A special underwear-centric post for Katherine Fosso
No strange looks, please, it's just a survey. A highly amusing and potentially scandalous survey (are you scandalized yet?). This survey is the original creation of gienahclarette and is being used at her express invitation.
I would love to write this about Noelle, the character whose story I'm in the middle of right now, but my knowledge of undergarments in late-18th century France isn't quite up to snuff, and modern underwear seems more fun anyway. Maybe sometime later I'll go back and figure out what Noelle's underwear would realistically look like, but for now I'm going to answer these survey questions from the point of view of Holly Carmichael, the 14-year-old co-protagonist of my Planned Fantasy Trilogy (TM).
Part 1: The Basics
What does your character’s underwear look like?
Probably pretty plain or ordinary. Holly is most definitely not the sort of girl who thinks that pretty underwear is necessary. No, she buys for comfort and for fit. I'm thinking traditional cotton panties and simple underwire bras (I think this is the first time I have ever consciously wondered about the bra size of one of my fictional characters...she's probably around a 34B in case you were curious). Function over form would be her motto.
Is there any lace/print/embroidery/decoration?
Most likely not. Again, she's slightly conservative when it comes to things like this. Plus, she's fourteen, an age at which no one but you, your mother, and the girls in the PE locker room should see your underwear. However, I have this strong image of her owning those "days of the week" panties as a small girl and being frustrated that her mother didn't have the correct days washed in time for her to wear them. She would certainly refuse to wear the wrong day, because what was the point of wearing them if they weren't going to be accurate? As for bras, she'd probably complain that lace itches and no one's going to see it, anyway, so what's the point of it being pretty?
What color(s)?
She has those mixed-color underwear, but all in respectable/conservative shades, like white/light gray/dark gray. Basically monochromatic panties. As for bras, probably mostly white, with a nicer black one for fancy black shirts and maybe--maybe--a skin-colored one (if she owns it, she never really wears it).
Does it serve any special function, ie: flannel long-johns for the winter?
Holly is possibly athletic enough that she owns a sports bra or two...in fact I imagine she plays/played soccer (because no other sports are that awesome). Also she might be a runner, but short-distance only. Also, though technically this is hosiery rather than lingerie, she probably has a few pairs of tights/leggings to wear under skirts, on the rare occasions when she is forced to wear skirts. Not really the girlish one, our Holly (though that doesn't mean she's not pretty--she's just not sure she wants anyone else to know that).
Part 2: Getting a Little Creeper
Where does your character get this underwear from?
The most venerable lingerie department at Mervyn's. Like I said, she really doesn't care too much.
Does your character have a favorite in their underwear drawer (if they have more than one set)? If so, then why?
I'm not sure Holly ever really thinks about her underwear. Hell, I'm not sure I ever think about my underwear. Favorites? We're just glad to be clothed.
Are there any situations where they would go commando?
Heh, that would be a no. Unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary. But I find it hard to imagine a situation in which sensible, plan-ahead Holly would not have underwear about her.
How many people, aside from your character, see your character’s underwear on a regular basis?
Her mother, when doing laundry; her younger sister, when barging into Holly's room unannounced; the girls in her row in the PE locker room.
Describe your character’s underwear shopping process (if any).
Her underwear comes in little plastic packages: she knows her size and her mom just buys her more when her old ones get worn out. She wishes that bra shopping would be that easy, and there's nothing she hates quite as much as finding new bras when her old ones are starting to show some wear and tear.
Part 3: MOAR
Does your character have any underwear prejudices?
-Against certain types of underwear in general?
-Against people who wear a certain type?
-Anything else, really. D=
Holly's motto is comfort over style, so she doesn't understand girls who wear completely nonfunctional underwear. Likewise, she does not get the point of "sexy" panties/bras and thinks that the girl next to her in the PE locker room who's always got on these skimpy lacy things is totally absurd--again, what is the point of such garments? (A note here--someday in the future, I am sure Holly will discover the point of such garments for herself. But at the moment--fourteen! High school freshman! Still innocent!)
How does your character organize their undergarments?
Probably organizes everything by color, in a drawer, with lightest colors on top and darkest on the bottom.
