Everything these days is about matching. Matching your lipstick to your nipple colour, matching pyjamas, matching on Bumble. So why are we neglecting to afford this same privilege to our underwear?
On the rare occasion when we decide to adhere to our now almost forgotten promises of New Year’s resolutions, we haul our tired (but admittedly slightly more toned) asses to the gym.
With the petrifying combination of marathon training frenzy and bikini season on the not too distant horizon, the changing rooms are rammed.
It is here, in this curious gym no-mans-land, that there has formed a fertile breeding ground for the underwear spotter. An undi-ornathologist, if you will.
Underwear ornithology is a practice that we all have indulged in as we spot a beautiful bra and pair of pants adorning our fellow gym-birds.
Feeling conscious of our own underwear situation we take a quick glance down. Our eyes skim appreciatively over the carefully picked lacy bra that we have spent what seems like half of our rent on. Thank God, we think to ourselves… haven’t completely shown ourselves up this time. Then, as our eyes move down, suddenly a look of surprise crosses our countenance. We discover that bits of fluff are visible, even in the dim light, clinging to the frayed elastic edges of our days-of-the-week pants. And they aren’t even the correct bloody day.
Our lower half is shod in the uniform of a pauper, living a dejected life of poverty, surrounded by thick gussets, stringy elastic and cotton bobbles. Our boobs, however, court a royal existence, as they lie resplendent in the regal robes of supple silk or delicate lace hammocks.
We shouldn’t let our butts and boobs live in such disparate states of dress. We need some more equality in our method of clothing both the nether and northern regions of our body. In short, we should stop our bras from doing all the heavy lifting, and start SET-ting a new standard for our lingerie.
So how will we heal this gulf, I hear you cry?
We have all been in the position when we have treated ourselves to a lovely new piece of underwear, and it feels great. We have spent the best part of a working day trawling through websites to find something to make you feel sexy. After having sent various options to our flatmates, best mates, co-workers or PAs to quadruple check that what we are about to purchase has the seal of approval. Once thoroughly stamped and sealed, we head to the checkout bag to pay for our beautiful new matching set.
Cue financial freak-out.
It is at this point that we enter an emotional/ monetary tug of war. Can we really rationalise spending fifty quid on a bra, and a further twenty-five on some matching knickers? And all for the sake of aesthetics?
More often than not the answer is no, and it’s the poor old pants that are dropped from our checkout-bag faster than Britney ditched K-Fed.
But fear not, for Hattie and Minna are committed to making your booty’s as fruity as your boobies. Their pants have been priced so they won’t put your bank account into arrears, but sexy back into your rears.
Illustration: Rachel Campbell @the_illustratice