Best Supporting Role

I have a theory that if early-design bras had been stretchy, one-size-fits-all things like the current microfibre range (variously named “Ah Bra,” “Genie Bra,” “Magic Bra” etc) then the concept of a brassiere that was adjustable, would be revolutionary.  

Retrofitted ads would scream “Finally!  A bra with straps you can lengthen or shorten, and catches at the back that allow you to tighten the fit when it gets too stretchy, or loosen when you gain weight!" 

It’s a classic case of fixing something that isn't broken.  Of believing that because something is new, it’s therefore better. 

However, I wouldn’t mind putting a Genie Bra in a time machine and taking it back to the mid 1970s.   I’m sure the smallest microfibre bra would have been far more comfortable, and less threatening, than the structured “Training Bras” covering the budding bosoms of the era.

Getting your first bra was not generally something to boast about.  At a certain stage, you began wearing a singlet if there was any chance you’d have to undress in front of others, and eventually,  depending on (a) your age (b) the comparative size of your friends and (c) whether you played sport or liked to use a trampoline,  you accepted it was Bra Time.

Girls who developed early often wore clothes that helped disguise their changing figure.  Boys, with their tit-sensing hormones, would still sneak up and run a finger down the girl’s spine to feel for the tell-tale bump of a bra fastener.   Apparently this was quite thrilling for them *rolls eyes*

Look at those colours - in the 1960s? - the brazen hussies!

In Australia, Holeproof Fibs were a Godsend to young teen girls, the closest thing we had to an “Ah Bra” but a lot funkier and even less of a ‘real’ bra.   Fibs were soft stretchy bras, sans adjustable bits, with matching knickers, and came in neon colors and 70s patterns that included bold-colored paisleys.  Before Fibs, bra colour choices ranged pretty much from white to beige to skintone.  On a good day, you might see pale pink or pale blue.   Black bras were for bad girls and lacey red ones were for prostitutes, we all knew that.

Naturally the makers of ‘real’ bras tut-tutted and assured our mothers that these bras did not offer support and would lead to Stretch Marks and a Saggy Bustline.





Which leads us to the specialist fitter at any large department store, where we endured a stranger (often a former nurse) with cold hands wrapping us with a tape measure, then bringing a selection of suitable brassieres which she would stretch, pull and twang around our shoulders and back, sometimes even doing a little ‘cupping’ in order to get the Right Fit.  

It was tough for our mothers too, trying to feign interest in what the fitter had to say, yet knowing we were mortified to have her focusing so closely on our 32AAA chest.   They’d both speak as if you weren’t even there, as if your bust was some rogue to be tamed.


As our teen years progressed, we could shop for our own bras, but even then, it seemed the moment you set foot in the lingerie department, somebody would spring up from behind the Berlei  display and insist your were Professionally Fitted.  


I miss many fashions of the 70s, but the undergarments?   NOT a bit.