"BRAzen Thoughts "

My boyfriend loves to see me in a bra. He especially likes when the bra is made of chiffon or lace because they’re "see-through". Day to day, I find bras to be uncomfortable and confining. Since I’m small enough to fly free, I pretty much only wear bras when necessary, or to excite le boyfriend. We both think bras are beautiful.

I’m very happy that my current boyfriend respects my bras. In the past, I’ve datedguys who had no clue how to unclasp them because apparently it’s so complicated. During a quick spasm called "hard-on," irreparable stretching is inflicted on my bra strap while my fishnet stockings are torn to shreds from impulsive grabbing and having been sadly tossed into a dusty corner. It’s a tragedy when you really loved that old bra, and you want to punch the perpetrator in the head for destroying it. But you don’t, because you still want sex.Besides, you can always chastise him after, or make him buy you a newer, nicer bra.

The attention I devote to the style of my undergarments is a newfound realization, a conscientiousness that arose shortly after having met my recent bra-honoring boyfriend. I trace this newfound attention back to an early instance in our relationship when I had to refuse sex with him out of the sheer embarrassment that my in-between-laundry undies would be a total turn-off - especially to me!

That was the day I vowed to rid myself of every unflattering undergarment lurking in my closet, waiting to be worn in a moment of carelessness, impeding my way towards sex. It’s hard to part some specific underwear, especially if they’ve survived laundry cycles for years. You try to justify keeping them around - that they deserve to be in your possession for sticking by your side for so long. But sometimes, you have to call a spade a spade, and grasp that the only way these panties have stuck to you is like a thorn in your side.

Now, I have to admit, I don’t only wear bras when its essential, or purposefully as a precursor to sex. Sometimes when I’m home alone, I get vain. I sit in front of the mirror staring at myself, with a bra on, turning around at all angles to examine how I look in it. How nice, round and perky this garment makes my breasts look!

This self-ogling vanity always happens unexpectedly. While changing, I catch a reflection of my body and dramatically, a color breaks the uniformity of my skin tone. My eyes fixate on my fabric-covered chest. It’s like a stop sign but in a good way, a crowd waving at the race’s finish line shouting, "you made it! You’re here!"

No matter who it is, whether it’s a fat, thin, or hairy woman wearing the bra, it at least instigates a momentary glance. Even if it’s out of morbid curiosity. In the heat of a fleeting glance there are two options when confronted with the vision of a bra. The first is to gaze at and admire. Bra connoisseurs will take additional notice to judge whether a bra in question is the loveliest or most hideous ever manufactured. The second option is to turn away, should the object of attention disrupt your ideal vision of beauty.

What I love most about bras is how sexy their designs can be. There’s no reason to wear an ugly one, especially if you’re stacked, need extra support, or claim that comfort is crucial. It’s all the more reason to go buy a really nice one now.

It’s easy to spend dreamy hours perusing store racks lined with bras, some made of shiny satin, others with rhinestone appliqués, and my personal favorite, accents of lace.

And like me, any die-hard lingerie lover can, over time, build a fantastic collection. Until then, it’s one at a time or rent won’t be paid - especially if your inescapable addiction draws you to "Lejaby" or "La Perla".

As I write this, suddenly I feel the urge put on a bra because admittedly, I haven’t been wearing one this whole time.

I know I won’t return to this topic once I hit my closet boudoir, blatantly distracted by either how nice my bra is, or thoughts about breasts in general, covered underneath.

I guess the direction of my thoughts will depend, how nice is the bra in question?

Elayne Laken is a Toronto-based freelance writer and photojournalist. When she's not busy covering Toronto Fashion Week or the Toronto International Film Festival Elayne is a contributor to Elle Magazine, Privilege Magazine, Dining Out Toronto among others. She also writes a weekly syndicated entertainment column with Tribune Media Services. Beyond journalism, some things that Elayne finds inspiring are abandoned buildings, house pets, infomercials and Ali G.