BREAST STORIES

Molly Ringwald’s Cleavage

Is putting on lipstick a talent or just another way to think about boobs

Molly Ringwald doesn’t have large breasts, but we were all thinking about them in the 80s.

Straight, gay, alive, dead — she had us all looking down her size-1, rose-colored blouse, wondering how she managed to put on that lipstick with her itty bitty cleavage.

I think her bra had a lipstick holder. That would have been brilliant. Had anyone invented that yet?

Had John Hughes's films taken place in this era of mass consumerism, someone would have definitely invented a bra with a lipstick holder. It would have been on Shark Tank. Judges would have been suspect, but then thrown money at the bra idea — realizing its global appeal.

It would have screamed “You don’t need big breasts to put on your lipstick with your cleavage. You just needed the right bra!” Internationally, A and B cups would have flocked to Victoria’s Secret to buy their lipstick bra.

It would not be a Wacoal bra because Wacoal is for women. Victoria’s Secret is for illusion and pushing up.

Molly Ringwald would have ended up a Victoria’s Secret spokeswoman — instead of making B movies. During runway shows, she would have sat in the center of the runway, in a velvet chair, and applied her lipstick with her “cleavage” while the winged goddess shimmied around her.

Alas, the cleavage lipstick bra idea came too early. We, as a world, were not knee-deep know gadgets and jaw exercisers, like we are now.

The only absurd item from that 80s era, that feels like it could come from this era, was Susan Somers's Thighmaster. Its futility was ahead of its time.

I had one of those Thighmasters. Someone in the family bought it for me. I wish I would remember who and why. I’d love to chit-chat with them about what that gift was about.

We once had a family friend over once and he relentlessly teased me for it. He put it between his legs and grunted. I still flinch remembering. I was so ashamed.

Remembering this feeling makes me think of the popular feminist expression “Not fragile like a flower. Fragile like a bomb.” I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. I should have strangled the fucker with it — or with my thighs. Damn, they were strong. Still are.

Meanwhile, back to Molly’s cleavage.

That Molly Ringwald putting on lipstick with her cleavage scene was powerful. She wasn’t like Pamela Lee Anderson or Selma Hayek, with ample corsetted breasts. She was maybe an AB cup. But the world swooned.

Had she done it in the era of the memes we now inhabit, it would have been the meme that sank Twitter.

It wasn’t even the size of her breasts that enabled her to put on the lipstick from her “cleavage.” It was her talent.

Rumor has it, in reality, Molly Ringwald couldn’t do the lipstick trick, which I don’t hold against her. It was a movie. The Breakfast Club wasn’t real either. It was also, a movie.

My girlfriends and I tried this trick. It wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t easy. Everybody’s breasts were different. Bigger did not mean firmer. Smaller did not mean you were incapable of doing the trick. It really was all in the scaffolding of the bra and the agility of your neck.

This morning one of my besties sent me a text telling me her mom, who had broken her arm, was doing mostly okay. Then she sent a photo of her mom’s lipstick container. She said, her mom was in pain, but at least she could put on her lipstick.

Mostly in life, it’s the little things that get us through. The little victories. The little scenes in big movies. The little breasts.