Fit to Bust? Bra Fitting Services Uncovered

EIGHT out of ten women are supposedly wearing the wrong sized bra.

I know that I, for one, am among that number, which is why I took me and my breasts around Manchester’s lingerie fitting services.

We are all tired out.

Never in the course of human history have my boobs been prodded, poked and cajoled into so many different brassieres. They have become nomadic, of no fixed abode, but have they found a bra that fits?

The sexy boudoir bra looked like something the Ministry of Defence might order. It was huge and rather solidly constructed. More Dreadnought than sweet nothings.

This is what happened when I went bra shopping.

All the establishments were tasked with fitting me up for an everyday bra to wear for work and something suitable for a mucky weekend. The resulting reviews are 100 per cent impartial; none of the shops were aware I was researching for this article...

---

Agent Provocateur  81 King Street, Manchester, M2 4AH

Agent Provocateur SelectionA slightly daunting shop to enter.

All the bras on display are the same size: microscopic, like nipple covers or something. If you want anything bigger, you have to ask for it or go elsewhere.

The shop assistants are all coiffed to perfection and dressed like the embodiment of a retro male fantasy about waitresses in an ice cream parlour or a 50s coffee bar. Although it made me feel a bit like a heffalump looking for a pair of boulder holders, the staff were very friendly and welcoming. Full marks for efficiency too. I was served straight away - in fact the shop was deserted at the time.

Although the dressing rooms were a bit tired, they had a louche, boudoir-esque vibe and were definitely one of the best of the bunch. They made underwear shopping seem like an event although the lighting was not the dim, romantic ambience you’d expect, more a harsh glare.

The fitting itself was a bit surprising – I was warned there’d be no actual measuring with tape measures and the like. In fact, what ensued was me trying on a myriad different bras and trying to whittle them down until we found which ones were a perfect fit. Or a fit. I seemed to be in charge here - pointing out problems with the fit, suggesting I might need to go up a back size, whilst the assistant prattled on.

The experience was quite fun although I felt a bit claustrophobic. The assistant waited on the other side of the curtain and kept asking if I was ready. I’d not even removed the first bra, let alone ensconced myself in the other one.

The bras that were selected for my weekend of passion tended towards the tacky. Cerise was the predominant theme. Unfortunately the Novah bra that was proffered was a little stained, as if a previous customer had lactated. Delightful.

Even more surprising was the bra chosen for work. It was fine, a champagne (read beige) coloured bra that was quite pretty but plain. No surprise there. However, it was the enthusiastic upselling of the matching suspender belt that was a little unusual.

I don’t know what she thinks goes on in our office.

Primark  106-122 Market Street, Manchester, M1 1WA

Eventually found the underwear department and asked a bemused member of staff about their bra fitting service. It was as if I’d wandered into Lidl and asked them about their range of foie gras.

After a minute, the puzzlement disappeared and was replaced by what I can only describe as an epiphany. The girl’s face lit up as she said, “You could go to Debenhams. They’re really good.” So off I went...

Debenhams  123 Market Street, Manchester, M60 1TA

      Debenhams SelectionI stood around for a while like a shop dummy by the changing rooms until someone finally noticed I might require assistance.

Perhaps I was just overawed by the plethora of certificates (DB Apparel Bra Fitting Course, CSO Advisor, WOW Advisor) assuring me that I was about to experience the pinnacle of bra fitting professionalism. Not yet I wasn’t. So popular was this service, I had to make an appointment for later in the day.

For once I arrived punctually, then had to wait quarter of an hour for my fitter to turn up. I’ll stick to my usual policy of being late for everything in future.

The changing rooms were functional at best. The cubicle was massive but I felt a twinge of guilt that I was occupying the disabled facilities in order to be measured up. Disabled people buy clothes too, you know.

