Man, I look like a creep.
I've been stalking the lingerie section of Nordstrom in the Galleria for an hour. Thirty minutes ago, I looked like a dude searching for lingerie in the middle of the afternoon. That's sketchy enough. Now I look like a dude who likes to stare at lingerie by himself at a mall. Way sketchy.
What the ladies who're giving me dirty looks don't understand is that I'm waiting for British swimsuit-model-cum-actress Caprice Bourret. You might recognize her from the countless photo shoots she's done for Maxim, GQ and the like. Or you may have seen her on the recent reality show The Surreal Life, where she starred opposite other former celebs (that's being generous). Originally from Hacienda Heights, California, she moved to London after high school. Although it was the Kate Moss era, and she stood out with her boobs and curves, Caprice scored international modeling gigs in no time. She's done theater (Rent and The Vagina Monologues) and some film, and now she's pushing her lingerie line, By Caprice. She's supposed to show me how to shop for lingerie today, but she's an hour late. When she finally floats up the escalator wearing a long flowing skirt and a top that exposes her midriff, all is forgiven. Soon we're chatting about modeling, showbiz and her balcony bra, named for their cups that, well, look like balconies.
What's it like posing in nearly nothing for a living? "Well, it's a bit like a gynecologist, really. You just get used to it. It doesn't do anything for you. It's just a job." (That's the first photo shoot-gynecologist comparison I've ever heard.) Who would win in a catfight: fellow Brit Kate Beckinsale in Underworld, or Caprice in her underwear? "Well, of course I'm gonna say me, duh. I'm not gonna say Kate's gonna kick my bum!" (Heh, she said "bum.") What does she look for in a date? Lemme guess: rich, handsome and rich? "No!" she says with a laugh. "I'm rich already! I'm just looking for a nice guy who can make me laugh." (Poor comedians, take note.) Soon it's on to my much-anticipated lingerie shopping lesson.
"Americans have gi-normous breasts!" she exclaims as she walks me through her unmentionables. "So, get your girlfriend's or wife's bra and her knickers," she advises. (Heh, she said "knickers.") Okay, got it. "Look at the sizes," she continues. "Then go to the Caprice lingerie section at the store and buy a pair!" Her sales pitch is accented with a toss of her long blond locks and a giggle.
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That's it. Her big lesson and pitch. So what did I learn? Ladies, if you need anything -- anything at all, ever -- from your guy, just mention "knickers" and your "bum." You'll get whatever you want.