I dunno. I think I'm getting old.
I buy my bras at Lane Bryant. Have done so for a number of years now. They usually have good sales, products that last a long time, and are comfortable. There are a couple of basic styles I stick to and can usually get in and out of the store pretty quickly.
This spring I bought a dress that I liked a lot. (Mine is the taupe color, not the cerise, and I regret to say I paid full price for it. That should show you how much I liked the dress.) I like the feel of the dress, the color, the ease of caring for it, the whole nine yards. But the neckline is a bit lower than my other dresses and tops, and when I wore it, the edge of my bra would show. At least I could see it, looking down, and I presumed others could see it. I didn't want this to be the case.
So off I went to audition bras that might be concealed by the dress. When I got to the store, there were no other customers, and only one sales person. A guy. About twenty-two. I went over to the lingerie department and began a lengthy and systematic study of the bras, trying to imagine if one or another would do what I needed (I'd come to the mall on impulse and had not brought the dress along to try on with the possibles). And the guy came over and offered to help me. I declined. He followed me around, suggesting that if I didn't see my size in a particular style, he could look in the back. I was uncomfortable. I didn't like it. I said as little as possible, but he persisted in offering me help after help after help. Just before he reached the point of suggesting a matching panty, I said to him, "I wish you would leave me alone. I am uncomfortable discussing lingerie with a man."
He left me alone. But he was miffed. I hadn't wanted to say that. I would have thought that he would have picked up on my discomfort based on my lack of conversation. It was a bad experience. By the time I'd finally reached the conclusion that I'd found a bra that would stay hidden, a female employee had come in, and I felt a little better. But when I got to the register, Mr. Helpful was there, smirking.
Am I getting old? Am I stuffy? Who, me, stuffy? Prudish? My friends would laugh out loud at that thought. But tell me, female readers, would you be okay buying a bra from a guy?
PS: It did work, so I was spared the unpleasantness of having to return it and provide him with a reason!