Who is their underwear soul-twin? In your own universe, or in another?
Ehrm...well..*cough*probablymeactually*cough*...
Is your character embarrassed by something as scandalous (SCANDALOUS) as undergarment discussion?
Depends on the line the discussion takes. If it's "oh won't my boyfriend like *this* new underwear?" discussion then she's probably embarrassed, because she wouldn't actually know what to say to such a comment. But if for some reason a person she knew asked her what kind of underwear she wore in a non-creeper sort of way she'd probably answer honestly and make some flippant remarks about how she believes in sensible, functional undergarments and lace is for idiots.
Part 4: The Fun Part
Here’s some underwear-centric ideas for blurbs or doodles that might be fun to try. You must do at least one. Do it now! You draw-types know you want to draw your characters in heroic poses in nothing but their skivvies.
1. Your character passes by the store window, and notices that the store is a purveyor of fine skivvies. For some reason or another, they decide to go ahead and give it a look. Inside, they spot some underwear that they would never have considered wearing before. Are they tempted to try it on?
"Oooh, look at those!" Meghan squealed, pulling her sister's hand so that Holly was jerked suddenly away from admiring an iPhone display outside the Apple store to looking at--what was she looking at? Mannequins in the window of the store across the way, the white of the plastic skin showing in far too many places for the garments they were wearing to be counted as clothing. As far as Holly could tell, her younger sister was pointing and giggling at the central display, which featured a female mannequin wearing some strategically-placed hot pink lace, and little else.
No, I take that back, she thought upon a reexamination. She's got her matching heels. How could I have ignored them?
"Come on, Holly, let's go in!" Meghan grinned at her devilishly. She knew that Holly would rather die than step into--what store was it?
Holly looked up and saw a "Victoria's Secret" sign. Figures. She spent half a moment pondering the placement of this shop directly across from the Apple store, currently swarming with eager tech nerds, but her sister's insistent grasp pulled her back to the moment. "We are not going in there," she said, struggling to convey as much finality as possible in her tone. "What does a twelve-year-old need at Victoria's Secret?"
"Panties," Meghan replied promptly. "They've got these really comfy ones--"
I cannot believe this, Holly thought, as she half-listened to her sister enumerate the virtues of overpriced and doubtlessly revealing underwear. "Mom goes in with me," Meghan concluded. "She got me some stuff here a few months ago 'cause it fit well. Come on, Holly, they're having a sale."
Holly sighed as her sister looked up at her, blue eyes sorrowful, lower lip puffed out slightly in a pout. Meghan begged too well. She knew how to argue to Holly's weak spots--she would never pass up a sale, or clearance, or bargain deal. She was like her mom that way.
Before she could say anything, Meghan smiled and said, "I know what I want and it'll be quick," and left her sister standing on her own outside of Vicky's. Holly took a deep breath, let it out, and then did the unthinkable: she followed her sister into the store.
Once inside, she was assailed by bright colors, impractical laces, and a whiff of perfume that immediately began playing upon her allergies. Meghan wasn't the only one who'd seen the "SALE" signs outside; it looked like half the female population past puberty had packed themselves into this one small store, and its members were now fighting each other over undergarments so delicate that they would snap in the slightest tug-of-war. Meghan had skipped ahead of her, weaving her way expertly through the crowds and out of sight, until Holly stood completely alone in the midst of the chaos.
Resigned to surviving this madhouse for no longer than the five minutes it would take for her to start sneezing from the perfumed air, Holly did her best to slink into a corner where she could hide for that interval of time without being trampled. She walked along behind the window display--there was even less hot pink lace on the back of the mannequin than on the front--and was almost to the corner when she saw it. There, emerging from a tabletop display like a headless Venus de Milo, perched a mannequin clad in sheer black silk panties and a matching bra. Like everything else in the store, the garments left little to the imagination, but with a sudden jolt Holly realized that she wanted them. The fabric looked so smooth, would feel so good against bare skin. No one would need to know she was wearing them; it wasn't like she went around showcasing her underwear. Quite to her dismay, Holly found herself reaching out a hand to touch the display--
"Holly?"
