire to touch this article of clothing for himself, but why? To this day he has no idea, but the obsession is as powerful as it was all those decades ago.

There are many tales of boys and men, who once attired in whatever stimulates them, find it impossible to escape. It is the back zip that causes problems since most men (and many women "Would you zip me up Darling?") are not double-jointed enough to pull the zip to the top, or once zipped up to release it. The famous British comedian, Ted Ray, appeared in a situation comedy where he tried on his wife's dress and used a nail in the wall to pull the zip all the way up. Of course, the nail snagged the dress and he was left trapped on the wall until his angry wife could release her humiliated husband. A friend's son was caught in tears of shame having tried on his sister's satin party dress (satin appears once again) using a string through the zip tag. Once zipped up, the string unfortunately became undone and the wretched youth was trapped. Either he burst the zip of a rather expensive dress or got caught, and either way spelt trouble!

We have mentioned elsewhere that corsets can split due to age or defective materials. This happened to one poor teenager who, over-nighting at his auntie's house, found a bedroom drawer that contained her corsets. He had previously tried on his mother's girdles and was excited at the chance to wear a real corset. Unused to the complexity of a laced garment, it took a while to get the corset fastened but he eventually succeeded. The unaccustomed pressure of the garment was hugely exciting and he adjusted the laces to make the corset as tight as possible. He then tried to sit down and as he lowered himself onto the bed - catastrophe - the corsets split up one of the seams. He got the wretched things off and replaced them at the back of the drawer. He lived for months in fear of an angry call from his aunt, but no call came. He was lucky; in all probability his aunt would had given up her corsets years before but could not bear to part with such expensive items. I strongly suspect that a number of adolescents have spent days and sleepless nights in the fear that having moved or worn a garment, they have not replaced it as they found it. In reality, women are not usually that careful!

Damaging a garment is a real risk for the closet dresser. A gentleman recounted that as a teenager in the 1960's, he loved to try on his older sister's girdles. Apparently his mother's underwear was rather too big for him. One day, he split a Playtex panty-girdle whilst removing it and in an agony of apprehension, stuffed it into a bin some miles away from home. The loss of the girdle was never mentioned, but did his sister know of his clandestine activities? He never knew.

We have mentioned the allure of satin (above). I knew of a lady who was deeply concerned for her son since she had caught him wearing her girdles. The family was very Welsh and very traditional and the lady had kept her son's desires secret from the father whose reaction was likely to be quite explosive. Like many women, she migrated from her girdles to panty-girdles at the end of the 1960's, but this did not stop her son's activities. She even made her son wear one of her panty-girdles for a whole day's outing but she was worried that this might exacerbate the problem. After some years, she realised that her girdle drawer had remained unmolested for months. She asked her son about this and he explained that her girdles no longer contained any satin panels. She had been unaware of the design change (a girdle's a girdle) but for her son, it was a fundamental element of his desire. She was immensely relieved and chose satin-less underwear after that but she often wondered if her son's desires would find some other outlet.

Another recurring theme, that possibly starts pre-puberty and continues into adulthood, is the fascination for women wearing some sort of uniform. However, not just any uniform as I'm sure statistics on this subject would reveal. The uniform must contain that essential ingredient, the crisp white shirt or blouse. Where does this start? Is it the adolescent views of girls, possibly sisters in their school or riding attire? Whatever the cause, the end result is that groups as diverse as the local gymkhana club, policewomen, WRNS officers and airline stewardesses attract an unusual amount of attention as the following account shows:

In 1968, a young man (teenager) was delighted to find out that his female cousin had been commissioned as a Wren officer. He often visited their house with his mother and determined to get a good look at his cousin's uniform as soon as possible. This he did whilst his aunt and mother were chatting in the garden. He tried on the jacket of the uniform but really it was the white shirt that interested him but he realised that the collar would be far too tight. He wanted to investigate the girl's underwear drawer but again, his courage failed him. Trying on the jacket was as far as he dared go, but subsequently he accumulated a number of photos of his cousin and one, which he treasured, showed her with her jacket off in crisp, white-shirted splendour. 

I was absolutely stunned once by an old woman who I had engaged in conversation at a retirement home. She said, when she learned of our interest in corsetry, "My husband used to wear my corsets."  I was stunned, and at a loss as to how to reply and I asked if he had a bad back. "No" she said quite openly "He just liked to try them on, it, you know, stimulated him." Apparently the couple had been happily married for over 50 years; her late husband was pleasant, well regarded and completely unexceptional other than for his secret desire. The woman had reacted sensibly, realising that this desire was controlled, harmless and probably good for their marriage. She simply accepted it in an era when most women would not have done.

