The evolution of lingerie
From Howe Hall to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, lingerie is no longer just underwear — it’s clothing.
Every weekend, when we’re getting ready for the bar, my roommate makes the same offer: a black top from her closet. The top has become so infamous, we’ve given it a name.
She pulls it from the closet, the thin straps drape over the hanger. Held up, I can see the other side of her bedroom through the tulle, obscured only by two black triangles I imagine are supposed to cover my chest.
It’s the lingerie top.
I’ve tried it on more than once. It fits, and I look good in it. But every weekend, for the last three years, I’ve lovingly responded with, “I can’t wear that in public.”
She always says it looks so cute on me, and that I have the boobs for it. I almost believe her, until the hesitation creeps in. I imagine my mom’s face, decide it’s too much for a Halifax bar and worry about looking too “slutty.” Then I catch myself. What am I saying? Nothing is stopping me from wearing this out.
Our generation has a complicated relationship with lingerie. We hate bras, can’t afford matching sets and have little interest in dressing to please men. Instead, we’ve reclaimed lingerie on our own terms, turning it into a fashion trend and, in the process, a choice.
On Quinpool Road, across from the Atlantic Superstore, a storefront offers a glimpse into where these choices are made. Inside, Clem May manages Pleasures N’ Treasures, a sex and lingerie shop just a 10-minute walk from campus.
“It used to be that when you put on lingerie, it was for a special occasion — to be sexy and dress up,” May says. “Now, you can wear it to the bar as a top or over your clothes. Corsets are everywhere. It’s so fun and casual.”
Suddenly, everyone is wearing slip dresses from the Value Village lingerie rack, corsets in every colour brighten Dalhousie University’s dorms and bralettes are impossible to miss at music festivals.
This isn’t just a student trend. In September 2025, Hailey Bieber, Zoë Kravitz, Charli xcx and Rosé stepped out in coordinated lingerie looks at a Saint Laurent fashion show in Paris. Lingerie-inspired looks from Lorde, Sabrina Carpenter and Kylie Jenner dominated the 2025 Met Gala. From Howe Hall to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, lingerie is no longer just underwear — it’s clothing.
Lingerie isn’t dead, but like our fashion choices, it’s evolved into another expression of Gen Z’s stubborn insistence on setting the agenda.
In November, Yahoo reported that British lingerie brand Dora Larsen experienced a 10 per cent drop in bra sales among 18 to 24-year-olds over the last two years. Yet, just last month, my friend showed up to a man’s house in a trench coat — with nothing underneath but a garter belt and matching set — in minus 20 degree weather. But God forbid she be caught dead in an underwire bra on a normal day.
May says students approach lingerie shopping with a different mindset than older adults.
“With older customers, they’re like, ‘This is what my partner likes. This is what I’m getting,’” May says. “Younger customers will say, ‘He likes this, but I don’t really care.’”
This makes it clear: lingerie is no longer about who sees it, but who wears it. Go braless. Don a corset at the bar. Buy the outrageous matching set. Or, wear nothing at all.
Next time my roommate offers, maybe I’ll finally say “yes” to the lingerie top. Either way, in our generation, the choice is mine.
