Remember when a bra strap was supposed to remain hidden—unless you were a hot-blooded Latina in a Broadway musical, a zaftig Italian in a Felini film, or a frazzled housewife headed for her 19th nervous breakdown? Well, I do, and thank goodness times have changed! Thank goodness bra straps have changed! Remember when an errant bra strap could be mistaken for a first-aid mishap? Boy, I do. I used to think Band-Aid Brand was responsible for all ugly undergarments because I thought they held the patent on flesh color. I was wrong. But it's the thought that counts.

All right, so the old Curad support system still has a place among the fashion undernourished and the mom who hasn't gone soccer, but with a Victoria's Secret on every corner, there seems little reason to adhere to those fleshy antiseptic devices of generations past. Welcome to the new millennium, where bras are like Skittles, but with a whole lot more flavor. Available in a rainbow assortment of colors—including clear—and all sorts of delicious materials, from lace to Lycra, the bra and its signature straps have truly come into their own.

It's why I started wearing bras. As much as I enjoyed the natural bounce of wearing nothing at all, the allure of a brand new fashion accessory was more than I could resist, and suddenly, my tank tops had a renewed lease on life. My pistachio ribbed Blue Tattoo tank with the silk-screened orange coy positively came alive when accompanied by a thin-strapped Cosabella demi of a matching orange. Even my shoulders rose to the occasion, seeming to become more toned and supple, as if their role in life had been elevated. In fact, it had. My shoulders had become supporting characters, whereas before they were just extras, rounding out the scene, but never really being noticed. Being strapped was definitely paying off.

But then, like all good fashion trends, it had to go too far. If one pair of complementary bra straps made the outfit, then certainly more would make more of it. Yeah, that's the ticket: more straps. And who doesn't love the layered look? We can wear more and buy more. More bras and camis and slip blouses, each with their own set of straps. The silken spaghetti slip straps have to coordinate with the dual tulle bra straps that have to coalesce with the Nylon and Spandex cami straps. So, on goes the bra, then the form-fitting cami, then the loose-fitting slip blouse, then the— Okay, so has anyone besides me noticed that we're now wearing three layers of underwear in the bloody summer? Thank you, fashion visionaries, for putting the "trapped" in "strapped"!

I can't do it. I won't do it. Just make the damn blouse that has the fifty different straps sewn into the shoulders and I'll buy it. Seriously. Make it simple. I don't have time to try on every strapped garment I own only to find that it'll work fine if I just remove layer number three and switch the positions of layers four and five. Nor can I bear to look like all the boyfriendless teens who throw on every sleeveless shirt they own—along with bra and cami for the necessary thin-strap contrast—just to achieve a fashionista-forward appearance. After spending the better part of a day auditioning my various tank tops for coordinated compatibility, I managed to find two that could co-mingle comfortably—with or without a cream Cosabella cami. I called that a success and threw everything back in the drawer. Game over.

And yet, I'm at peace with myself. I now own more bras and camis than I have at any other point in my life, and ironically, it feels liberating. Thanks to being a fashion-conscious female, I have grown as a person. But I also recognize my limitations: more than six straps and I feel like the backside of an entertainment center. But hey, that's me. Now it's time to get ready for fall. Out with the flairs in with the straight-legs.