Recently (2018), one of our models asked us if we ever dealt with male corsetry. Of course there have been corsets made for men for centuries but it is not part of our interest or collection. She then regaled us with a tale not dissimilar to that above. Her aunt had been 'dresser' to an aristocratic family and was familiar with the corsets and sumptuous gowns that her employer wore. As dresser she was responsible for keeping the gowns, dresses and underwear in immaculate condition. She suspected quite soon into the job that after going to a ball or similar social gathering, her 'ladyship' apparently would disembark from her finery in her dressing room where her husband would secretly sneak it into his own bedroom and would then dress up in his wife's discarded attire; bra, corsets, stockings, the lot. Sometimes he must have slept in them that rendered some of the dresses almost impossibly creased. This amazing information was confirmed years later by the titled lady herself who one day, long after her husband had passed away, asked if my friend's aunt realised that her husband enjoyed wearing her discarded clothes. The aunt confirmed that she had strongly suspected that his was the case, however, she was shocked to learn that this all took place with her ladyship's knowledge and approval. Apparently, after the social engagement, the couple would gather in her bedroom and talk into the small hours over a whisky or three, she in her dressing gown and he in her ball gown.

A rather sad tale came our way concerning a married man who had an urge to dress as a woman. His wife did not understand or encourage this and his fantasies remain unfulfilled until the day that his wife agreed for him to try on some of her clothes. She was quite firm with him and hoped that the experience would 'get it out of his system' once and for all. To this end, she made him wear the full works with bra, girdle, stockings, slip, dress, full make-up and a wig. The result was totally unexpected. The man looked grotesque and felt ashamed and humiliated, the experience certainly not living up to his fantastical desires. His wife, on the other hand, derived considerable satisfaction from her husband thus attired and proceeded to encourage him to dress up more often, an act that the husband was now loathe to do. Fantasies should stay as fantasies.

One poor woman related the sad tale that she had spent years trying to get her daughter to wear 'proper foundation garments' only to discover that her son had been secretly wearing 'proper foundation garments' for years and was more than willing to try on his sister's and even her own girdles.

Another lady recounted an incident at a wedding where her teenage son and daughter were involved as usher and bridesmaid. It was obvious to the mother that the son was less than comfortable as he sat through the service. "Are you OK?" she asked him afterwards. He was non-committal, however, his sister piped up "I think he's finding my panty-girdle rather uncomfortable." Back at home the truth came out that the sister, aware that her brother had developed an unhealthy interest in her underwear, challenged him to wear the girdle for a full day. The mother simply did not know whether to laugh or to be concerned, however, the incident was never repeated - as far as she knew anyway and that was good enough for her. 

Sometimes, however, things are not so easy. An American lady recounted that awful day when her daughter came to her in floods of tears. "Jimmy's been wearing my girdle." The lady was shocked but sensibly realised that all the diplomatic powers that mothers need would be called upon. Firstly she had to pacify her daughter; then she had to have a difficult interview with her son; then she had to broker a peace treaty between son and daughter; then she had to make sure that her husband would not find out. Finally, a thought occurred to her and she asked her son if he had ever tried on her underwear. Predictably the answer was "no", however, she checked her drawers regularly thereafter.

Rarely does my husband receive correspondence on corsetry, however, the following tales came to light recently (dated 2007). Basically, the author was asking if a passion for girdles could have been started by the following episode, vividly remembered.

The lady next door is a frail, wispy 90-year-old, but 35 years ago, when I was starting university, she must have been 55. That’s amazing, that’s nearly my own age these days. My mother didn’t really like our neighbour, who she regarded as a bit ‘racy’, moreover, her daughter had recently been divorced. In those days, divorce was quite rare and confined to the stars of Hollywood, not London suburbia. Certainly, one habit of this lady of which my mother strongly disapproved, came to light one hot afternoon in 1969. Our ancient gardener was tending the roses when he suddenly stopped still, and remained immobile gazing through the roses across the fence. My mother thought that perhaps he was ill until she followed his light of sight. There in our neighbour’s garden was Mrs. G, watering her own plants attired in long-line bra and a waist-slip. What lay beneath the slip was evidenced by the row of pantie-girdles strung on the washing-line. My mother tut-tutted vigorously and the gardener guiltily averted his gaze; but I didn’t! I was fascinated, never having seen a woman in her underwear before. I looked forward to the hot days after that, and Mrs. G rarely disappointed!

