Atomic Titties
*REMINDER FOR LOS ANGELES STARF⭐️CKERS: My archive sale (round 2!) preview is this Thursday May 22 with an in person Q &A with Chelsea and Lauren from Every Outfit pod at 6:30 pm. Shopping open from 7-9 pm. RSVP REQUIRED HERE**
Non LA based STARF⭐️CKERS, don’t you fret! We are putting 40 cherry picked pieces online this Thursday May 22nd at 7 am PST via this link »»»
Not to brag, but I have one of the best lingerie collections. I’m kind of known for it. This photo below is just a quarter of the section devoted to “floor length nightgowns, 1930s-2020s” in my personal archive.
Lingerie is perhaps the most important element of my wardrobe, the foundation, if you will, of my life philosophy: To unlock true happiness and confidence, you’ve got to feel good about what’s underneath.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than arranging my drawers of silk, lace, feather and ribbon underpinnings. If I am anxious or depressed, organizing my stockings and garters reminds me that life isn’t so bad after all.
I love to lounge about at home in silk nightgowns and playsuits. Whether I’m writing, getting ready to go out, or drinking matcha in the morning, it feels good to have a silky little number on, and a glamorous robe on hand for receiving a guest: friend, lover, FedEx.
I can’t pinpoint the moment when my lingerie obsession began; it's always been a part of me, an extension of body and brain. My mother tells me that I started stealing her French knickers and slips when I was 12 years old, and friends from boarding school remember me sleeping in 1930s silks. By 14, I was collecting 1950s bullet bras from flea markets and buying 1960s leopard print babydoll nighties on eBay. Not long ago I ran into a room-mate from boarding school who said she had vivid memories of me at 15 in red lips and vintage nightgowns. I’m glad she envisions me as this chic, as I was too busy getting high behind the library across the street from campus to remember.
In the late 90s when I was a muse for downtown NYC deconstructionist designer/ artist Susan Cianciolo, I brought a friend, Anne McNally, who was then a Fashion Editor at Vanity Fair and the epitome of French chic, to her Canal Street Studio for a fitting. As Anne changed out of her Prada dress to try on RUN COLLECTION garments, both our jaws dropped as we saw Anne’s matching set of fuchsia pink lace bra and panties (french, of course.) I must have been 19 and noted her undergarments as the ideal to aspire to. After this I never wore mis-matched lingerie except once, immediately post divorce, when I hooked up with a much younger man after my friends convinced me that he was already too intimidated and my matching French undergarments would send him over the edge. NEVER AGAIN. I broke out in hives the one time I went into a Victoria Secret and cannot abide Spanx, I’d rather have cellulite. This is also why I prefer being behind the camera, less pressure on projecting perfection.
In my upcoming archive sale, there will be a few Chantal Thomass (one of my fave French lingerie designers,) pieces for sale. I’m wearing her stockings in the below photo at a Knicks game. I cried when Chantal closed her namesake shop on Rue st. Honoré, where more than once I dropped four figures € in less than 10 minutes, (!) yet I will debate for weeks or months about spending the same on clothing or accessories.
None of these intimate items I so lovingly collect and cherish have been purchased with the intention of pleasing a man. My lingerie is for my own enjoyment, fulfillment, and desire. When I go to bed in a delicious satin confection, I sleep (and dream) with delight. Upon rising, no matter the side of bed or mood I wake up in, I calmly smile at my reflection in the mirror; the jewel tone of my Marjolaine silk and lace slip warming the tone of my complexion and the bias cut of the gown framing and enhancing curves like liquid. Nightgowns help me to look past my dark circles and feel a bit like Jean Harlow in Dinner at Eight. Not to mention the instant lift in sprits helping to start the day properly.
When I dress, it's the undergarments that define my attire. There’s nothing like knowing you’ve got fancy knickers underneath your pencil skirt in a business meeting, giving that extra edge of mystique and power. Sexuality is an asset whether we choose to embrace or deny it. Early in my career, I had way too many meetings with men staring at my breasts across a conference table. So I flipped the script and wore buttoned up “conservative” power clothing with seriously chic lingerie underneath they couldn’t see. It is empowering to know you have on a pink Fifi Chachnil push up bra with marabou feather pom-poms nestled between your cleavage.
can attest to having seen this set in person. There’s more going on, both down under, and up in my cerebral cortex, than a frivolous pair of panties, I should add. As the famed burlesque stripper Gypsy Rose Lee once said in her song Psychology of a Striptease, “ …when I raise my skirts with dexterity, I’m thinking of how much to give to charity.”
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Will always be forever grateful (and my bank account a lil hateful) for your Fifi Chachnil rec back in like 2019, it still wrecks my budget but literally hits better than Molly so 🤷♀️