I need to talk to you guys about my knickers.
Actually, I’m not sure if they qualify as knickers, technically, because my underwear of choice is a g-string.
Scrap that… a “v-string”, according to the brand that used to make my favourite (very) smalls.
You see, I’ve worn the same style of undies for the past 15 years. 20, maybe.
It’s a very tiny g-string from Victoria Secret, and the particular style I love has been discontinued.
It looked like a g-string, only smaller, and, very importantly, the thin strips of elastic that qualified as the ‘sides’ of the undies attached to a small metal ring at the top of the butt crack (sorry) which made the one-size-fits-most style so appealing.
Why? Because that little metal ring meant that I could wear the elastic low on the hips, or high on the waist, depending on the important needs of my outfit, and I didn’t ever feel like I was giving myself an atomic wedgie. In fact, they were so damn comfortable it felt like wearing nothing at all.
There was never a panty line, no matter how curvy my hips got when my weight fluctuated. Because the last thing I need is my knickers shaming me and giving me a muffin top before I’ve even put my jeans on.
I first feared that the style had been discontinued a few years back when travelling to the States. When I asked a sales assistant to point me in the direction of my beloved bum floss she showed me a style that had a sewn ‘t-bar’ at the back. “No no,” I told her, explaining that while this might seem like a small change, it’s actually a fatal design flaw.
Super cute set, but waaaaay too thick down the crack for my liking.
Fast forward to now and I’ve never been able to find the style in stores, so I think it is safe to say it’s been laid to rest. As a result I’m still running the 20 odd I have left in rotation, all now sexy varying shads of grey thanks to hundreds of runs through a hot wash.
Some are from a few years back but others, I fear, are nearing their 10th birthday. Sure, that probably sounds gross because it is, but anyone who pretends like they don’t still wear a few pairs of panties circa when Rihanna’s first song came out is a liar.
I lamented the loss of my favourite underwear to girlfriends in search of recommendations but it turns out I’m the only one on the planet still wearing g-strings. Instead of sympathy they looked at me like I had a fetish for eating astroturf… and I ended up having to defend myself by explaining that no, I don’t wear a g-string to bed becase it’s best to wear nothing… and that even if I did, Bec Judd does, anyway, so there.