She whipped around at the sound of her name and almost ran into one of the last people on earth she wanted to see at this moment. "Mrs. Turner," she said, slightly out of breath. "Hi." She tried her hardest to look like she hadn't just encountered her best friend's mom while shopping for scandalous underwear. "I'm here with Meghan," she said, then kicked herself--what would Mrs. Turner think of Holly's mom if she let her twelve-year-old shop here? "I mean," she said, "there was a sale..." She trailed off lamely. Dammit, she was just digging the hole deeper.
Mrs. Turner smiled. "That's why I'm here," she said. "Half the stuff's ridiculous, but if you sift through the other half you sometimes find something decent."
"Mmhmm," Holly mumbled, not quite capable of words. Thankfully, Meghan chose that moment to walk over to her sister, striped pink bag in hand. With an inward sigh of relief, Holly said, "I'll see you around later."
"Weren't you going to get something for yourself?" And to Holly's utter mortification, Mrs. Turner looked pointedly at the black silk Holly had been so inexplicably drawn to.
At this point, Holly decided that the best option was to run.
2. Due to unforeseen and bizarre machinations, two (or more) of your characters are stuck together in nothing but their unmentionables (and perhaps a towel) in a rather sticky (and perhaps dangerous) situation. What happens?
The first think Holly realized when she woke up, before she even opened her eyes, was that she was naked.
This, in itself, would not be a terrible shock for many people. In fact, for some it might be a pleasant sensation. But for Holly, there was nothing pleasurable about it. Instead, her body reacted with a patented "What the hell?" response, her muscles tensing up, her stomach suddenly jittery. What was she doing here?
There was the sheet, at least. A very thin sheet, from the feel of it; she could sense the breeze that pulsed through the room around her. Certainly it would do very little to protect her modesty. The shock of her thought made her open her eyes, only to close them again at the bright light that surrounded her. She clutched the sheet tighter to her, then slowly opened her eyes again, this time waiting for her pupils to gradually become accustomed to the light.
The room was flooded with bright sunlight from a window overhead, left open to the air outside. Well, that explained the breeze. She was lying on her back on a pallet covered with a coarse linen sheet, of a different texture from the one that lay atop her. The pallet was set upon a raised platform, and Holly could see several similar platforms lining the opposite wall. She sighed in relief when she saw that all the ones within her sight were empty, then turned to examine those that presumably lay to either side of her.
"Holly?"
The voice to her left--far too close--was still coarse from sleep, but there was no mistaking Jasen's timbre. Shit, Holly thought as she tried with very little luck to pull her sheet closer--it was stuck on something. "You okay?" she said, shifting to her side and deliberately keeping her body curled away from his direction.
"I think so," he said with a yawn--then, suddenly, "what'd they do with my clothes?!" She heard frantic scramblings as her friend searched for a sheet to draw up over himself.
She felt a pull upon the sheet she was clinging to. Double shit. "Jase, don't--" But it was too late; a final tug and Holly could feel the cool breeze against her skin , a sharp contrast to the embarrassed heat that spread throughout her entire body.
And then, with a mortified "Oh, shit!" she felt the sheet tossed back over her and heard Jasen, completely awake by now, turn over as well. After a moment's pause, filled only by the sound of heavy breathing, he said, "Sorry about that."
Holly raised her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Good one." But her confusion made her voice tremble, and what might have come out as biting sarcasm under other circumstances was little more than a distressed warble. "Any ideas?"
It was an odd sensation, to be able to feel the movement of the bed as he shook his head. Come to think of it, if she focused hard enough she could feel his body heat, meaning he was only inches away from her. Triple and quadruple shit. It took all her effort to focus on his words and not the uncomfortable nearness of his naked person. "The last thing I remember is the storm," Jasen said.
Holly nodded, then realized that, gentleman as he was, he probably had his back to her and couldn't see it. "Me, too," she said. "The last thing I remember is thinking we were dead for sure."
"Who's to say we're not?" Jasen returned.
Holly snorted. "Not quite my idea of heaven."
She felt the bed rumble with his snicker. "Not quite my idea of hell."
