*Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, et Soutien-Gorges"

Several years ago, being loose in Paris for a day with some friends, we tried out our hand at shopping primarily on the Rue de Rennes but also on some side streets. There we found one: an example of fabled French lingerie shop, combining risqué with the beautiful; the charming with the practical. How could we resist: why not pick up some nonedible souvenirs that probably should not displayed upon our return to the USA, except by curious customs office functionaries who are detailed to prevent contraband from entering the country. Now this was a place where the mesdames and madamoiselles of fashion, the exotic dancers, and the unfortunate husbands seeking drachenfutter to appease their irate spouses could gravitate to. And three Americans in search of adventure and the Platonic ideal of undies (did the real Plato contemplate such matters?) looked into the den of risqué as well.

We entered into a Temple of Bras. It was a daunting place, befitting being housed in a 19th century building: did we stray to where the showgirls shopped? I'm sure there are the places like that in Paris. Now the proprietress, a formidable middle-aged woman, offered to help. I mumbled something about my sizes, and asked what would she recommend. She said, "Ah, you are Americian; we size you differently here." So she produced a metric tape measure and proceeded to map the topography of Angélique to a greater degree than before! She was charming; she spent a lot of time fussing over us, showing us some examples, assured us that those wispy and lacy confections were the proper mode for us.  "Ces jolies seins!  Cela le montrera correctement."  And it was true: they were both chic and comfortable. We were in undie bliss, and bought several.

Memo to self: Not to let my older sister Jessica see them. She already suspects that I am past wicked and would be shocked enough to forbid her children to see me and to do a flying novena to pray for my immortal soul! It was a hit with shopping.

When we looked back after leaving the store, the building had a partiotic message on the stone facade: Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. And we felt that Soutien-Gorges (Bras) should also be included.

Later on we found Fachon's and got beaucoup chocolate.  It is a notion widely accepted in Paris that bra-shopping and chocolate naturally go together.