Conical bras are flying off the shelves but would YOU wear one - and how do they work?


Well hello, boys! There's no getting away from it. That is exactly the message that my attire is sending out into the world. In fact, I think the only way I could make it clearer is if I were holding a flashing arrow pointing at my chest.



It's not that I'm striding around the November streets exposing the sort of cleavage that made Eva Herzigova so voluptuous that her Wonderbra ad stopped traffic. Far from it, I'm in fact clad in a very demure cashmere sweater.



Before and after: Claire Coleman in her own bra, left, and the attention-grabbing in a cone bra, right

But it's what I'm wearing underneath it that is causing something of a stir. Because following the news that John Lewis has recorded a surge in sales of pointy bras, I am road-testing one of the aforementioned garments and the results are - ahem - interesting, to say the least.



I suppose I should be grateful that my modesty has - to some extent - been preserved.



After all, the concept of a conical bra means one thing and one thing only to anyone who grew up in the Nineties: Madonna and THAT outfit.

The infamous cone bra corset that Jean Paul Gaultier designed for her Blonde Ambition tour became a cultural reference point, long before we realised that, actually, Madonna wasn't the first blonde to popularise this style of lingerie.



Indeed, in the Fifties, Diana Dors and Marilyn Monroe were infamous for their unnaturally cone-shaped bosoms that helped shape that Fifties icon 'the sweater girl'. Flash-forward 50 years and it looks like this particular silhouette is back with a bang.



OUR PICK OF THE COOLEST CONE BRAS: Red & black Lulu bullet bra, £35, whatkatiedid.com (left)

The prettiest and most wearable of all the bras, thanks to a less-extreme shape and with the lace a more feminine touch.

Pink satin bra, £109, Rigby & Peller, 0845 076 5545 (right)

This was meant to be inspired by old-world glamour, but seemed more reminiscent of a Madonna video. The points needed more padding.

Nude soft non-wired bra, £9.75, johnlewis.com (below)

This is the conical bra for women who don’t want to wear a conical bra. It offered very little support.

Helen Spencer, John Lewis's head buyer of lingerie, says: 'I think we're selling more conical bras as customers take influence from designers such as Louise Goldin, Jean Paul Gaultier and Dolce & Gabbana, who have rediscovered the bra as outerwear in their spring/summer 2010 collections.

'Throughout the last century, the trend for feminine pointy-shaped bras experienced a renaissance following times of a toughened economy, marking a return of unabashed femininity as women seek to have more fun with fashion as a form of escapism.'



I don't know about escapism. The Triumph Doreen bra (£23.50, johnlewis.com) that I'm wearing feels an awful lot more restrictive than my usual choice.



This ain't pretty, sexy underwear.



This is the sort of matronly underwear that is probably referred to as 'a foundation garment'; it's no-nonsense, functional stuff that the empire was built on.



And while, in my pencil skirt, rear-seamed stockings and tight sweater, I'd hoped to be channelling a sort of breathy, Jessica-Rabbit-meets-Marilyn-Monroe vibe, I actually feel more like my old history teacher, Mrs Lewis, who had a bosom so impressive that it could silence a full assembly hall in seconds.



(Admittedly, this might have been down to her position in authority and her booming baritone, but I still believe that her formidable bosom, that she always seemed to wear high, proud and pointed - like a pair of attacking bazookas - added in no small way to the effect.)



I might not feel in the slightest bit sexy with this pair of oversized bullets attached to my torso, but there's no escaping the fact that I'm garnering an awful lot more attention than I usually would in a prim sweater and skirt.



Walking through the office, I'm a little bit concerned that I've inadvertently given an entire desk whiplash, after my two-pronged attack prompts a series of double-takes.



'Wow, your boobs walked into the room before you did,' gasps the photographer.



I pop outside to grab a sandwich for lunch and the man serving me seems to have problems focusing on my face, and on my way back to the office a passing builder shouts after me: 'You'll have someone's eye out with them!'



But when I do a quick straw poll, almost everyone agrees that while it's an eye-catching look, it's just not sexy.

'I think it's because when men think about boobs, they think about something soft and round - it's the curves that are sexy,' ponders one man.

'But this is a very aggressive look.'



You can see his point. Who in their right mind wouldn't be terrified with these two instruments of torture bearing down on them?



And to be honest, that decides me. If lingerie doesn't feel good, doesn't look good and men don't find it sexy, frankly what's the point of it?



It might have worked for Marilyn and Jean Paul Gaultier, but despite John Lewis's recent figures piquing my interest, I've got to confess that my interest in these particular twin peaks has, well, peaked.











