Wednesday August 5, 2009 at 10:47 am
Out of style
During my first year of college, I befriended an incredible group of girls who were all a few years older than I was, and moved into their apartment. I also bought a corset. Because I’m peculiar.
Listen, I had no desire to try to make myself any thinner. It was around that time that I began falling headfirst into my obsession with certain time periods, and although I could probably stand around on the set of The Tudors and bark about historical details with the costume designer, I could not, for the life of me, tell you whether or not leggings are still in style. Are they? Do these muddy Nikes go with these lace tights? Because that’s what I wore on my date last night.
That was also the year that The Phantom of the Opera was in theaters, and Emmy Rossum’s waistline sashayed in and scared me half to death. You think Texas Chainsaw Massacre was frightening?
Even so, I was fascinated by them, and began writing a research paper for one of my classes about their history. And with all of that studying and searching, I convinced myself that I couldn’t get away with finishing the project unless I tried wearing one myself.
However, the thing about corsets is, if you want to wear one correctly, you need a professional corset-putter-onner. And so I beckoned for my lady-in-waiting to fetch my Mistress of the Robes so that I may be dressed, and my roommate gave me a dirty look and told me to effing quit it, psycho, it’s 2:00 in the morning, why are you topless, get the hell away from my bed.
But the next day, as I stood gripping the top of my dresser, and she ran the laces through the metal eyelets in the back, I braced myself for the suffocating. Which didn’t happen. Because every time she yanked backwards, she pulled me with her, so that she had to keep letting go of the strings to stop my half-naked self from thrusting into her, pausing each time to consider how, exactly, she ended up living with a prude masochist.
I didn’t give up, and when I went home for Christmas break, I brought the thing with me and asked my mom to try helping me into it. Because who better to inflict the optimal amount of pain on a girl than her mother? And so I stood against a door frame, having the wind pulled out of my insides, suddenly understanding the hidden metaphors of that scene in Titanic when Rose’s mother is forcing her daughter to submit via lingerie.
I lasted about fifteen minutes. I even thought it would be a good idea to attempt driving, except, do you know what those things do to your spine? I was so upright that my neck was convinced it couldn’t move independently from the rest of my body. I was like one of those little tools you use to draw perfect circles. My arms were really the only things that would work freely, and they did, as I flailed for someone to help me out of the car, I can’t move! AND IF I FALL ASLEEP YOU’LL JUST THINK IT’S A MANNEQUIN HELP!
And so, here is where I say, wow, ladies of the past. You and Keira Knightley have some balls.
During my first year of college, I befriended an incredible group of girls who were all a few years older than I was, and moved into their apartment. I also bought a corset. Because I’m peculiar.
Listen, I had no desire to try to make myself any thinner. It was around that time that I began falling headfirst into my obsession with certain time periods, and although I could probably stand around on the set of The Tudors and bark about historical details with the costume designer, I could not, for the life of me, tell you whether or not leggings are still in style. Are they? Do these muddy Nikes go with these lace tights? Because that’s what I wore on my date last night.
That was also the year that The Phantom of the Opera was in theaters, and Emmy Rossum’s waistline sashayed in and scared me half to death. You think Texas Chainsaw Massacre was frightening?
Even so, I was fascinated by them, and began writing a research paper for one of my classes about their history. And with all of that studying and searching, I convinced myself that I couldn’t get away with finishing the project unless I tried wearing one myself.
However, the thing about corsets is, if you want to wear one correctly, you need a professional corset-putter-onner. And so I beckoned for my lady-in-waiting to fetch my Mistress of the Robes so that I may be dressed, and my roommate gave me a dirty look and told me to effing quit it, psycho, it’s 2:00 in the morning, why are you topless, get the hell away from my bed.
But the next day, as I stood gripping the top of my dresser, and she ran the laces through the metal eyelets in the back, I braced myself for the suffocating. Which didn’t happen. Because every time she yanked backwards, she pulled me with her, so that she had to keep letting go of the strings to stop my half-naked self from thrusting into her, pausing each time to consider how, exactly, she ended up living with a prude masochist.
I didn’t give up, and when I went home for Christmas break, I brought the thing with me and asked my mom to try helping me into it. Because who better to inflict the optimal amount of pain on a girl than her mother? And so I stood against a door frame, having the wind pulled out of my insides, suddenly understanding the hidden metaphors of that scene in Titanic when Rose’s mother is forcing her daughter to submit via lingerie.
I lasted about fifteen minutes. I even thought it would be a good idea to attempt driving, except, do you know what those things do to your spine? I was so upright that my neck was convinced it couldn’t move independently from the rest of my body. I was like one of those little tools you use to draw perfect circles. My arms were really the only things that would work freely, and they did, as I flailed for someone to help me out of the car, I can’t move! AND IF I FALL ASLEEP YOU’LL JUST THINK IT’S A MANNEQUIN HELP!
And so, here is where I say, wow, ladies of the past. You and Keira Knightley have some balls.
But I would totally wear one if it meant having Johnny Depp jumped underwater, save me, and then cut it off….sigh. I say this, but really, if even my underwear is too tight, I lose it. :)
I’d lose it too, especially for Johnny Depp.
Ok I have to chime in on this one. (Yeah, I’m a lurker. Sorry)
As I’m sure you’re aware, there are a bunch of different styles of corsets and they each have a different fit. And having it properly fitted and properly laced makes a HUGE difference in comfort.
I actually have two preferred lacers (I work for a renaissance faire) and if one of them isn’t available I know it’s going to be a long day. But if my corset is fitting properly I’m usually more comfortable in it than I am in a regular bra.
