A pretty little bra with big detailing. Our heroine’s hair - giving the impression of hurried preparation - belies a practised and surefooted selection of brasiere. Our lady confidently meets our gaze and establishes a meeting of equals.
Rogue never cared about fancy underwear. Beyond the cute, matching sets she’d buy that made her feel put together, back when no one got to see anything, it felt pretty pointless to give it any thought beyond practicality. Even after she started having sex, it still wasn’t relevant, because, usually, she’d go from fully clothed to ass naked at the speed of light. When she finally gave lingerie consideration she went to Victoria’s Secret, and kept going for years without giving it a second thought.
When Emma Frost finds out, she’s appalled. Utterly unimpressed, she stares at the rhinestone-infested, cheap-lace covered, tacky-jewel-tone-colored abominable pieces she owns and decides that Remy Lebeau must have really loved the woman if he went along with those. The White Queen will not have that and takes her to La Perla and Agent Provocateur. Because, Rogue, you do not put bumper stickers on a Bugatti.
Rogue doesn’t know much of textiles, fabrics, or designers, but even she can’t help but notice the difference, or her appreciation and awe at the obvious artistry that goes into the craft of premium chantilly lace, the decadent, rich velvet trimming, and the beautiful, delicate, beadwork some of these pieces have. It strikes her as utterly decadent and is, if only for half a second, kinda mortified at the though that she, had essentially, worn generic for a man like Gambit, because, ‘Oh God, she’d been feeding a chef LeanCousine the entire time’. Then, she remembers he’s Remy and he’d like her in a trash bag, and promptly gets over it.
She tries on her favourite in all the boutique. A beautiful Agent Provocateur set of beautiful sheer black tulle, with black velvet piping, and black and dark ruby coloured tiny beads embroidered through the bra. The tulle is utterly transparent, and wearing it, it looks like scarlet-beaded, black-lined flowers are tattooed all over her bosom. She’s absolutely in love with the whole thing. Emma loves it on her ‘Good eye. Beyonce wore that bra under the mustard yellow Roberto Cavalli she wore in Lemonade’. Rogue Doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but she doesn’t care. She feels like a Bond Girl in it. Mainly, though, its the subtle, almost unnoticeable twinkling of red the beading glints with when the light hits, that she likes the most, it reminds her of-AND she sees the price tag. The three-piece-set cannot be a pound in weight, and at just shy of a thousand bucks, it’s still on the mid-range price at the store. She decides its a lovely store, with lovely underwear, and she gets it, really. She’s not lacking in money, but for her, it’s just too much. She walks out without a problem, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that putting the set back in its place, made her ache in the place in her heart where her very real, pure, feminine frivolity inhabited.
A dejected Emma gives up, sighs, and rolls her eyes ‘Ugh,just go to For Love & Lemons dot com and click on SKIVVIES. Knock yourself out with those, if real craftsmanship offends your modest sensibilities’. Rogue does not get what Emma was scoffing all about when she enters the website. Sure, it’s nowhere near as sophisticated, she guesses, but it’s still beautiful in a whimsical sort of way, with the tiny flowers and adorable motifs. It looks something a wood fairy might wear in bed. Besides, each piece is, at least, a hundred bucks cheaper, and though still expensive, it’s reasonable, or at the very least, justifiable. Plus, their pieces have the whole transparency-thing she saw in the more expensive stores, and she loved that. She gets two sets: The first, sheer, nude tulle, blush velvet trimmed, underwired, high-waisted, with cut-outs, and embroidered white blossoms that strategically cover the tips of her breastskindof. The second is a more to the point, basic black, lacy, and strappy. Both bras she could wear with high-waisted jeans, and under a bomber, she figures. Win-Win, really.
Rogue never cared about fancy underwear, but she does now, and kinda loves and owes Emma for it. She decides she most certainly loves her when, not much later, she’s delivered a gift, a pale pink box with black, smooth-textured lettering, wrapped up in the signature black silk bow,and finds the ridiculously expensive three-piece-set she had spotted at the store that had immediately put a special someone’s eyes at the forefront of her mind.
That last set DOES glint red in the light up close and personal and looks killer with high-waisted black trousers and a structured blazer.
💖today’s haul, I’m adding how I lifted things plus prices now!💖
Mitch White “The End of Protests, A New Playbook For Revolution” $25.00
lifted my first book at indigo/chapters I just walked into Starbucks which is attached to it, sat down and pretended it was mine bought a drink read a couple pages and put it in my purse then left.
Calvin Klein Underwear $24.00 x3
Free People Embroidered Lace Triangle Bra $55.00
T-Shirt Bra $50.00
Canadian Bult T-Shirt $29.00
Always Latte Shirt $23.70
Comme Ci Ca Comme Shirt $30.00
fave place to lift because no one bothers me and the lady at the changing room doesn’t count or is always on break. I got a bulky jacket and hung the bras and underwear inside hiding it from view making it look like I only have one item. Used same method with the shirts just removed them from the hangers and tucked them inside the jacket.
“Red” Take out and chill hat $17.50
Pint Green Bra and Undie set (together) $30.00
“Red” Lace Bra $17.50
Nude Lace bra $17.50
Tucked the bras and undies into the red hat, found a blind spot and put them in my purse… F21 was super busy and a whole lot of SA were at the changing room area so I couldn’t hide them in a sweater/jacket like I normally do. For the Onesie and long dress I went to a corner which faced away from the cameras and tucked it in my purse with the perfume. I went to the bathroom to organized everything and I heard someone come in with heavy boots and a radio talking to someone. I came out panicking but it was just the cleaning lady.
The night was just like any other work night. Temari was backstage, waiting for her dance to be announced. Her costume was red and gold, a simple embroidered bra and a long bellydancing skirt with slits up either leg.
She was just putting the veil on the lower half of her face when The Desert Rose was at last called to the stage, and just as she did every other night, she made her way to the curtain to dance.