The perils of buying sexy lingerie

Kate Langbroek was buying sexy undies for her 'friend' she swears. Source: Sunday Style

ALTHOUGH I am a grown-up on the outside, I am a child within.

You know that age at which quite normal things embarrass you? I think it's about 13; when if your schoolbag spills open and other people see the blackening banana in your lunch box, you're mortified. Or if the boy you like somehow finds out you like him, you flush with shame. Or when your beautiful mum, returning from her job, waves heartily from her carriage as the train pulls into the station where you are standing on the platform with your equally awkward and self-conscious friends, you pretend not to see her.

Well, this may sound under-baked, but I still get embarrassed buying feminine hygiene products at the supermarket. Or getting undressed in the communal change room at the swimming pool.

So, the other week, when I found myself in a lingerie shop with my girl Georgie, I was thrilled. Not so much by the contents of the shop, which were strangely meagre, but by my friend's matter-of-fact audacity. Not much at all embarrasses her. Which makes her the perfect companion for an outing to a slightly kinky underwear shop.

Buying underwear is one of the most embarrassing things you can do. Source: ThinkStock

We were in Adelaide for its brilliant Fringe Festival, and it was 42 degrees, and we were dizzy with heat exhaustion and lack of sleep when we stumbled across the strange little store. It certainly wasn't your normal Bras N Things, yet there it was, with its bondage-esque finery in the window, right next to that well-mannered matron, Myer.

So we entered, and after a bit of 'hello, vicar!'-style giggling, Georgie found a bra she liked; a complicated pleather arrangement with lots of straps and buckles, so she disappeared into the change room to try it on, while I was left with the sales assistants.

As I said, it was a tiny store, so I all-too-quickly browsed what there was, and then found myself in what, if it were a Bunnings, would be the ELECTRONICS section, which I found mortifying, so I quickly scuttled back to the undies, and all the while, the sales girls were making small talk.

And occasionally the brunette would duck into the change room to help Georgie with a buckle on her bungee-jumping-harness-style bra, but the rest of the time I was outside with her colleague; a heavily made-up blonde who kept calling me "babe", and started going into GRAPHIC detail about a fella she was dating, and how she would use a particular (ahem) apparatus with him, and I really couldn't bear it, so I sought refuge by looking for the 10th time at these racy undies hanging in front of me, and then I found myself thinking: 'Why not?'

But I was too embarrassed to tell "babe", so I casually plucked my size from the shelf and took them to Georgie, who was still wrestling with the thousand-strap bra, and whispered that I wanted the knickers, but she had to pretend they weren't for me, and she understood my prudish weirdness and hung them on the hook in her change room.

It doesn't matter what age you are, embarrassment sneaks up on everyone. Source: News Limited

But then, things went awry. Georgie wanted to try another bra, so Babe went in to help her, and then I heard her pause and say: "Babe. These are totally NOT your size. You're not a LARGE! I'll get you your size," and I froze, and I heard Georgie say, "Oh. They're not for me…"

And then she uttered the phrase that's been used since time immemorial for the purchase of anything illicit, "THEY'RE FOR A FRIEND."

Which was so stupid, 'cause I am clearly a size large, and was hovering right outside the change room. In a lingerie shop. Where people go to buy lingerie.

Anyway, at the checkout I said to Georgie, "I'll pay for OUR FRIEND'S undies", and then Babe said: "Tell her she needs to use some [REDACTED] with them, because they might [REDACTED]."

And just the thought that the knickers came with instructions made my face flame.

But Georgie said: "Don't worry, I'll tell her." And looked at me and smirked.

And then Babe resumed her anecdote about blindfolding her boyfriend, and how he snuck a look, and saw what she was doing to him with some egg-shaped contraption, and it was so horrendous, I grimaced with relief when Georgie's bra was wrapped and handed to her. And then Babe handed me the other bag, and said:

"Enjoy, babe."

Enjoy? I don't think so.

I mean, they're not even for me. They're for my friend.

That shameless slapper. I'm almost embarrassed for her.

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The Museum at FIT presents "Exposed: A History of Lingerie," an exhibit with pieces ranging from a 1770's corset to contemporary high-end lingerie.

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