Monday, July 24, 2006

I rescind my thank you to Oprah...

Remember my thank you to Oprah the other day for all of the business her bra show sent to my small boutique?

I take it back.


It's hard to thank someone when she is single-handedly responsible for bringing the entire city's population of card carrying short bus riders into your store.


It all started with the onion soup lady. Honest to Christ, she smelled like onion soup mix. And wanted me to fit her for a bra with her shirt off.

Oh. My. God.

When I asked her what size bra she was wearing, she couldn't tell me because she wasn't sure. I soon saw why.

The "sports bra" (And I use the quotes loosely) she was wearing was see-through thin. And worn to shit. It was so stretched, her boobs were hanging somewhere near or on her waist band.

While trying to simultaneously not laugh and/or gag, I covered her circumference with my measuring tape and quickly got the numbers I needed.

I put her in a couple of bras that matched the measurements I took and tried and tried to get her in one that would be suitable. In the end, I didn't have a bra in the store to fit her properly.

The rest of my day was pretty similar to the onion soup lady. Unfortunately, the day soon came to a close and I got, I mean, had to go home.

It's a shame really.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Thank you Oprah!

Recently, as some of you may know, Oprah had an episode where she told women all around the world that they were wearing the wrong size bras.

This was the third or fourth time that this particular episode had aired, but that didn't stop the swarms of crazy women from coming into my store to harrass me for fittings and proper bras.

It all started last Monday. The day of the episode's airing.

Sweet Jesus, they all came in droves. One by one. Two by two. I was flat out for about 3 hours.

Don't get me wrong, Oprah drummed up a lot of business for our store that day, but at a costly price.

The first came at around 10:30 am. The offender in question was a stout woman, of about 5'2. She came in for a fitting and I obliged.

I have a couple of opening questions that I ask to ensure that I will be able to properly fit for a bra.

I ask what size bra she thinks she is, if she's wearing a padded bra, what size bra she's wearing, at the moment, and what style of bra she's looking for.

This woman claimed to "not really" know what size bra she needed, but that she thought it was around a 36 B, that she was not wearing a padded bra, that she was wearing a 34 C, and that she wanted something to push her up and in.

Fair Enough.

Good Start.

Bra measurements are determined by the following:

1) Measure yourself around the underside of the bust, more precisely, around your ribcage. If your measurement is an even number, (ie: 30) add 4 inches. (Thus giving you a measurement of 34. If you measure an odd number, (ie: 31) add 5 inches. (Thus giving you a measurement of 36.

2) Measure yourself around the fullest part of your bust. More precisely, around your back and across the nipple while holding your arms at your sides. The bra size is determined by figuring out the difference between the band and cup sizes. A difference of 1 inch means you are an A, 2 inches means B, 3 inches means C, and so on.

Now that we've got the fitting lesson over, read on.

I whip out the measuring tape and prepare to measure.

The woman proceeds to look around with darty eyes, shifty glances, and awkward arm motions. I wasn't sure if she was looking to take flight, or simply give me more room to work.

All in all it takes about 30 seconds to fit someone.

Once I had the measuring tape around her considerable girth, I determined that she was not a 34 or a 36 as she thought. She measured a 38 around which meant she was a 42 band. She also measured at a D cup, possibly a DD depending on the bra.

I told her my numbers, watched her look at me incredulously, nodded my head to show her it was right, and offered to grab a couple of bras to get her started.

She looked at me with pure hatred, assumed I was lying, was totally convinced (Self-Convinced at that) that she was sooo not a 42 D and told me that she didn't care what the tape said, that she was a 36 C at most.

I told her I couldn't make her buy the best fitting bra, that I was only there to assist in the fitting and shopping of said bra, and told her she was welcome to do as she pleased.

She promptly left.

It's only 11:00.