Years ago my friend told me about “the queen’s bra fitters” and how they do free fittings and we had to go. I was like, yeah sure, but they’ll be posh scary people and they’ll judge me for my old manky bras and my size. But eventually the old manky bras got to the point where there was only one of them left, and it was pretty dead, and I desperately needed a new one. The last time I’d been fitted was when I was an anorexic teenager, and now I’m an overweight adult, so I knew the size would have changed dramatically but I had no idea what my new one might be.
Off we went to Rigby & Peller, bolstered by the news that they’d lost their royal warrant for writing a book in which they gave away a bit too much information about the queen’s boobs, so they must be a little bit rebellious. Continue reading “Rigby & Peller London, aka The Bra Fairies”