Yes, I’m aware that I sound crazy. :) I do have to agree with you wholeheartedly on one point. It doesn’t matter how it fits or how it laces…it’s never easy or comfortable to drive a car in one of those things.
I went through a fascination with corsets at about age 12, but I never acquired one. So kudos to you!
However, corsets, hello-sailor heels and childbirth (a la dooce, holy cow have you read the rest of her birth story? the woman’s got BALLS) are proof that women are stronger, braver, more resistant to pain, and sometimes stupider than men.
I wore a dress from the 1950’s that my Nana made AFTER having 3 of her 4 children to a wedding in June. It has a built in girdle! A belt on the inside that clasps at the waist and sucks you into an hour glass shape! I couldn’t zip it up without using the belt. I also wore some sturdy Spanx to trim things up and smooth them out, and I consider myself to be fairly thin. Sweet Jesus. My abs hurt for the next 2 days from clenching them all day in order to avoid busting out of the dress, even with the support from the girdle and Spanx. I’m not brave enough to be Victorian.
Keira Knightley has balls? But…all the posters…the pictures…the dreams…I feel so dirty.
You should have gone to Hot Topic or something…I think they have like…training corsets there.
Phantom of the Opera!!! All these years later, I’m still obsessed. For me, it was Gerard Butler’s Phantom who took my breath away. I was way past college then, but that movie took my right back to that feeling I remember from being sixteen, that melancholic swooning soul-dredging passion that it was just magical to feel again. (Better the second time around, actually, because I could enter the emotion and not fear being undone by it.) Music of the Night. Past the Point of No Return. That moment when Christine/Emmy is leaving and Phantom sings with such pain, “Christine, I love you.” As I said, obsessed. Thanks for the fabulous post.
That’s why you need one of those huge four-poster beds so you can grab onto a bedpost like Scarlett O’Hara. 18-inch waist ahoy! ;-)
I have a couple 40s style dresses that require a serious foundation garment. Well, I could probably forgo them, but I’m a stickler for details. So I have one of these http://www.mybabyjo.com/under/corselette_lg.jpg
It’s pretty serious business, but it is indeed smoothing.
I give you props for trying one on, that must’ve been PAINFUL! I think they look beautiful, altho I’ve never tried one on myself.
Thanks for checking out my blog!
Great post! Amen to the ladies before us who went through all that pain. I wore won at the Renaissance Festival this past year and all I could think about was getting home to take it off. Ouch!
The feminist side of me has so much to say about corsets and their role in limiting women’s movement and their range of activities as symbol of restricting women’s roles in the world. But the dang what I wouldn’t give for an 18-inch waist side of me says, “Where can I buy one of those things?”
Ya, there ain’t no way. As much as I despise my flab sometimes, there ain’t no way I’m tightening up some corset around it.
Also, random story. I was getting ready for my Gap party today, so I went to Papermart and decided to get some soda water at the beer distributor next door. I was making small talk about it with the cashier and it turns out that’s your boyfriend! He says, “My girlfriend blogs at thatnight.net and I’m like, “I’ve heard of that before! Rachel?” He said yes. Such a small world, huh? Anyway, sorry to put all this nonsense out there on your blog, but I was so excited to tell you. So I did. The end.
I tend to run more towards the Frederick’s corsets — not the cheap decorative ones, the hardcore, properly boned and laced ones (though they’re still pretty). You do get used to them after awhile.
By the way, wear one, then put a tight button up shirt over it. That’s the best.
As I understand it, the modern-day corsets for some women are blue and made by Levi’s. Probably give a lesser, yet similar feeling!
This is probably NOT what you were going for, but now I kind of want to try it…
Hilarious post!
I’ve always wanted a corset but I bet you something big doesn’t even have to happen for me to faint. I bet you that after my lacer tugs it through the first metal eyelet, I’d faint and will need my smelling salts.
Slightly off-topic: I loooove Phantom of the Opera. When I was in Vegas recently I went to see it and it was *amazing* – with a crashing chandelier to boot! If you ever go to Vegas, make sure you see it.
I have always wondered one thing about corsets though! … Why do they have to be so tight? I mean, can’t you wear them a bit less bone crushing, or would that defeat the purpose? (You can probably tell I’ve never tried one on. :P)
Ouch, that’s how I felt in my prom dress.
I’ve wondered about corsets myself after watching Titanic!! I can’t imagine how uncomfortable that was!
My friend said she actually really liked wearing a corset, and she hates all things girly.
Maybe the years of ballet make her appreciate the posture aide.
You are a brave, brave woman!
I acquired a corset to wear under a dress to something fancy (right now I can’t remember if it was a prom, or someone’s wedding, or something. I just knew that I originally got it to wear under something fancy…). Yeah… I must have been on crack. I was already skinny at the time, and I actually bruised my ribs wearing a corset with metal stays. Dear lord did it hurt!!
Like a goof, I wore it again… in college… for halloween… UNDER something else… AGAIN… and bruised my ribs. The great irony now is that I could actually benefit from wearing something that opressive under fanciness today, but I haven’t a clue what I did with that death trap…
Makes one wonder why we wear heels and control top this, and cleavage building that…
Victorian women used to develop nerve ending problems in their hands and forearms from wearing tight gloves that overstimulated their senses and skin…
Why do we put ourselves through this?
Thoe things are murder but sexy as all get out.
wow! you even lasted 15 minutes wearing it! you’re tough to go through that – I would have felt suffocated from the get go!