TO BE CONTINUED! (maybe)
3. Somehow your character has gotten their laundry mixed up with someone else’s (perhaps even someone they know). What is their reaction? How do they go about returning said items?
I would love to write this about Noelle, the character whose story I'm in the middle of right now, but my knowledge of undergarments in late-18th century France isn't quite up to snuff, and modern underwear seems more fun anyway. Maybe sometime later I'll go back and figure out what Noelle's underwear would realistically look like, but for now I'm going to answer these survey questions from the point of view of Holly Carmichael, the 14-year-old co-protagonist of my Planned Fantasy Trilogy (TM).
Part 1: The Basics
What does your character’s underwear look like?
Probably pretty plain or ordinary. Holly is most definitely not the sort of girl who thinks that pretty underwear is necessary. No, she buys for comfort and for fit. I'm thinking traditional cotton panties and simple underwire bras (I think this is the first time I have ever consciously wondered about the bra size of one of my fictional characters...she's probably around a 34B in case you were curious). Function over form would be her motto.
Is there any lace/print/embroidery/decoration?
Most likely not. Again, she's slightly conservative when it comes to things like this. Plus, she's fourteen, an age at which no one but you, your mother, and the girls in the PE locker room should see your underwear. However, I have this strong image of her owning those "days of the week" panties as a small girl and being frustrated that her mother didn't have the correct days washed in time for her to wear them. She would certainly refuse to wear the wrong day, because what was the point of wearing them if they weren't going to be accurate? As for bras, she'd probably complain that lace itches and no one's going to see it, anyway, so what's the point of it being pretty?
What color(s)?
She has those mixed-color underwear, but all in respectable/conservative shades, like white/light gray/dark gray. Basically monochromatic panties. As for bras, probably mostly white, with a nicer black one for fancy black shirts and maybe--maybe--a skin-colored one (if she owns it, she never really wears it).
Does it serve any special function, ie: flannel long-johns for the winter?
Holly is possibly athletic enough that she owns a sports bra or two...in fact I imagine she plays/played soccer (because no other sports are that awesome). Also she might be a runner, but short-distance only. Also, though technically this is hosiery rather than lingerie, she probably has a few pairs of tights/leggings to wear under skirts, on the rare occasions when she is forced to wear skirts. Not really the girlish one, our Holly (though that doesn't mean she's not pretty--she's just not sure she wants anyone else to know that).
Part 2: Getting a Little Creeper
Where does your character get this underwear from?
The most venerable lingerie department at Mervyn's. Like I said, she really doesn't care too much.
Does your character have a favorite in their underwear drawer (if they have more than one set)? If so, then why?
I'm not sure Holly ever really thinks about her underwear. Hell, I'm not sure I ever think about my underwear. Favorites? We're just glad to be clothed.
Are there any situations where they would go commando?
Heh, that would be a no. Unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary. But I find it hard to imagine a situation in which sensible, plan-ahead Holly would not have underwear about her.
How many people, aside from your character, see your character’s underwear on a regular basis?
Her mother, when doing laundry; her younger sister, when barging into Holly's room unannounced; the girls in her row in the PE locker room.
Describe your character’s underwear shopping process (if any).
Her underwear comes in little plastic packages: she knows her size and her mom just buys her more when her old ones get worn out. She wishes that bra shopping would be that easy, and there's nothing she hates quite as much as finding new bras when her old ones are starting to show some wear and tear.
Part 3: MOAR
Does your character have any underwear prejudices?
-Against certain types of underwear in general?
-Against people who wear a certain type?
-Anything else, really. D=
Holly's motto is comfort over style, so she doesn't understand girls who wear completely nonfunctional underwear. Likewise, she does not get the point of "sexy" panties/bras and thinks that the girl next to her in the PE locker room who's always got on these skimpy lacy things is totally absurd--again, what is the point of such garments? (A note here--someday in the future, I am sure Holly will discover the point of such garments for herself. But at the moment--fourteen! High school freshman! Still innocent!)
How does your character organize their undergarments?
Probably organizes everything by color, in a drawer, with lightest colors on top and darkest on the bottom.
Who is their underwear soul-twin? In your own universe, or in another?
Ehrm...well..*cough*probablymeactually*cough*...