I suspect that the gentleman was already well along the road towards his latent desires, and that some earlier episode in his early teenage would have been the trigger for his passion.

When I was a young teenager in the early 1950s, I caught a glimpse of my granny getting dressed (her door was not quite closed shut as she presumably imagined). I was fascinated by the intricate lacing of her pink corsets that I later learned was fan-lacing. She was devoted to these creative confections and, I must say, she enjoyed a far better figure than my mother. I was hooked.

and another from 1967:-

My parents had friends in Woking who we visited a few times a year. Their daughter was much older than me and I had little to do with her, but one day when we arrived, her mother greeted us with an arm full of female things. I remember Mrs D. saying that she was just taking her daughter's smalls upstairs since she had just left for university. Curiosity lead me upstairs later to investigate these smalls and I remember feeling faint at the sight of some truly sturdy panty-girdles lying on the bed. Her wardrobe contained two bridesmaid dresses, one in pink and another in pale blue. The pale blue one was made of satin and I remember to this day the feel and the discrete odour of that high quality satin.

Once again, satin features and, not for the first time, the subtle odour of the material is mentioned.

Another much longer missive recalls life in Wales c. 1950:-

I was brought up in a working class family and can recall quite vividly that my mother and her sister both wore Excelsior corsetry in a pinky colour which I believe is known as `tea-rose'.  My maternal grandmother, who lived in a remote village, appeared to be a faithful mail-order customer of Ambrose Wilson.  

My mother was also on the Ambrose Wilson mailing list but on the odd occasion she would bring home an Excelsior brochure which had been loaned to her by her sister.  When it was convenient, the two ladies would discuss the pros and cons of the garments in both catalogues but Excelsior appeared to be the most favoured company.  For some reason my grandmother's purchases would also crop up in the conversation.  My mother and aunt were both of average height and build for ladies at that time but my grandmother had a much larger frame and was also a good inch or so taller.  Perhaps each company favoured the two different sizes in their own particular way. All three women wore the back laced type with keyhole type fastenings at the front.  

We lived in a two-up, two-down terraced house and for reasons which I will not go into, on two occasions I had to share my room with my aunt.  Being in my early teens and of school age I would retire to bed earlier than the rest of the household but I `refused to go to sleep for I cherished the thought of watching my aunt get undressed. She was always impeccably dressed and wore her directoire knickers over her corset.  In undressing she would undo her suspenders and remove her stockings before unfastening the clips at the front of her corset. She would then remove her corset from inside her knickers and place it on stool in the room before donning her nightie. The morning ritual was slightly more complex but somehow she managed to roll her corset on to her torso without lowering her knickers. She would then put on her stockings, taking great care to ensure that the seams were straight, before adjusting the elasticated legs of her knickers.

I can remember quite vividly my aunt arriving at our house one autumn evening in a real fluster.  Apparently the cord had snapped in her corset and she was completely out of kilter.  My mother agreed to fix it for her and without more ado my aunt lifted her skirt to the waist, and leant against the dining table whilst my mother adjusted the lace and tied off the broken ends.  My eyes stood out like chapel hat pegs in sheer amazement!  I can still visualise the sight of my mother fumbling inside those magnificent pale blue directoire knickers!  In this strictly PC but enlightened age it is almost unbelievable that this actually happened but it did.

Typical correspondence from men include the following revelations:-

This letter recently received (2017) from a 66-year-old gentleman is exactly the sort of correspondence that is most useful in terms of dates and fashions. "I cannot remember when my obsession with women's underwear began but it was certainly pre-teenage. I used to try on my mother's girdles until 1965 when she got rid of the open-bottom style and bought a panty-girdle. For some reason, it felt wrong to wear this item although I wanted to. I know the date because we went on our first foreign holiday and I checked my mother's suitcase to look at her panty-girdle; I was fascinated by the little satin diamond panel on the front and just to touch this was exciting for me. About the same time, I used to try on one of my aunt's girdles when we visited her. She wasn't actually an aunt but in those days, close family friends were referred to as such. She was quite a formidable, wealthy, well-dressed woman whose vanity overlooked her varicose veins. In 1967, we attended a wedding and I couldn't wait to see what my mother, the aunt and the bride and bridesmaids might be wearing; I was hoping for satin, satin and more satin. What a disappointment! The bride and her attendants were clad in matt silk, my mother wore a blue woollen dress and my aunt a suit of some cotton material. No satin, no shiny garments. I visited the aunt a few weeks later and her girdles were gone replaced by a panty-girdle like my mother's. I found the garment fascinating but somehow I felt it wrong to wear it and I never visited her cupboards again." This missive has it all. The desire to try on a woman's underwear, the allure of satin and the strange morality that allowed the gentleman to wear a woman's girdle (that he knew was wrong) but prevented him from wearing a panty-girdle. The enclosure of the crotch area seems to have been taboo to his private moral code.

