Ms. Victoria’s Secret Angel

Before you get your lacy panties in a twist, let me clarify that this post is not about my future career as a lingerie model.  (Try to contain your disappointment.)  This is about how, according to my (surprisingly extensive) first-hand experience with half-naked Parisian women, many of them seem to have secret lives as a lingerie model underneath their potato sack dresses, baggy tunic tops, and generally conservative over-garments.

For quite some time now, after clocking overtime hours at the gym, I’ve gained some first-hand insight into how Parisian women dress themselves.  And what I find baffling is that they all wear matching lingerie sets.

ALL THE TIME.

I admire their ambition and their meticulous attention to detail.  But come on!  As an American pragmatist, how in bloody hell do they pull this off?

They can’t all have the disposable income to own that many expensive-looking lacy concoctions that they can wear every day.  And they certainly can’t all have the disposable income to replace them all the time, since this is what they wear to the gym.  (I mean, that must chafe, right?) Furthermore, how can they possibly have the dedication to match their undergarments every day when it’s all I can do to match my socks every morning?

I suppose HOW they can afford such a lingerie collection isn’t too difficult to figure out.  Going on observational data alone, I’d venture to guess that they just forgo other frivolous expenses like — well — food, for instance.

Dear readers, please don’t misunderstand.  It’s not like I wear granny panties all the time.  On the contrary, I am morally opposed to evil panty lines showing through clothing, and I make it a point to always sport appropriately skimpy knickers so that nothing interrupts the curve of my bum.  I am religious about this kind of thing, and I make no secret of it.  Tenacious Ken over at Lustmongers, a fellow ass enthusiast, will back me up on this.

And we all know that cute underwear ensures that we have enough confidence to strut our stuff much more effectively in everyday life.  I consider sexy underwear to be a service to mankind as well as a service to womankind.

But that doesn’t mean that a lady needs to match her bra with her panties every day.  That is just absurd and impractical.  As long as my undies fit me beautifully and deliver just enough visual stimulation via lace and/or color to make me feel like a foxy minx on the prowl, then my mission is accomplished.

However, the Parisian panty scene is just… baffling!  But I have a few theories about this ubiquitous need to wear matching underwear sets:

  1. The pressure to find a man must be so overwhelming that a Parisian lady must be ready pounce and lock that shit down at any moment.
  2. They are all in relationships and so terrified of their men’s infidelity that they invest in frilly underwear in the hopes that the sheer (I mean this both figuratively AND literally) enticing nature of their lingerie will be enough to prevent cheating.
  3. This must be the absurd parisian female equivalent of the old adage that implores us to wear clean underwear at all times in order to avoid the humiliation of being taken to hospital in unsavory skivvies — the equivalent being that a lady must always wear ridiculously embellished matching lingerie sets at all times in the off-chance that she needs to have a sexy soap-opera scene with a hunky doctor upon her arrival in the emergency room.
  4. Lingerie ONLY comes in sets in Paris.
  5. Every woman at the gym is a high-end “escort.”

Obviously, the last two theories are the least likely to be correct.  And, after some heated discussion with my homegirl, Julie the Irish Parisienne, and after her thoroughly disturbing anecdote about a Parisian colleague who bought FORTY matching sets of underwear in ONE sitting, we determined that 1, 2, and 3 must be the winning tickets.

However, I can’t figure out a way to prove that conclusively.  I’ve tried asking strangers in the locker room about the rationale behind their underwear choices… but without success.

Please don’t follow my example, people.  The poor girls just looked askance at me and backed away as if I was a creepy perv that was about to roofie them.

So alas, I still have no insight into the lingerie question.

But don’t worry, I am on the job.  I will find out.  Knowledge of all things lacy constitutes essential background research on the man-shopping scene in Paris, so I will not let you down, dear readers.  I will just need to take some time to perfect my methodology here…

But in the meantime, to my female French readers, I implore you to comment here or email me.  Help us to understand!

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29 Comments

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29 responses to “Ms. Victoria’s Secret Angel

  1. Honestly…how much money do french women make? Do they realize how expensive that gets? The husband is lucky if he ever finds me in matching sets. 🙂

    • That’s what I was thinking! And I bet that you can use the prospect of wahoo underwear as a way to motivate your husband from time to time, yes? 🙂 Matching ALL the time makes it more difficult to deliver a truly special underwear experience for those extra-racy occasions.

  2. French typh

    This is pretty funny! I use to do that a whiiiile ago. And stopped it for obvious reasons!
    Most of the time french girls just tend to stick with pretty classic colours, as far as their underwears are concerned. Which makes it pretty easy to match!
    After leaving abroad I noticed that other girls have a lot more fun with their panties! Mixing all sorts of colours, patterns and shapes.
    And how do you want to match a blue and yellow stripy tong with a pink panther bra?

    • Hiya Typh!!

