It's true that the coverage surrounding Secret Life of Syrian Lingerie: Intimacy and Design book has largely focused on this notion of lingerie as an expression of sexuality denied women in everyday life. The ability to - and more, to the point, desire to - buy racy underthings seems to the average Western reader like a sort of freedom, or at the very least a sense of self-expression or gratification. But, says MMW's Krista, this kind of thinking only serves to simplify the reality of the situation and, in some way, play into our notion of an exoticized temptress.

What could be a more titillating image than that of a Muslim women (presumably veiled, of course) picking out something sexy to wear when in her private harem home? It might as well be proof of the Orientalist fantasy of the seductive, exotic temptress that exists within every Muslim woman, if only we could unveil her. (*shudder*)

What's more, she adds, the "sexiness" is not for the women's sense of selves, but rather, mandated and cast in terms of pleasing their husbands.

it soon becomes clear from the article that Muslim women apparently "value sexy" only in a patriarchal and heteronormative context in which "sexy" really refers to whatever their husbands want. Mohammad Habash, the (male) head of the Damascus Centre for Islamic Studies says, "Islam orders the woman to keep herself pretty for her husband, that's well-known," implying that female sexuality equals "pretty," and that this "pretty" is only important insofar as the husband acknowledges it. One woman interviewed for the article reinforces this perspective, stating that "Muslim wives must be desirable and pleasure their husbands so they don't stray," and that it is essentially the wife's responsibility to mould herself into the object of her husband's desire. If he goes elsewhere, it is probably because she did not "value sexy" enough.

I think she makes a really strong point, especially in regard to Western coverage of the phenomenon - and I count myself guilty in oversimplifying the issue. However, I also think, at least in my case, this arises not from wanting to perpetuate an "Arabian Nights" fantasy, as much as hoping that women in other parts of the world can take pleasure in an self-expression that's not a normal part of their public lives. Basically, lingerie's fun; I'm glad other people can enjoy it, too.

In some ways, I think Krista strips the women of too much agency: while she's absolutely right to point out the problematic cultural imperatives at work, by her argument, these women are denied any of the freedom which we were probably too quick to assume. I mean, I find it hard to believe that every single one of the women shopping for the rococo underthings in the described bazaar does so joylessly, or doesn't feel remotely sexy doing so. There are a range of people, of marriages, of dynamics, at work, as in everything. Perhaps we should not assume these women are doing this for themselves; but we also shouldn't do them the disservice of assuming they're not, surely?

Sexy Things: Women Or Lingerie? [Muslimah Media Watch]
Related: Undercover
Sugar & Spice

Vanity sizing, as anyone who's ever attempted to shop at Banana Republic knows, is nothing new. And, says the Times, "these days, many women - to their shock or glee - are finding that DD is becoming the new C." What this means is unclear. Either sizing is different, or we actually have bigger breasts on average - due to weight gain or surgical enhancement - or the population is aging, or maybe we're all just fitting our bras properly, thanks to Oprah and Stacey.

The piece acknowledges that a lot of women aren't thrilled to find out they're bigger busted than they imagined, which soothed my ruffled feathers somewhat after the irritating assumptions of that headline. For a lot of us, bra size is a very fraught issue. In my case, I'm the daughter of someone absolutely flat-chested...which became the feminine ideal in my house. When my boobs grew in - generous for my frame - I felt blowsy and trashy, consigned by my mother to a series of granny bras and "size Large" shirts. I took after my grandmother, who confided to me, not particularly helpfully, that her heavy chest was one of the great sadnesses of her life - a life, oddly, not short on genuine tragedies. Breasts never equaled "sexiness" to me - quite the contrary. They spelled unwelcome looks, buckling blouse plackets, hunched shoulders, and an unchosen sexuality that I felt misrepresented the serious young woman I wanted to become. When friends talked about wishing for bigger cup sizes, I was genuinely baffled: each advance through the alphabet felt to me like some kind of shame. The weird part was, I thought other people's curvaceous figures were amazing; it was just on me that the breasts became a sort of horrid alien imposition.