There was an enthusiastic air conditioning unit overhead and I was a little worried the fitting might have to be conducted through the medium of sign language. Then a large clump of dust fell out of said unit and drifted to the ground. What’s sign language for ‘Yuk’ ?

The assistant was very friendly and smiley but also thorough. Keeping my bra on, I was measured around the ribcage and round the bust then tried a range of bras on. My bra lady waited at the end of the corridor so every time I put a new bra on, I had to poke my head out of the curtains and grin manically to get her to come and assess the fit. I felt a bit daft but I didn’t feel rushed or pressured.

To be fair, the assistant spent a lot of time checking the fit of each and every bra I tried on and there were many. She explained which ranges went up to my size and where I would find the bigger bras.

The chosen bras were not really my cup of tea. The everyday bra was fine but the sexy boudoir bra looked like something the Ministry of Defence might order. It was huge and rather solidly constructed. More Dreadnought than sweet nothings.

La Senza  Arndale Centre, Corporation Street, Manchester, M4 3AB

La Senza SelectionI must be getting old, but walking into La Senza was a frightening experience.

It was hot and I was blinded by the array of fluorescence. It was like being back at my junior school disco, only with luminous bras rather than day-glo cycling shorts.

I asked for a bra fitting and I have never known such efficiency. Before I even had a chance to step towards a cubicle, my bra fitter had whipped the tape measure out from round her neck and wrapped it round me.

The tape was pulled very tightly, maybe to compensate for the fact I was still wearing my clothes. The ribcage was measured but not the bust. The fitting was very speedy and perhaps that’s for the best as the whole event took place while a woman, feeding her baby Wotsits, looked on with interest.

I stood around gawkily for a while and then was asked if I needed some help. It’s a good job, because apart from the display models, most of the bras are hidden away in drawers according to their size. This makes it easy to find what you are looking for, but only if you know about the system. As they’re the sleek, black, handle-free type of drawers, I didn’t even realise they were there.

Despite the perfunctory nature of the fitting, the bras selected were a good choice and I was quite happy with the fit.

The fitting rooms were dinky, which may be why public fittings are the order of the day. The lighting was reasonably flattering but overall, they had seen better days.

In fact, judging by the lipstick smears, someone had tried to kiss them better.

John Lewis  Peel Avenue, Trafford Centre, Manchester, M17 8JL

John Lewis SelectionA very organised, business-like fitting. No appointment, just sailed straight in.

Everything went smoothly although there was no sense of occasion. It was just shopping for smalls.

The fitting rooms were plain but they were clean and roomy enough that I didn’t keep bashing my elbows. The lighting wasn’t particularly flattering but it was no horror show. All in all, fine.

Stripped to my bra, my ribcage was measured and my cup size was determined as an E by a method other than the traditional tape measure – I was peered at like a greengrocer eyeing up melons.

I tried on a range of different bras and the fit was checked very thoroughly. I poured myself into different sizes until the perfect fit was found. Each time I was examined in four places: the back was checked to make sure it didn’t embed itself in my flesh but was tight enough to prevent droopage; the underneath of the cup was checked to make sure it sat in the right place and gathered up everything it was meant to gather; the centre of the bra was checked to make sure the cleavage was flattering and not obscene, and that the bra didn’t dig in; finally, the cup was examined to make sure it was filled out with no unsightly overspill – nobody wants four boobs.

I didn’t get that claustrophobic feeling of having someone hanging around outside my door listening to me huff and puff as I hoisted my assets around. The poor fitter kept flitting between cubicles. I kept hearing her voice emanating from at least three of the changing rooms but she seemed unflappable throughout, making it seem like she had all the time in the world for me.

The choice of bras was pretty good too. The vamp outfit was the least garish, whilst still sexy and the plain bra was a rather unimaginative T-shirt bra but it served its purpose.

Bravissimo  Corn Exchange, Exchange Square, Manchester, M4 3TR

Bravissimo SelectionThis shop is like a tardis.

