Wish fulfilment
From The Times; September 9, 2004
A couture corset
My body is frustratingly stubborn. Much as I try to nurture a tolerant relationship with it, the response is a flagrant disregard for authority.
"You don't like those folds around the waist?" it taunts. "Well, watch and weep as they double in size!"
No surprise, then, that one of the rare items of clothing that shows the bod who's boss has been consistently desirable over the centuries. Women have heaved and squeezed themselves into corsets for as long as they have been hung up about their form. Early designs can be traced as far back as Ancient Greece, though they are more often associated with the strait-laced propriety of the 19th century, when sartorial structure was highly valued.
By the 1960s the corset had become a dirty word - the enemy of the liberated woman. The Corsetier Lyall Hakaraia, who has confined the busts of the very emancipated Liz Hurley, Christina Aguilera and Joan Collins, is reclaiming the ground for women keen to emulate the hourglass figure.
If the jewel-encrusted, painstakingly embroidered designs, made to original Victorian patterns, don't have you fainting in delight, the four to six inches that drop off your waist surely will.
"Wearing a corset reorganises your internal organs," says Hakaraia with a cheeky glint. And there is still something superbly glamorous about suffering for the sake of a bountiful cleavage and waspish waist.
Today's abundance of comfort clothing, says Hakaraia, has led people back to the bossiness of the corset: "It's a relief to have your posture, and even the way you walk, controlled by clothing."
And that's nothing compared with the joy of having chin-level boobs.
So, another example of male-orchestrated body fascism or a heaven-sent device to liberate women from bits best squeezed away? It's your choice.
ANNA SHEPARD