Parties That Go On Behind Clothes Doors
A trend, a movement, a phenomenon , has apparently been sweeping across America, changing if not downright revolutionizing the way that (if appearances are to be believed) normal, God-fearing women think about, you know, lingerie.
And other things.
According to Brooke “All orders are confidential!” Rey, she of Brooke’s Lingerie Parties, this has been going on for about a decade.
Women, and sometimes men, are gathering in the homes of friends, neighbors and colleagues, bearing casseroles or whatnot, with the intent of purchasing lingerie (and accessories) without the risk of being spotted entering a boutique of questionable clientele, or the alienation that might be associated with, say, the Home Shopping Network.
And here I thought I got out a lot.
So Brooke, a nice married lady of 29 whose business card features a tasteful yet coyly suggestive photograph of herself modeling some of the merchandise (with the addition of black fishnet stockings), characterized this phenomenon in terms that I could understand.
“Yes, it is like a Tupperware party,” she said. “But it’s different plastic.”
I caught up with Brooke the other evening at Kim’s house in a sparkling new subdivision in South County, only because Kim’s mother, Joyce, whose idea this was in the first place, demurred about holding the thing at her place.
(In the interest of eliciting complete and honest spontaneity from party-goers, and therefore ensuring truthful reporting, I have agreed to use only first names, or maybe astrological signs.)
Not that this group was exactly shy about revealing the intimate details of their lives.
Joan, for example, has been married for 22 years and is the happy mother of two children.
“If I came home with some of this stuff, my husband would laugh me right out of the house,” she said. “If I could get his attention between commercials, that is.”
Fact is, most of the 16 party-goers were married, excluding Natalie, who plans to be this summer, and who came to Kim’s house with her future mother-in-law.
By virtue of her great body, and the fact that she didn’t really know these people, Natalie was selected to model some of the lingerie selections that Brooke had brought to sell.
Only Natalie was kind of shy. She refused to turn around, for example, while modeling certain ensembles.
But, hey, these women got the idea.
The idea, according to Brooke, was to relax, have some fun, pick up some helpful hints about things that you might not want to ask your mother about, although that didn’t seem to be a problem with this group after all.
Said Joyce, Kim’s mom, while examining one of several bottles of lotions and oils, “Yeah, that would be a dumb thing to buy, something with a numbing effect.”
And Victoria, who is single and born under the sign of Cancer, suggested that she would have liked to see condoms on sale, some fun ones, say, something that glows in the dark.
Except that Brooke said the really hot item, from a sales perspective naturally, is restraints.
Sadly, the only restraints that Brooke had available the other night were the furry pink “love cuffs,” which she pointed out could be used on either partner “or you could cuff the kids together so you can have a few hours of love.”
(Be advised, however, that when Brooke did a lingerie party in Las Vegas not too long ago, the love cuffs didn’t make it through the metal detectors at the airport. Told about them later, however, a couple of the flight attendants wanted to get their hands on them right away).
Brooke said the company she represents is planning to include more restraints in its upcoming catalogue. Bigwig button-down types, she said, like to be tied up.
“All fantasies are confidential,” Brooke said.
Anyway, Brooke said she got into this line of work more than three years ago at her husband’s suggestion. She said she was going through an identity crisis and getting bored with the housewife thing. “I love my job!” she said.
And the ladies at Kim’s house apparently were fond of it too. When I checked with Brooke the next day, she said they’d booked her for six more parties and ordered up $1,000 worth of lingerie and stuff.
“Like what stuff?” I asked.
“Oh, you know, all orders are confidential!” she chirped.
“You mean, like . . . “
“I was shocked at what they bought,” Brooke revealed. “You think you know your audience and then . . . “
OK, no names, of course. But from what I hear, Scorpio is a sign to watch.
