From the silk that covers them, to the sleek curve they provide. Bones are my life. People come in all shapes and sizes, and I help add a little spice to their closet. You’d be surprised how many men come into my shop as well. They always come in all shy, but once I put their new corset on, they just love the new look. So much slimmer than they were before. And men just love them as vests.
Both sexes always tell me how comfortable my corsets are. They ask how I make them. I never indulge of course because it’s been a “family secret.” My mother learned how to make corsets from her father and so on. It was rather odd actually, around the same time as Jack the Ripper, my family’s business began to boom. Everyone just loved how smooth the sides were and springy. We always used the best bones and the best fabric money could buy. One wrong stitch and the whole piece was gone. Useless. We took pride in our work.
My mother died, and around then I had to learn how to get the bones for the insides. Such beautiful pieces. I had to find just the right ones. For the men, I like to pick bigger ones because I think they will work better, but for the women, they need just the right touch. They usually have to be slightly skinny, but tall. Once you find the perfect set, snap, and it’s done.
All of the richest people adorn our corsets. Even some family of the police, but they won’t notice. No one does. The thump in the night. The loss of someone off the streets. The easy ones to pick off the bone. If only they knew what they were wearing, why the price was so high. You’re paying for them. You’re paying for the most beautifully stitched bones.