The letter above drew a response from an American gentleman who had a different moral code. "In my teenage years, I used to help out with chores for our neighbour, an attractive widow who I guess would've been about 60. She trusted me to work around the house whilst she went shopping and often I used to enter her dressing room and at first just have a look at her panty-girdles. Eventually, I just had to try one on and I was hooked - I loved the constriction and the feel of the satin panels. I was careful and only tried on the girdle in the bathroom in case she returned unexpectedly. Of course, one day she did return and came immediately upstairs. I flushed the toilet to explain my presence and quickly pulled my clothes on over the girdle. Surely there would a chance to divest it later on. I emerged and she asked me to come downstairs for a glass of lemonade. We sat together at the kitchen table, she drinking coffee and me sipping lemonade. Knowing that I was wearing a rather intimate foundation garment in her company rendered me into a state between extreme excitement and embarrassment. I managed to escape from the girdle later on and returned it to her bedroom."

The Consequences:

Rather than being offended by such letters, which really are little more than harmless adolescent 'voyeurism', the information they contain is important. I selected these letters as examples where dates and ages are quoted. Specifically, a 51 year-old women binned her girdles in 1965 and a 56-year-old in 1967. A change to the traditional foundation garment was afoot as is described elsewhere in this site. However, these clandestine, but harmless activities can stray perilously close to furious misunderstanding at best to outright illegality at worst. I have quoted some examples below:-

In America in the 1950's, any such behaviour brought to the attention of the authorities could result in some unpleasant experiences in a psychiatric institution. There is a well documented case of a teenage boy who had transgressed the moral code of the day who was shown a series of slides. Accompanying any slide that showed a girdle (for that was his addiction) was a powerful electric shock. Whether this successfully subdued his passion is not recorded.

A gentleman wrote to us and claimed that in his adolescence he had frequently worn his mother's girdles, those of a neighbour, two aunts and latterly the corsets of his landlady. He never removed any articles, for in his personal moral code, theft was wrong. That he had abrogated the trust of these woman he was well aware but was was prepared to accept this as a lesser crime. In fact, the secret knowledge that he had worn something intimate from a lady who he knew well added to his excitement. In such a case, where does obsession end and perversion begin? Within the family circle, this adolescent curiosity can remain within the family, however, and using the above as an example, moving outside the family circle by wearing the neighbour's and landlady's foundations could well be seriously misunderstood. Should the discovery of such clandestine activities reach a court of law, then I feel that the verdict would be less than accommodating.

On a similar vein was the teenage boy whose mother discovered his veritable hoard of girdles. His mother was furious and screamed at her son for stealing these intimate belongings until he patiently explained that his collection was the consequence of numerous visits to charity (thrift) shops. The balloon of her anger was pierced and she apologised. To his amazement she simply warned him not to make purchases within the neighbourhood where he might be recognised and, he cleverly realised, the shame might reflect back onto his mother. It was the fear of breaking the law, of shame and her potential humiliation that had upset her. She was quite unconcerned about the consequences to her son either legally or emotionally.

We are always on the look-out for recollections of this bygone era. Obviously, the recollections of a corsetiere are as confidential as those of a doctor, however, from time to time, completely anonymous references can be made to episodes from the past. I received today one of the rare confidences from a Spirella corsetiere that I can relate without embarrassment towards the parties concerned. Jobs and locations have been changed, however, the descriptions are otherwise taken from the letter. As an introduction, I will mention a letter from a lady Mayoress who wrote to extol the virtues of her foundations in carrying out the rigours of her office, but a Mayor? Well, that is a different matter. This episode occurred in the late 1960's in a provincial British town where the Mayor was a well-known gentleman with a reputation as a 'ladies' man'. His wife was a client of the fitter who passed on this story to me. 

