Yesterday, post-yoga and post-mildew encrusted shower (since I stopped being a work-study person at my yoga studio things have gone seriously downhill), I was in the process of putting on one of my new, hard-won, $48 bras when twang - the strap came unglued.
Yes, UNGLUED. To the causal observer, the strap appears to be sewn, but on closer inspection, it seems that some kind of pinpoint-pronged heated press was used to MELT stitch-like marks on the fabric.
At the time, I attributed my ability to continue calmly dressing rather than mutate into a obscenity-spewing monster to the Power of Yoga, though honestly it also might have been my general inclination to save that kind of behavior for home.
Time to start knitting my own underwear.