I got over this, to a degree, as one does: good bras, growing up, moving out and healthy relationships all helped me realize that my family was stark raving mad and that I had other things to worry about. But I still wonder when I see assumptions like that behind the Times headline. A friend of mine called me just the other day, downcast, having just been told that she was several bra sizes larger than she'd believed; the revelation, while it objectively contained no judgment, still affected how she thought of herself in relation to the world. In our lifetimes, our breasts and bra sizes change as much as anything in our bodies, and as in all things a degree of mental flexibility is necessary, but it's important for bra merchants and designers to understand that it's a sensitive subject and a bigger deal than it might seem. A little standardization might be nice. Or, as one plastic surgeon in the article says, "I wish they would get their act together and get their sizes straight."

Your Bra Size: The Truth May (Pleasantly) Surprise You [NY Times]

Since strict segregation laws prohibit Saudi women from working in most public spaces- where they can deal with male strangers - women now, counterintuitively, have to buy intimates from male clerks. Says Breitbart, "The result is mortifying for everyone involved-shoppers, salesmen, even the male relatives who accompany the women." As a result, women say they feel furtuve and ashamed when lingerie shopping, and take measures like traveling to other, less restrictive countries where they can deal with female clerks. Part of the issue is that, in a country where women are required to veil themselves completely, racier lingerie is a popular mode of self-expression. Then too, fitting rooms are banned in Saudi Arabia - the undressing would be too close to men - so any purchase of said intimate apparel requires prolonged and in-depth discussion of fit with a salesperson.

As a result, there's a campaign afoot to boycott lingerie stores in an effort to force the government to employ female staffers, and to encourage patronage of the nation's few (windowless) female-run boutiques - a campaign male lingerie salesman apparently back unilaterally. So far, 1,700 people have signed a Facebook petition in support of the movement, and the official boycott was launched Tuesday. The organizers are pushing for the implementation of a never-imposed 2006 law that states that only female staff can be employed in women's apparel stores.

While we wholeheartedly endorse the campaign - lingerie shopping can be quite embarrassing enough with female clerks, thank you very much - it seems a shame that the only alternative is an equally restrictive policy that actually bans men legally from such work. In any event, such measures hardly seem necessary, given the evident embarrassment of the men who work in these stores. And if the boycott fails, we can't help thinking that there's a major internet market out there for someone who has a working knowledge of Arabic, lingerie, and the politics of brown-paper wrapping.

Saudi Women To Spurn Lingerie Shops Over Salesmen [Breitbart]

Remember in Working Girl when Alec Baldwin gives Tess sexy lingerie for her birthday and she says, "Mick, just once it would be nice to get something I could wear outside the house."

And apparently men are so crap at buying underwear for the dames in their lives that London's John Lewis store has set up a "lingerie academy" to prevent the purchase of Pussycat Dolls-esque monstrosities in random sizes. But seriously, is it really that hard? Apparently so!

According to the academy's mastermind, Maria Walker, men's problems fall into a few categories: buying for themselves rather than their recipients; cluelessness as to size; and generally being intimidated by the setup of the creepily-named "Intimates" departments and Victoria's Secret bordellos, and the fear of looking pervy. Then too, the mechanics of fit and hoist, or underwire and cuppage, are a language that's mysterious even to women.

So, in a panic, guys go with what they've been told is "sexy," almost never what we'd choose. Think red, black, thongs, and a lot of teddies. Says Walker,

I saw a programme recently called Britain's Worst Husband and these men were sent into a high street shop to buy lingerie and they all came back with red and black lace. Every one. We have some beautiful things in red and black, but you have to make sure of the quality and you have got to look at your partner's colouring. Someone with dark hair and olive skin would look wonderful in red but if you're blonde...

Rather than guessing at sizes (which I can tell you from my time in retail, men never know even if they think they do) the academy recs that guys get camisoles and panties and stay completely away from thongs, however much they want them. They also have to coax some guys out of the weird virgin/whore complex that presupposes that racy lingerie suggests "mistress." I would personally add to this: if there is any danger of receiving lingerie, ever, beat into the buyer's brain the brand you wear: it's so hard to find stuff that works with the vagaries of individual breasts there's no point taking a chance on a line that cuts small through the back (ahem, Elle MacPherson) or inconsistently in the cup (yes, looking at you, Gap Body.) Because the thing about lingerie gifts is, even if they kind of suck, most of us will wear them just to be good sports. Like faking orgasms, this kind of white lying runs the risk of fooling a guy into thinking he's done an awesome job and repeating the error but I do feel it's one of those occasions where prevarication is kind. Unless, you know, we're talking about a raccoon suit or some other outlier - which disciplines the academy does not appear to address.

How To Buy Underwear For Women [Times of London]