Doh! This post from Sadie of Jezebel is what prompted me to render my own opinions about the importance of getting fitted for bras instead of winging it. So I should have posted it first.

The point, Sadies says, is that…

...apparently men are so crap at buying underwear for the dames in their lives that London’s John Lewis store has set up a “lingerie academy” to prevent the purchase of Pussycat Dolls-esque monstrosities in random sizes. But seriously, is it really that hard? Apparently so!

According to the academy’s mastermind, Maria Walker, men’s problems fall into a few categories: buying for themselves rather than their recipients; cluelessness as to size; and generally being intimidated by the setup of the creepily-named “Intimates” departments and Victoria’s Secret bordellos, and the fear of looking pervy. Then too, the mechanics of fit and hoist, or underwire and cuppage, are a language that’s mysterious even to women.

...

...in a panic, guys go with what they’ve been told is “sexy,” almost never what we’d choose. Think red, black, thongs, and a lot of teddies.

...

Rather than guessing at sizes (which I can tell you from my time in retail, men never know even if they think they do) the academy recs that guys get camisoles and panties and stay completely away from thongs, however much they want them. They also have to coax some guys out of the weird virgin/whore complex that presupposes that racy lingerie suggests “mistress.” I would personally add to this: if there is any danger of receiving lingerie, ever, beat into the buyer’s brain the brand you wear: it’s so hard to find stuff that works with the vagaries of individual breasts there’s no point taking a chance on a line that cuts small through the back (ahem, Elle MacPherson) or inconsistently in the cup (yes, looking at you, Gap Body.)

She said it here.

The few times I’ve bought anything like lingerie for someone else I’ve tended towards clothing that I’d want to wear. In the sense that I thought it would be comfortable to wear (although see “continue reading…” below.) The lingerie I like most, on me or anyone else, is “nothing” so I’m not exactly the best person to ask about what looks best. But perhaps because I prefer nothing I think I’m pretty tuned in to what will or won’t feel nice for the wearer.

But anyway, while I’m sure there are some men who can do a pretty good job of picking out clothes for their partners I’m… pretty sure that, regardless of taste, or eye for color, when it comes to items where fit is really important it’s probably best to leave those choices up to the to-be-fitted individual. Not to say you can’t do it at all, just maybe bring the actual person with you when you go.

Oh dear, I may be no fun at all but this is a no-brainer to answer. I actually saw a pair of edible panties at a “bachelor” party a long time ago and can you say “fruit leather?” In other words not even boring!

No panties, on the other hand, are just bogglingly nice! Not so much in the classic/cliché sense of “nothing up my sleeve skirt” effect, although that’s nice. What I’m thinking more about is more like no panties in bed when we’re half asleep and spooning together. I know the middle of July isn’t the best time to think about it in the Northern hemisphere, but those of you at the antipodes might appreciate that I can warm up more than my side of the bed and covers. No panties under, say, yoga pants is also a nice, especially when it’s not a surprise because we got dressed together and we’re only dressed and downstairs at all because that’s where the kitchen is and we both know that as soon as coffee’s ready we’ll quickly drift back up stairs, a trail of clothes and maybe morning newspaper sections on the stairs behind us.

Actually the one nice thing about edible undies, I suppose, is that they’re easy to tear off Last-Tango-In-Paris style. Though to be honest there’s a trick to tearing off regular panties, assuming they’re soft and old enough to be that kind of expendable. Although there have to be 10,000 other perfectly enjoyable ways to take real panties off.

And then there’s the question of what you’d rather find under a nice pair of jeans. There’s also the lexical quandary of describing how exactly it could be delightful rather than a disappointment to find nothing under my jeans. :-)

So through a Technorati link I discovered Rachel Kramer Bussel’s got a cross-dressing erotica blog. Although I tried cross-dressing once for a HNT photo I didn’t get enough of a rise either for myself or from readers to bother trying it again. (Note: just because it doesn’t get my motor running doesn’t mean I don’t totally get that it really revs other people up.)

But anyway, I noticed that Vixen of Secrets of a Blue-Eyed Vixen showed up in her partner’s button-down shirt for today’s HNT, and between that and finding Rachel’s blog immediately afterwards I got the cross-dressing epiphany that a woman in a man’s shirt is, like, the hottest kind of lingerie you can get. Mmm. Forget untying bows and laces, how about unbuttoning buttons one by one!?!?

Men’s shirts on women. Manly, yes, but I like it too! :-)