One of the things that I love most about lingerie is the fantasy aspect of it. I sigh over the long floofy robes and the gloves and the stockings and the chemises not because I wear them every day, but because they so perfectly capture the sense of play and secret identity lingerie can offer us. When you’re both private by nature and possessed of a rich fantasy life, spectacular lingerie is an incredibly delightful way to channel those fantasies.
Julia Lambert and I occasionally have long, carefully thought-out, in-depth conversations about what to do if we win the lottery. Settling debts and charitable donations come first, financial security comes second, and personal indulgences come third. While the details of each category change, there’s one item that almost always appears in our personal indulgence columns: a full set of Agent Provocateur silk ruffle bedding.
I mean, look at this stuff:
It’s absurd. No one needs a giant bed swathed in silk. I’m told silk pillowcases are really good for your skin and hair, but this is nonsensical, with prices to match. If I ever walked into my bedroom and saw a bed like this I’d probably turn red and giggle for a while, before leaping onto it in delight.
This will go so nicely with all of the girly nonsense I will have when I one day acquire Amy Adams’ wardrobe and sets from Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.
Oh, and it’s only available in King and Superking sizes, because of course.
If I had to think of the most decadent, disgustingly self-indulgent, wildly unnecessary thing to buy myself, this would be it. You can therefore imagine my horror when I logged onto the AP website last night while writing this post to discover that the bedding section had disappeared.
I was able to find the landing screen, but couldn’t navigate to the individual items. I turned to the cats in despair, and they were predictably unsupportive.
Agent Provocateur. You cannot do this to me. Sure, if I remember correctly, a single pillowcase was like $325, which is approximately ten times what I pay for my other sheet sets, but I needed to know that this stuff would be there, waiting for me, in case I could ever afford it. And a new bed that it would fit on. And an apartment big enough to hold said bed.
I have never been so disappointed to lose something I was never going to buy in a million years. Please, please internet: please tell me this hasn’t been discontinued. I know it’s only a dream, but oh, what a magnificent one.