As I was watching Morning Express with Robin Meade which didn’t have Robin Meade but Natasha Curry. Apparently Robin Meade is becoming the Johnny Carson of morning TV. I noticed they had a story about a bra commercial that Lane Bryant was trying to run and refused to edit, despite a network request. The ad features an exotic yet voluptuous young lady getting ready to leave the house in her underwear. In fact the young lady in the ad looks a lot like Robin Meade. The new commercial is for Lane Bryant’s new lingerie line Cacique.
I saw nothing wrong with it, but I grew up in Europe, which was a teenage boys dream as far as seeing bra ads are concerned. I remember ads posted on bus stops with topless women, it was an ad for the Lotto or beer. I’m not sure why she had to be topless, however I do know that I now drink my fair share of beer and play the Lotto occasionally so it must have worked.
To this day however Lane Bryant has a special place in my heart. I had no idea who or what Lane Bryant was back in December of 1993. I was married had a new daughter and it was going to be her first Christmas with us, and I wanted my wife to have a great and memorable Christmas as well. Let me preface this by pointing out I hate the mall. I don’t mean I dislike it I mean I hate it much how a lion feels about a hyena there is something in my genetic make up that make me and the mall natural prehistoric enemies. And if one never goes to the mall one doesn’t necessarily understand what all the stores cater too and this is still the case for me.
Back some ten years prior a friends Father taught me the key to Christmas shopping in the mall, the trick is to have a few cocktails have a wad of cash, and do all your shopping on Christmas Eve. That way you get free gift wrapping, the best discounts, and the cocktails curtail that pesky decision making process so things go much faster. So on Christmas Eve I left my daughter and wife to go off and do my Christmas shopping. I was told, by my wife, that she wanted clothes. Armed with that knowledge and a few cocktails I took off on my speed walk/shopping spree through the hated mall. I went in a few stores and found nothing. Finally I came upon a store that was perfect. The clothes were my wife’s taste and even though I didn’t know her size I guestimated and walked out with all her Christmas gifts wrapped an hour later. I felt pretty good about myself and was sure I had secured a memorable Christmas for all, and I was right.
That evening we decided to open one gift and save the rest for the morning. I don’t remember what I opened because I was awaiting the adoration coming my way for my excellent taste in clothes, as my wife opened up one of her dresses. The look on her face as she ripped open the wrapping paper to expose the Lane Bryant box was in my defense hard to read. The look of totally ecstasy and horror are very easy to confuse in the first couple of seconds. After my mind registered that it was a look of horror fast turning to extreme anger I knew something was amiss. “This is a joke …right?” she exclaimed. “You don’t like it?” I asked. I’ll spare you the expletive laced conversation that followed lets just say it was not a good Christmas, and I am no longer married.
Lane Bryant therefore became a part of my life story. When my daughter became old enough to wonder why I and her Mother were divorced, I’ve always started the story off with. “Well your first Christmas I went shopping at Lane Bryant.” Not many kids can say they laugh at the story about the start of their parents divorce. But my daughter can, she asks me to tell her the story every Christmas. It is our version The Night Before Christmas.