Recently I braved the elements and went into stores in the hunt for a bra. You know the kind of trip. The kind where you feel like you're heading into battle, expecting the worst but hoping for a win.
I tried on 17 bras to find just 1 that kind of worked. It was my "sister size" - a nice marketing-friendly way of saying it's the wrong size.
But thanks to an attentive retail assistant, I actually managed to leave with my true size. If she hadn't checked in with me while I was in the fitting room, I would never have discovered that my true size was available as it wasn't on display.
I probably still would’ve made a purchase, but it would’ve been the wrong fit long term. The band would stretch out, the support would drop away quickly, and I’d eventually end up thinking the bra itself was the problem, not the size. So that tiny interaction changed the outcome completely.
That shopping trip really drove home something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: developing a great bra is only half the battle. The other half is actually connecting that bra with the right customer, in the right size, with the right guidance. And honestly, I think that system is broken.
The most common response to my recent social media posts about bra shopping was: “Me too.”
Not just frustration about fit, but frustration about the entire process. Leaving stores empty handed, trying endless sizes, ordering online out of desperation, settling for “good enough” because the search becomes exhausting.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve normalised the idea that women should practically need a PhD in bra fitting to find one that works for them.
A good bra fitter knows every bra on the shop floor inside and out. Which styles run firm, which suit fuller tissue, which work for close-set breasts, which wires suit broad breast roots, which collections include the niche sizes. But that level of knowledge is incredibly inconsistent in Australian retail.
In my experience of department store shopping, the quality of the fitting experience depends enormously on who happens to be rostered on that day. The highly experienced fitter is often only there on weekends, which is great if you can casually spend your Saturday trying on bras uninterrupted. Less ideal if you’re squeezing shopping into school hours because taking two young kids bra shopping sounds like a form of psychological warfare.
And to be fair to retail assistants, they’re often working across huge floors with dozens of brands, inconsistent stock depth and very little formal technical training. That’s not really setting anyone up to succeed.
Alternately, we can go to independent boutiques where we're much more likely to get an experienced bra fitter and a great bra, but with the knowledge that we will dry swallow while paying at the checkout for 2 European bras totalling in excess of $200.
Apparently size 8 backs are considered niche in bras for some reason.
Which is baffling, because size 6 and 8 are completely normal in apparel. Yet the garment that literally has to anchor to your body to function somehow doesn’t need the same level of size consideration.
I hear it all the time: “But there’s so much choice in smaller sizes.”
Sure, if you’re a 12B. But what if you’re an 8D? (For the record, that’s the sister size of a 12B. Same cup volume, different proportions. Yet somehow one is considered mainstream and the other niche.)
I recently looked at a brand aimed at teenagers thinking surely they’d cater to smaller back sizes. They did have an 8D. In one bra. A strapless bra.
And then we wonder why so many women are wearing the wrong size... The mind boggles.
When people can’t find help in store, they turn to online shopping. But online shopping only really works when customers already understand their size, shape and preferences, and even then it’s still a gamble.
I tried on 17 bras in person to find 1 that worked. Imagine ordering those online, returning 16, then exchanging the final one for another size because it was close… but not quite right. Most people would just keep it to avoid the pain of the returns process.
Some brands do an excellent job with online fit guidance, but ultimately there’s only so much a tape measure can tell you. Fit is about proportions, wire shape, tissue distribution, support needs and personal preference. Experienced fitters know this too, which is why many eventually stop relying on measurements alone. The tape measure is only one piece of the puzzle.
And then there’s the part I don’t think we talk about enough.
What happens to all the bras that almost fit?
The ones that dig slightly, shift slightly, gape slightly, flatten slightly, annoy you slightly.
They end up unworn in the back of drawers. And then, eventually, landfill.
Most op shops won’t accept underwear, even unworn. Lingerie recycling infrastructure is non-existent - let's be real, we can barely recycle soft plastics in Australia. So realistically, the best thing we can do is wear bras for as long as possible before they eventually reach end of life.
But for that to happen, two things need to align: the bra itself needs to be excellent, and it needs to reach the right person in the right size.
And honestly, I don’t think women are asking for perfection. Most are simply looking for products that feel considered, collections that acknowledge bodies aren’t all built to the same template, and staff who are engaged enough to help them navigate the options in front of them.
The irony is the reason I left with a bra that day wasn’t because the store had revolutionary technology or endless stock. It was because someone paid attention. Someone understood the product well enough to make a suggestion instead of settling for “close enough”.
That’s the part the industry shouldn’t lose sight of.
Because a beautifully developed bra that never reaches the right body is still a failed product.