I entered and was ushered upstairs. Considering I hadn’t even realised there was an upstairs, I was surprised by how big it seemed – and also how busy. I feared this might be a ‘come back another day’ situation but they managed to slot me into one of their many fitting rooms.

It was an interesting experience. The dressing rooms were spacious and the décor was relatively fresh and quirky but it all seemed designed to make you join the club.

Everything seemed to proclaim: ‘Welcome to the world of the big-breasted lady. Be a Bravissimo babe. Go girls.’

There were photos of the staff and loyal fans of the brand sharing their cup size and heart-warming stories about their beautiful big boobs and how wearing the right size bra from Bravissimo had changed their life.

There were suggested put downs you could offer to sexist builders (sorry builders, but it is you who are named and shamed in this display) who appreciated your figure rather too vocally. Not being much of a club-joiner, this washed over me a bit. If anything, I found it a bit silly. Bravissimo need to be careful with these displays – if people start burning their bras, they’ll be out of a job.

However, my fitter didn’t try to get me to do a Masonic handshake or subscribe to any sort of Boob Pride organisation. She was very nice and helpful.

I was measured around my rib cage and then the favoured greengrocer method of cup size appraisal was performed (see John Lewis above). Although given the different sizes arrived at, one of these greengrocers must need glasses.

I tried a range of different bras on and, having by now been through the process so many times, had lost all inhibition. My bra fitter stayed in the cubicle with me (for more shy and retiring types, you are offered the option of having her wait on the other side of the curtain), doing a thorough check on the fit of each bra and demonstrating how to jiggle myself into the cup to road test how it would fit after a hard day’s graft. I hadn’t realised we women spent so much of our working lives bent forward, jiggling.

A good choice of bras were offered as well as advice about dropping a cup size in bras with fuller cups or in smaller fitting makes, such as Fantasie. I was also told that I should always try on bras on the loosest fitting so when the bra loses its elasticity, it can be fastened on a tighter hook.

Marks and Spencer 7 Market Street, Manchester, M1 1WT

            M&S SelectionObviously the Mecca of Bra Fitting judging by the fact I needed to make an appointment for later in the week. I had high hopes.

The changing rooms weren’t bad. The cubicles themselves were basic, but with three mirrors in order to inflict unflattering angles on you no matter which way you turn. A frightening hall of mirrors effect but at least you can see how you look from the back and side. There was some effort to make the rest of the changing room area look a bit more trendy (nothing too cutting edge – this is Marks and Sparks after all) with black and white photos of models in their pants.

I had made an error in wearing an ill-fitting bra. When I removed my top to be measured up, there was head-shaking and a sharp intake of breath. I was told that my current bra was far too small. Me and my boobs had been placed in the naughty corner.

My rib cage was measured but not the bust. I am finding that this hands off approach seems to be the done thing. The cup size was an estimated C. After trying on a succession of lingerie, it became apparent that this estimate was actually more of a wild stab in the dark. With each bra that didn’t quite fit, there was more tut-tutting and I began to feel like I was going to be sent to the headmaster for mammary disobedience at any moment.

It was refreshing to be offered bras other than T-shirt bras for normal wear. It’s nice to have something not too utilitarian, even if you’re at work. The seduction bra was a little dull, although it looked better in other colours.

Confusingly, I was also offered some post-fitting advice. I was told that I should always try bras using the middle fastening so if I lose weight, it can be fastened more tightly, and if I gain weight, the bra can be fastened on the loosest hook. I’ve had advice like this before, only last time it was totally different.

Final thoughts...

Now I have been professionally measured for a bra six times over the course of a few days, I can safely say that I have no idea what size I should be buying. 36E, 36D, 38D, 34FF, 34F? Your guess is as good as mine.

I know that my bra (34D) doesn’t fit but I don’t know what to do about it. A well-fitted bra can prevent back pain and improve posture. I guess I’ll crack open the paracetamol and start auditioning for ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’.