Is your character embarrassed by something as scandalous (SCANDALOUS) as undergarment discussion?
Depends on the line the discussion takes. If it's "oh won't my boyfriend like *this* new underwear?" discussion then she's probably embarrassed, because she wouldn't actually know what to say to such a comment. But if for some reason a person she knew asked her what kind of underwear she wore in a non-creeper sort of way she'd probably answer honestly and make some flippant remarks about how she believes in sensible, functional undergarments and lace is for idiots.
Part 4: The Fun Part
Here’s some underwear-centric ideas for blurbs or doodles that might be fun to try. You must do at least one. Do it now! You draw-types know you want to draw your characters in heroic poses in nothing but their skivvies.
1. Your character passes by the store window, and notices that the store is a purveyor of fine skivvies. For some reason or another, they decide to go ahead and give it a look. Inside, they spot some underwear that they would never have considered wearing before. Are they tempted to try it on?
"Oooh, look at those!" Meghan squealed, pulling her sister's hand so that Holly was jerked suddenly away from admiring an iPhone display outside the Apple store to looking at--what was she looking at? Mannequins in the window of the store across the way, the white of the plastic skin showing in far too many places for the garments they were wearing to be counted as clothing. As far as Holly could tell, her younger sister was pointing and giggling at the central display, which featured a female mannequin wearing some strategically-placed hot pink lace, and little else.
No, I take that back, she thought upon a reexamination. She's got her matching heels. How could I have ignored them?
"Come on, Holly, let's go in!" Meghan grinned at her devilishly. She knew that Holly would rather die than step into--what store was it?
Holly looked up and saw a "Victoria's Secret" sign. Figures. She spent half a moment pondering the placement of this shop directly across from the Apple store, currently swarming with eager tech nerds, but her sister's insistent grasp pulled her back to the moment. "We are not going in there," she said, struggling to convey as much finality as possible in her tone. "What does a twelve-year-old need at Victoria's Secret?"
"Panties," Meghan replied promptly. "They've got these really comfy ones--"
I cannot believe this, Holly thought, as she half-listened to her sister enumerate the virtues of overpriced and doubtlessly revealing underwear. "Mom goes in with me," Meghan concluded. "She got me some stuff here a few months ago 'cause it fit well. Come on, Holly, they're having a sale."
Holly sighed as her sister looked up at her, blue eyes sorrowful, lower lip puffed out slightly in a pout. Meghan begged too well. She knew how to argue to Holly's weak spots--she would never pass up a sale, or clearance, or bargain deal. She was like her mom that way.
Before she could say anything, Meghan smiled and said, "I know what I want and it'll be quick," and left her sister standing on her own outside of Vicky's. Holly took a deep breath, let it out, and then did the unthinkable: she followed her sister into the store.
Once inside, she was assailed by bright colors, impractical laces, and a whiff of perfume that immediately began playing upon her allergies. Meghan wasn't the only one who'd seen the "SALE" signs outside; it looked like half the female population past puberty had packed themselves into this one small store, and its members were now fighting each other over undergarments so delicate that they would snap in the slightest tug-of-war. Meghan had skipped ahead of her, weaving her way expertly through the crowds and out of sight, until Holly stood completely alone in the midst of the chaos.
Resigned to surviving this madhouse for no longer than the five minutes it would take for her to start sneezing from the perfumed air, Holly did her best to slink into a corner where she could hide for that interval of time without being trampled. She walked along behind the window display--there was even less hot pink lace on the back of the mannequin than on the front--and was almost to the corner when she saw it. There, emerging from a tabletop display like a headless Venus de Milo, perched a mannequin clad in sheer black silk panties and a matching bra. Like everything else in the store, the garments left little to the imagination, but with a sudden jolt Holly realized that she wanted them. The fabric looked so smooth, would feel so good against bare skin. No one would need to know she was wearing them; it wasn't like she went around showcasing her underwear. Quite to her dismay, Holly found herself reaching out a hand to touch the display--
"Holly?"
