Unmentionables

This morning, for algorithmic reasons beyond my comprehension, a video of a woman squeezing herself into some sort of elastic tube appeared on my social-media feed. Her message, after the tube had turned into a tourniquet around her waist, was that this garment hurt. Well, duh. Call me old-fashioned, but there are a few things I’d rather not see. Or know, such as what this sign means:

I know it costs $4. I know that the number one and “Pcs” don’t match. I don’t want to know what an “ashtray glass bra” is, much less buy or wear one. In case you’re wondering, this sign was in front of a (strapless) jar.

Nor do I care to discuss this sign:

Is $12 the sale price? Or are the bras even cheaper, now that they’re on sale? Are they made of glass ashtrays? Forget I asked. I don’t want to know.

Moral of this post: The Victorians called underwear “unmentionables” for a reason. A good reason.

4 thoughts on “Unmentionables

  1. William Cooper

    Curiously, the OED indicates that the term unmentionables didn’t definitively refer to panties and undies until 1930. Prior to that, unmentionables denoted men’s breeches. Makes sense to me. I’ve often wondered what these bright white thigh-huggers looked and, pardon me, smelled like after a few days of horseback riding through the marshes and heather fields. (I understand, you don’t want to know.) But what term did the Victorians use for underwear?

    Reply
    1. Geraldine Post author

      You’re right, Bill. It must have been fairly fragrant in those times! I checked, and apparently “knickers” and “combinations” were popular terms for what underwear before “unmentionables” drifted over. Or downward. Wherever!

      Reply
  2. Ellie Presner

    Haha, love your wicked sense of humour, Gerri! My theory is that many signs are abominable attempted translations from Chinese. Ever look at sites selling merchandise such as clothes to us Westerners? The English is unintentionally very amusing!

    Reply
    1. Geraldine Post author

      I’m trying to imagine how many mistakes I’d make if I were trying to write in Chinese (which I don’t know). I make quite a few howlers in languages I do know (Spanish, for example). But I have a lot of fun being “wicked,” as you say!

      Reply

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