Disrobe, Darling. Show
Me Your Skivvies
Definition of Skivvies
US, informal: underwear.
skivvy can also mean:
mainly British often derogatory:
a servant, esp. a female, who does
menial work of all kinds; drudge
take off your clothes
“I slipped into his bathroom to disrobe”
The swelter of summer can tempt even
the most modest among us to strip down
to our skivvies.
Origin and Etymology of skivvies
from Skivvies, former trademark.
Sex & Subtlety
A lifestyle and apparel brand has launched
a lingerie collection just for brides.
The new line, titled Bridal Skivvies, has
topped our list of favorite new things.
Who doesn’t love pretty undergarments? Especially when
you’re planning for a romantic honeymoon getaway!
It’s becoming more and more
popular, with photo shoots
and boudoir albums as excellent
wedding day gifts for your future husband.
If you’re interested in surprising your partner
with a sexy yet tasteful gift, then a boudoir
photo shoot might be for you.
Boudoir photographers are masters of creating elegant,
sensual and classy images of you in your lingerie,
Come into My Boudoir
Boudoir is a French word meaning a lady’s
private dressing room or bedroom.
In photography, boudoir refers to a style
in which women pose for photographs partially
clothed or in lingerie.
The photos are tasteful and nudity is typically
implied rather than explicit.
They are sensual and sexy
as well as classy and elegant.
Word Origin & History
1835 (but not in widespread use until 1852),
from French lingerie “things made of linen,”
also “laundry room, linen shop” (15c.),
from Old French linge “linen” (12c.),
from Latin lineus (adj.) “of linen,”
from linum “flax, linen” (see linen).
Originally introduced in English as
a euphemism for scandalous under-linen.
Who do you wear Lingerie for?
My body is moving. I’m painting strokes
with my hips and cutting the air with my arms.
I’m swaying to music that has soaked into
my soul, and I am so at home.
I look at my hands and I know they
belong to me. My toes on this ground are mine.
I wear my best black slip and watch myself
in the mirror propped against the wall.
I’m wearing the lacy white bra, and I feel
like a slice of coconut cake.
I’m strongest when I feel the most delicate.
I’m empowered when I feel the most beautiful.
The Masculine Presence
He watches me move and breath.
He reaches out his fingers and wraps His hands around my waist.
You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, he tells me.
I pretend to block out the noise and remind myself
I’m divine without His presence, without male approval
But is it true? Can I be sexy without His presence?
Can I be sexy without the male gaze?
Is my lingerie-rooted empowerment a coping
mechanism for this dreadful cycle of capitalist,
consumerist misogyny which blocks any chance
for natural, untainted empowerment?