She whipped around at the sound of her name and almost ran into one of the last people on earth she wanted to see at this moment. "Mrs. Turner," she said, slightly out of breath. "Hi." She tried her hardest to look like she hadn't just encountered her best friend's mom while shopping for scandalous underwear. "I'm here with Meghan," she said, then kicked herself--what would Mrs. Turner think of Holly's mom if she let her twelve-year-old shop here? "I mean," she said, "there was a sale..." She trailed off lamely. Dammit, she was just digging the hole deeper.
Mrs. Turner smiled. "That's why I'm here," she said. "Half the stuff's ridiculous, but if you sift through the other half you sometimes find something decent."
"Mmhmm," Holly mumbled, not quite capable of words. Thankfully, Meghan chose that moment to walk over to her sister, striped pink bag in hand. With an inward sigh of relief, Holly said, "I'll see you around later."
"Weren't you going to get something for yourself?" And to Holly's utter mortification, Mrs. Turner looked pointedly at the black silk Holly had been so inexplicably drawn to.
At this point, Holly decided that the best option was to run.
2. Due to unforeseen and bizarre machinations, two (or more) of your characters are stuck together in nothing but their unmentionables (and perhaps a towel) in a rather sticky (and perhaps dangerous) situation. What happens?
The first think Holly realized when she woke up, before she even opened her eyes, was that she was naked.
This, in itself, would not be a terrible shock for many people. In fact, for some it might be a pleasant sensation. But for Holly, there was nothing pleasurable about it. Instead, her body reacted with a patented "What the hell?" response, her muscles tensing up, her stomach suddenly jittery. What was she doing here?
There was the sheet, at least. A very thin sheet, from the feel of it; she could sense the breeze that pulsed through the room around her. Certainly it would do very little to protect her modesty. The shock of her thought made her open her eyes, only to close them again at the bright light that surrounded her. She clutched the sheet tighter to her, then slowly opened her eyes again, this time waiting for her pupils to gradually become accustomed to the light.
The room was flooded with bright sunlight from a window overhead, left open to the air outside. Well, that explained the breeze. She was lying on her back on a pallet covered with a coarse linen sheet, of a different texture from the one that lay atop her. The pallet was set upon a raised platform, and Holly could see several similar platforms lining the opposite wall. She sighed in relief when she saw that all the ones within her sight were empty, then turned to examine those that presumably lay to either side of her.
"Holly?"
The voice to her left--far too close--was still coarse from sleep, but there was no mistaking Jasen's timbre. Shit, Holly thought as she tried with very little luck to pull her sheet closer--it was stuck on something. "You okay?" she said, shifting to her side and deliberately keeping her body curled away from his direction.
"I think so," he said with a yawn--then, suddenly, "what'd they do with my clothes?!" She heard frantic scramblings as her friend searched for a sheet to draw up over himself.
She felt a pull upon the sheet she was clinging to. Double shit. "Jase, don't--" But it was too late; a final tug and Holly could feel the cool breeze against her skin , a sharp contrast to the embarrassed heat that spread throughout her entire body.
And then, with a mortified "Oh, shit!" she felt the sheet tossed back over her and heard Jasen, completely awake by now, turn over as well. After a moment's pause, filled only by the sound of heavy breathing, he said, "Sorry about that."
Holly raised her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Good one." But her confusion made her voice tremble, and what might have come out as biting sarcasm under other circumstances was little more than a distressed warble. "Any ideas?"
It was an odd sensation, to be able to feel the movement of the bed as he shook his head. Come to think of it, if she focused hard enough she could feel his body heat, meaning he was only inches away from her. Triple and quadruple shit. It took all her effort to focus on his words and not the uncomfortable nearness of his naked person. "The last thing I remember is the storm," Jasen said.
Holly nodded, then realized that, gentleman as he was, he probably had his back to her and couldn't see it. "Me, too," she said. "The last thing I remember is thinking we were dead for sure."
"Who's to say we're not?" Jasen returned.
Holly snorted. "Not quite my idea of heaven."
She felt the bed rumble with his snicker. "Not quite my idea of hell."
TO BE CONTINUED! (maybe)
3. Somehow your character has gotten their laundry mixed up with someone else’s (perhaps even someone they know). What is their reaction? How do they go about returning said items?