      You’re right, the colors are pretty basic; I mostly see black and red in the locker room. And as for me, I definitely fit your observations about American underwear habits. I’ve loads of happy colors and patterns, I’m just drawn to them.

      And for the record, I think that a blue and yellow stripy thong ALWAYS goes with a pink panther bra 🙂 In my opinion, it’s all about the spirit of fun!

  3. First I LOVE your blog! It always makes me laugh. Second, you are living my dream. Living in Paris. Third, I’m going to show my husband this post and maybe the idea of me wearing matching, sexy bra & undies everyday will motivate him to want to move to Paris also. I highly doubt it but it’s worth a shot!

  4. LACRESHA! Hold that thought! Do you really want to move your husband to a town full of stick insect woman wearing sexy lingerie who have different views on fidelity than you or I? Why do you think me and manshopper are single 😉

    Perhaps there might be a better plan, like london with frequent eurostars to paris!

    • I’m with Julie on this. Telling your husband that parisian women sex up their lingerie will motivate him to come here in order to rip THEIR clothes off instead of YOURS! Unless this is your goal, LaCresha, you may need to rethink your strategy here.

      But I am glad that you’re enjoying the blog! I hope that it at least convinces your hubby how lucky he is to have you and not be living the pseudo disaster that is my lovelife 🙂

  5. This is seriously almost enough reason to move to France.

    Almost.

  6. Ken

    //Every woman at the gym is a high-end “escort.”//

    They’re not?? Well, screw my membership, then.

    • Oh Ken, I am terribly sorry to disappoint you. However, we both know the real reason that you are at the gym, and I am pretty sure that this reason can be summed up in one word:

      Spandex.

  7. “And we all know that cute underwear ensures that we have enough confidence to strut our stuff much more effectively in everyday life. I consider sexy underwear to be a service to mankind as well as a service to womankind.”

    Hear, hear. Manshopper for president!

  8. Man.
    I wish my undies were always matching.
    Mine are either cartoon or ridiculously slutty.
    But they never match, unless its the day after laundry day.
    Too much of a gemini I guess.
    We should go on a shopping trip together.

    • You know very well that if we went on a lingerie shopping trip together, we would surely have an ‘incident’. It would go something like this:

      1) We buy heaps of beautiful, racy, lacy underthings.
      2) One of us trips over a banana peel, takes us both out like bowling pins, and the bags go flying.
      3) A homeless man snaps up our new purchases before we have time to get up and proceeds to drools/lick/smell them all in front of us.
      4) We both run away hoping never to see that underwear ever again.

  9. I was cracking up at the image of you trying to do a Sherlock Holmes panty interview in the ladies locker room. Don’t worry, my quick brain came to this reasoning: If they are “dressed for success” underneath and are ready to pounce on a willing man, you need to enlist a man to go about your questioning. Preferably at a bar where you can sit a booth behind to record said interview and the booze is free flowing to ignite the confession.
    Let me know how it goes.
    Sincerely,
    Watson

    • Hmmm… This would be perfect if any of my male friends here were single.

      Good god. How is it that NONE of my male friends are single? That seems like an unsettling coincidence…

  10. Kavita

    Hi Helene! I’m writing my qualifying exams and thought this was the perfect moment to rediscover your blog. And its as entertaining as ever!… but I just have to jump in to defend granny panties. It was embarrassing every time, but I had a good few years when granny panties seemed to be my good luck charm when it came to men and pouncing (usually there was lots of booze involved, too, but hey ;))

  11. Jenna J

    I should be writing my psyc paper.

  12. A Fellow Yellow

    A French friend of mine has a STUNNING quantity of matching sets. And you know as well as I do that this shit is expensive here. She doesn’t go for the affordable Etam or Soleil Sucré stuff either, we’re talking over 100 euros a set. I think she told me she had something like 40+ sets. I must admit I’m a set kind of gal, but I manage to hit the mark only about 50% of the time- the rest of the time I’m totally mismatched and dressed for comfort.

    • Thank you for confirming my rambling observations!

      It is freakishly expensive here… why? Just… WHY?

      • A Fellow Yellow

        I s’pose for the same reason nearly every single item for purchase in France is ridiculously priced. I do not know for certain what this reason is but I suspect it vaguely has something to do with the guy downstairs who hasn’t had a job in 2 years and who appears to not be remotely interested in finding one.

        Low-end curling iron for 50 euros anyone? House key for 45 euros? A pair of shitty plastic shoes for 79 euros? Craziness. After paying this much for stuff, how do French women afford their skivvies? Maybe there’s a government program we don’t know about that provides an annual allowance for lingerie? I should ask my accountant…

  13. Pingback: Ms. Lap Sitter | Man-shopping in Paris

  14. Pingback: Ms. Lingerie Goddess | Man-shopping in Paris

  15. Outstanding post however , I was wondering if you could
    write a litte more on this subject? I’d be very grateful if you could elaborate a little bit more.
    Bless you!

  16. When I originally commented I clicked the “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox and now each time a comment is added I get
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