Give 'em the slip

As passionate as I am about the exterior look of clothing, I'm currently all about what lies beneath.

There's a passage in the book EAT, PRAY, LOVE (which if you haven't read yet, if you don't do any else this Saturday afternoon, get to a bookstore, buy a copy, and read immediately) when in Italy, after having had a discussion with her friend Luca Spaghetti about how "SEX" is Rome's "word of the city" (as it is what all Romans think about all of the time while walking, working, and well, making love) when Elizabeth Gilbert goes on a lingerie buying spree. She is searching for her own "word" and is led into a little boutique off of the Via Condotti where she spends several hours under the tutelage of a sales associate and buys "enough lingerie to keep a sultan's consort outfitted for 1,001 nights." She continues, "I bought bras of every shape and formation. I bought filmy, flimsy camisoles, and sassy bits of panty in every color of the Easter basket, and slips that came in creamy satins and hush-now-baby silks, and handmade little bits of strings and things, and bascially just one velvety, lacy, crazy valentine after another." "Per chi?" (Why?) She did not know yet.

When I was little, one of my chores was to iron fresh laundry. My mom started me off on simple things like sheets or my dad's hankies - anything flat, and square - but I graduated to other more difficult items like pleated uniform skirts, blouses, and eventually even slips. I never understood slips. I hated to iron them, and never wanted to wear them. I mean, I already had underwear on, why on earth did I need another layer of clothing between my sensible cotton underpants and training bra, and my outer clothes?

My mom had drawers of them made out of silk and satin and cotton voile. Adjustable straps of ribbon-like material, with lacy insets and pin-tuck stitched detailing at the chest. Tiny little bows and rosette accents. The material was slippery so no matter how neatly I folded them, one touch to move them and they'd fall undone. Looking back, I realize that their undone-ness was part of their genetic makeup. A slip is meant to be removed (by oneself, or by another) and allowed to float gently to the floor, and left in a satiny mess. Straps are meant to slide off shoulders and hems are meant to peek out playfully and invitingly. A slip is practical in that the extra layer it provides between your skin and your clothes can either provide warmth, or keep you cool, and protects your clothes prolonging their life. The right-brain character of the slip though is that it is sensual - the silky, soft, delicate fabrics hug your body boosting your libido and confidence. I swear they'll even change how you walk - put on a slip and suddenly your hips find a rhythm they never knew they had.

There's a lingerie & slip revival of sorts happening right now (in America, at least...lingerie is de rigeur in other parts of the world). Look through magazines and catalogs and you'll see them everywhere. Tip: believe it or not, Urban Outfitters lingerie category carries a good selection - black, cream, pink, baby blue; satin, silk, cotton; lace-trimmed, spaghetti-strapped, empire-waist and a-line ... it's a good place to get started. I challenge you to buy one. Just one. And wear it. And then I challenge you to not buy dozens more.