A letter from a reader

At 68, I had not worn a plain T-shirt in ten years. Here is what was underneath the problem

There are things a woman of 68 does not expect to be asked over a row of runner beans, and what she has on under her T-shirt is one of them. Three different women asked me exactly that on Saturday. So I am going to answer it once, here, properly, and then I am never going to mention my underwear on the internet again. My daughter has been warned.

First, the confession. I stopped wearing plain T-shirts about ten years ago. Not because I went off them. Because every plain fitted top showed the whole business underneath, the seams, the lace edge, the line of the wire, the hooks at the back, and I got tired of checking myself in the hall mirror before I went out and going back upstairs to change.

Something plain that shows everything underneath, or something busy that hides it. Those were the options, and I chose busy for a decade.

Nobody decides to hide in prints. It happens because the underwear shops sell you seams and wires and lace and call it support, and then the top has to cover for all of it. I do not blame any woman doing the same. I was one until June.

Then Brenda wore a white T-shirt to the allotment

Brenda from the next plot down turned up in June in a plain white T-shirt, fitted, and there was nothing to see. No lines, no ridge, no lace peeping, no hooks showing through at the back when she bent for the hose. I stared longer than was polite, and then I asked. She said, seamless, no wire, goes on over your head, and she said the name.

It is called the Annabel, from Manchester Boutique, a small British boutique that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now. I am careful with money and I will not pretend otherwise, but the summer sale was on, and I ordered the beige that evening, fully expecting to find the catch.

I have not found the catch.

What happened at the hall mirror

I put it on over my head like a vest, put a plain white T-shirt over the top, and went to the hall mirror out of ten years of habit.

There was nothing to see. I went to the allotment in it. Three different women asked, over the beans, what I had done differently. And Sylvia said, well, I never, which from Sylvia is practically a medal.

Here is why it works, as far as I can tell. There are no seams to show, no wire to make a line, no hooks to show through at the back, and no lace to peep at the neck. It is a smooth soft cup and a wide soft band, and that is all, so there is simply nothing for a plain top to give away.

Three things worth knowing

One. Nothing shows through. No seams, no wire, no hooks, no lace. A plain white T-shirt has been out of the house three days this week and nobody has said a word, which is exactly what I want from underwear.

Two. It goes on over your head. No fastening at all. Nothing to reach round the back for, and nothing digging into your back by four o’clock. It is comfortable enough that I have forgotten I had it on, twice.

Three. Eight colours, honest sizes. Beige, caramel, black, brown, pink, green, blue and white, from an 8/10 to an 18/20. I have the beige and I am going back for the black, because a plain black top has just come back into my life as well.

About the price

I will be plain about this bit, because the price is what made me suspicious.

It is £19.95. It was £40.00.

Half price is usually where I start asking what is wrong with something. I have found nothing wrong with it. It is a small boutique selling direct, no department store taking its slice in the middle, and a summer sale on to shift the season’s stock. That is the whole mystery.

And I do not trust perfect scores, so I read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars, which sounded like real people rather than robots, so I read on. One woman had written, “No wire, no hooks, nothing showing under a T-shirt. I bought the beige and went straight back for the black.” That settled it.

If you were stood at my kitchen table

If you were stood at my kitchen table with a brew and you asked me straight, this is what I would say.

If you have been hiding in prints because plain tops show too much, the problem was never the tops. It was underneath, and it costs less than a decent roast to fix. Buy the beige first, then decide about the black. You will decide about the black.

The sale is on and the beige goes first. Once the summer stock has gone it is gone until next year. Stop dithering and go and look.

I have worn a plain white T-shirt three days this week. Nobody has said a word, which is the point.

Pat