The Spectrum

There must be a spectrum on which, at one end, a man finds a well-dressed woman attractive; possibly he finds her clothes attractive and, if the woman is his wife, he may helpfully suggest what he likes her to wear. This can be manifest in 'titillating lingerie' for example; it might be that satin material is involved. Underwear manufacturers are well aware of the power of satin whilst officially declaring that it allows clothes to move smoothly over what lies beneath. This morphs gently into a state where the man starts to prefer the clothes to the lady herself, the consequences of which have been described above. The man may now desire to try on women's clothes or underwear to 'see what it feels like'. There may be several underlying reasons: he may want to enjoy a 'forbidden fruit', perhaps the tactile stimulation of satin or the confinement of feminine apparel drives him as we have seen, or perhaps he achieves a secret thrill from wearing the personal garments of a woman. It is not necessarily the woman that he finds attractive but her garments and the clandestine wearing of them. Ultimately, the woman plays no part and the wearing of feminine garments becomes the object of his desire. At the far end of the spectrum, possibly even on another branch lies the desire to become a woman, to live and dress as a woman. I say another branch because many 'cross-dressers' are strongly heterosexual and have not the slightest desire to change sex, their pleasure is derived from their secret activity and the last thing they would want would be to display themselves in public.

This leads me on to the dilemma of the modern cross-dresser. In the 'good old days', foundation garments, satin, all enveloping dresses were commonly worn by 1960s woman and these items acted as a huge stimulation to those on the spectrum, but what about today? Your average woman dresses much like a man; is there any stimulation here? The satin is gone, the foundation garments are feeble, there is no confinement. The remaining desire might simply be to wear a woman's clothes in secret. One could say that cross-dressers never had it so good in the 60s and 70s, but cross-dressing goes back thousands of years. Perhaps one should say that cross-dressers have never had it so bad.

The Ladies' Man

"The Mayor's wife, a lady in her 50's, had been a regular client of mine for over two decades and every six months ordered new 'lowers' (Spirella 315's - the back lacing corset) and four matching 'uppers'. The lady was pleasant, well-mannered but unexceptional. The regular order was typical of many middle-aged, middle-class clients of that period. I often felt some sympathy for the woman since she seemed to lack the sparkle that somebody in her social position would be expected to have. The sparkle and charisma belonged to her famous, even notorious husband. 

It was in 1967 that I visited the lady at her home to fit her for another order. Unusually, she asked for the most expensive material, and requested a duplicate set in black orchid. There was also a determination in the lady that had been absent for years. She seemed to pluck up courage and asked if she could order a corset for a friend. Referrals such as this were common and most welcome, however, she indicated that the friend was unavailable, and could I order the corset from measurements supplied. I had done this in the past making sure that the customer realised that there would be no 'come back' in the event of a poor fit. She supplied the measurements and, as any corsetiere with experience could tell instantly, they were obviously male measurements!  

How often have corsetieres received measurements from a man purporting to be for his Mother. Men and women are quite different shapes. Men have virtually no hip spring and there are many other detail 'giveaways'. What to do? The lady was a valued client and had recommended me to many of her friends. While I was pondering this dilemma, she asked for the corset to made in a material as close to pink satin as the Spirella brochure would allow. Nowadays, of course, only white and flesh tones exist, but back then, a fabulous pink satin was available (I have a Spen-all in a similar material and it is truly superb - IL). 

The lady's corsets and the 'one off' pink corset were duly furnished within the month and the episode might have passed out of my mind had I not met the Mayor and his wife some months later at a charity dinner.  Amazingly, it seemed that the energy of the couple had been transferred from the Mayor to his wife. She was radiant and he seemed ill-at-ease and generally uncomfortable. I suddenly realised the truth! Whether the Mayor had a penchant for wearing lady's underwear, I doubt. Perhaps his long-suffering wife had found out a little too much about her husband's extra-marital 'Mayorial duties' and had decided to take her revenge. Not only can a good corsetiere tell male measurements from female measurements, but she can also tell when a man or a woman is wearing a corset. 

I've discussed this episode with my husband on several occasions, and he has proposed the alternative theory that the Mayor, despite his all too obvious virility, was one of those men who actually enjoyed wearing women's underwear. This facet of his nature had been better disguised than his extra-marital affairs, however, his wife had discovered the secret and had exacted  a subtle two-fold revenge.