Good Lingerie Is a Love Letter to You and Your Body

Lingerie isn’t about seduction anymore—it’s about owning beauty and pleasure on your own terms.

Whether you know it or not, your underwear speaks volumes about your self-image.

Hear me out: Your drawer probably holds a bunch of everyday items—the workhorse cotton briefs or the bra that keeps it all in place, but looks like a Valkyrie chest plate. The practicals serve the very necessary and functional purpose of covering and/or supporting your body so you can go about your business.

But that drawer can also feel a little sad—and accidental. How did I become so utilitarian? I have no nostalgia for the itchy nylon thongs my husband bought me in our 20s. Nor do I suffer the slightest pang remembering the Wonder Bras that made me sweat buckets. Those? I don’t miss one little bit. But at some point, I missed feeling indulged—and realized I’d stopped rewarding my body with beautiful, pleasurable lingerie because I was punishing it for what felt like betrayal to me.

Your Changing Body Still Deserves Love

Nobody told me how much my body would change in midlife. Sometimes it feels like it occurred gradually. Sometimes it’s more like waking up and thinking, “What the hell happened here?” like you would upon seeing a kitchen that’s been invaded by raccoons. I’ve had 21 years to get used to the after-effects of pregnancy, but far fewer to come to terms with the seismic body changes of perimenopause. It’s challenging to practice radical body acceptance, loving my outside without judgment, when my bra size has changed three times in two years. But radical acceptance is just that: radical and revolutionary. So I eventually chose to join that revolution by putting my hormone-raddled, valiant body in really good lingerie.

“Really good” means it fits well (right size, flattering cut or shape), feels pleasurable (quality fabric and construction, no seams or wires digging in), and makes me check myself out without wincing (if I pause to look twice and maybe even smile, it’s really, really good).

Emily Diehl, the lingerie fit specialist at A La Mode Intimates in Baltimore, stressed that the discomfort often associated with lingerie comes from poor fit. Sometimes this is due to inferior “fast fashion,” which relies on cheap materials and slapdash construction. But sometimes it’s also not knowing the right sizing. A proper fitting with a salesperson who knows which brands are narrower, more forgiving, and fragile can be invaluable.

Lingerie Is Finally for Us 

It’s easy to view lingerie as a young woman’s game, a time when bodies aren’t as reliant on clever engineering to hold everything up and in. But we don’t know our physical selves, or our preferences, nearly as well at that point in our lives. Moreover, in our youth, we’re much likelier to accept someone else’s vision of us via gifted lingerie that reflects their fantasy of who we are (or who we could pretend to be): crotchless-pantied harlot, sheer babydoll-wearing innocent, naughty nurse/police officer/lion tamer.

Screw that.

First, lingerie from someone else is very seldom the good stuff. Instead, it’s what they find hot without consideration for how it feels. Good lingerie is a caress for your body, a sensual touch of silk or buttery-soft cotton you get to enjoy all day long. Second, someone buying for you, not with you, may have the best intentions. But they still lack the most vital element: your unique body. You know better than anyone what looks and feels good.

Indulging yourself, rather than waiting for someone else to do so, is important. We toss the idea of “self-care” around a lot, but rewarding your hard-working body with beautiful, pleasurable underthings is peak self-care. It’s saying, “Hey, body, I appreciate everything you do. I’m going to show you how much I think of you by making you feel and look fantastic.”

For me, it’s also a way of celebrating my ability to decide where my money goes, and I choose to direct some of that to lingerie because I get to enjoy it often. I also know that quality endures; cheap underwear falls apart after a couple of washes. Bras from big-box or fast-fashion stores often become unwearable way too fast. By contrast, the higher end items I’ve bought from labels like Simone Perele, Cosabella, Hanro, and the like (often on sale or on eBay) seldom show wear, even after years of regular use.

The Under-the-Radar Sexy Rebellion

Beyond the cost-per-wear, really nice underthings also create a gratifyingly powerful, sensual secret side of myself, which is particularly useful when I’m stuck in meetings or waiting on hold for insurance billing. A friend once described her colorful intimates as “a supersuit she wears underneath.”

The Queen of Burlesque (and lingerie entrepreneur) Dita Von Teese also shares my love of lingerie’s undercover agenda. “Lingerie lets you be whoever you want to be underneath your clothes,” she said. “You can be a conservative dresser and still wear a flash of neon pink lace.”

 

That little flash of lace is like a banner waving against the patriarchy. It says, “No, I’m not sexless, I’m not invisible, I’m not going gently into that good night.”

While our culture still tries to marginalize women, particularly after childbearing years, a pink neon bra strap demands recognition, acknowledgment that we refuse to fade away. “I’m here and I deserve to feel good,” that bra strap says. “I deserve to take up space.” You might still have to deal with manspread and mansplaining, but you can at least reject the idea that middle-aged women are only seen when it’s allowed or convenient.

Over 50 years ago, L’Oreal came out with the iconic slogan, “Because you’re worth it” for their hair color. Good lingerie is, admittedly, an indulgence, but it’s so much more than that. Buying and wearing the good stuff declares that not only are we worth it, but we don’t care whether anyone else agrees. It’s taking ownership of self-love, and standing our ground as women who are unapologetically sensual, powerful—and yes, hot as hell.