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Rompers, Boobs, and Vintage Hats—Oh my!

What is summer without the romper? Though the fashion staple has been around since the 1900's, I did not take an interest in incorporating the one piece into my wardrobe until high school. I found these adorable floral rompers that ad enough space for my thighs—an important distinction when choosing any fashion piece. But, the pleats! Hitting right at my hip, the pleats exaggerated my width and a very unflattering way. From then on, I was anti-romper.



After living in Japan, and seeing more drop-waist or A-line waist rompers sans pleats, I was interested in slowly increasing the amount of rompers I owned. Of course, the practical side of me argues you'll never wear these to work (especially the one I'm showcasing here). Yet, I've managed to wear this silk, baby blue romper from Urban Outfitters at least four times in the last two months.

Full outfit for ultimate viewing.

My only problem with this cute score from Urban's sale rack is the liberties taken with the construction of the bust. There's no support, but it's too low and wide to wear any regular bra. Even in a nude bra, it's very noticeable. I tried bralettes, the romper's lingerie of choice, but nothing worked right with the elegance of the vintage-inspired front buttons of this particular romper.

Ultimately I went braless.

Now, I'll be real with y'all—if you've followed along for this long, you deserve that much. I'm still a little uncomfortable not wearing a bra in public. From the unwanted looks of strange men, to the ugly voice in the back of my head screaming, "slut," I feel a lot of pressure to cover myself up, for lack of a better term. However, I was even more embarrassed when I was younger.

Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra, or that I don't know how to pose?


At 11 years old, I measured a C cup, much to my chagrin, and to the resentment of others around me. I maintained this bra size, which became an identifier amongst the men in my class (I could write a whole novel about the amount of jeers and taunts I got, and I would title it, "Why Men Wish They Had Boobs), until I turned 18. Thanks to the wonderful gynecologist at Wellesley College, I realized that I could actually control the rampant hormones flooding my unsuspecting body. Birth control that targeted the overproduction of hormones that gave me large breasts, extreme cramps, and nausea ultimately reduced my breast cup size to a "B." Taking up running and going vegan for three years to prove my family wrong made me an "A."

Sometimes I miss the ol' gals. Especially in a romper like this; it seems to highlight the effects of gravity on my boobs more than the girth. But, I also have come to realize that no matter what cup size I am or will be, I should wear what makes me happy. And that's what this romper does.
I didn't talk about my love for vintage as much in this piece, but you should know that hat came from my mom's closet, and the purse (a vintage Dooney and Bourke) was a thrift find.

As I walk down the street, I try not to worry about boob slippage, and instead focus on how awesome my vintage hat looks. I've been so caught up in my boobs, I forgot to mention it's vintage Liz Claiborne. Or, sometimes I listen to the clack of my heels. The electric yellow color of these ModCloth suede sandals are so distracting, no one is even looking at my boobs. If I'm being honest, my shoes usually get way more compliments than my boobs.

All in all, a romper, a boat hat, and slip on sandals are not a bad way to spend a summer day, frolicking. And even if in the midst of my frolicking my A cup boobs were to spill slightly out and suggest more than what's in a person's imagination, I would smile. Summer on the East Coast only lasts so long. I refuse to waste it thinking about nip slips.   
The smile I make when I'm wondering if my boobs are showing.
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