At the real risk of straying into humblebrag territory, I find it incredibly tricky to find a good, dressy dress that works with a DD-cup bust. Whenever I search online, I’ll inevitably find myself 20 pages deep in a website’s search results with nothing added to favourites.
How hard can it be? Well, very, when there are bigger boobs involved. Firstly, the dress has to actually fit across the bust: no gaping, straining buttons; no breath-crushing, boob-binding squeeze; and definitely no digging-in neckline that turns two boobs into four. I can usually tell at a glance when a dress just wasn’t made with curves in mind.
A fancy frock also needs to fit at the waist. I find there’s no point going up a size to solve the bust issue if it means you look like you’re wearing maternity gear.
And even when a dress fits in both areas, there’s the other (quite big) issue to consider: the bra. In my experience, strappy dresses never look great with bra straps on show. Even though DD+ lingerie has come a long way and bra styles are a lot more delicate these days, a poking-out strap or – worse – a rogue corner of cup peeking out just takes away from the elegance of a posh frock.
Do you ever see any visible evidence of a bra in a brand’s model photos? No, you do not.
And before you suggest wearing a strapless bra, I’ll say I’m yet to find one that, after two hours of wear or a nibble of food, doesn’t make me feel like I’ve got heartburn or pleurisy. Maybe I should experiment with those sticky tape hoik-ups I’m regularly served on my Instagram feed, but I can only imagine the horror if one gave way and I ended up with breasts in two different time zones.
(NB: I’m aware this is all making me sound freakishly shaped – I’m really not! Just a very average UK woman, where the most common bra size is now apparently a 36DD.)
Anyway, to finally get to the point, I wanted to say I’ve found a very fabulous solution in the form of Nobody’s Child Layla Dress. It is simply lovely. All the booby issues solved, without a hint of frump.
Firstly, the frill mini sleeves. Not only do they look stylish and ensure that bra straps are safely hidden away, they also float delicately around the triceps, disguising my number one body-confidence nemesis.
Like many top-heavy ladies, I hold weight on my upper arms and have spent far too much time critically jiggling and pinching my bingo wings. Layla’s sleeve design acts as a useful diversion tactic, drawing attention away from troublesome triceps.
The V-neck style offers ample room for ‘the girls’ as well. I’m often between dress sizes and found the bigger size (10) was perfect for Layla: roomy enough at the bust but also gently curved in enough at the waist to avoid a sack-like effect.
I actually bought this dress in real life at the Nobody’s Child store, and when I stepped out to get a friend’s opinion, she and several bystanders immediately said: ‘That’s gorgeous! It fits so well!’ And I think not just because half of them were queueing for the changing rooms and wanted me out asap.
To avoid the risk of any rogue lingerie glimpses, the neckline calls for a lower-cut, Wonderbra-like bra, which means a bit of push-up-and-together effect. However I’m reliably informed by GH style director Melanie that this is ‘very va-va-voom’ and an all-round excellent thing. (If you did feel it was a bit much, I guess you could add a lacy vest underneath.)
Layla is made from a floaty material that fashion-illiterate me would have just described as ‘chiffon’ but which turns out to be something called Lenzing Ecovero viscose, a fabric derived from responsibly managed forest wood pulp, in line with Nobody’s Child’s eco-friendly ethos. It’s swishy, with an extra flip of sustainability. Plus, the underlayer ensures you won’t have a visible knicker line at the back.
The mid-calf length is also excellent, being dressy without potentially veering into bridesmaid/prom territory. (Actually, it would be great for either, as it’s one you could then wear afterwards without looking like you should be holding a bouquet.)
I went for the floral/black colourway, but Layla is also available in five other versions. I’m sorely tempted by both the deep emerald and the rich raspberry pink – simple block colours, but unusual enough to not just be another monotone, one-note dress.
I’ve only had the opportunity to wear it out once (it’s not really one for work or Wetherspoons), but it’s had quite a debut. I wore it on holiday, for dinner at a very fancy hotel restaurant, and when a woman at the bar said: ‘I love your dress!’ I felt floatier than the frill sleeves.
I guess it’s all down to those three magic words: va, va and voom.
