The Magic Bra Shop of NYC: Orchard Corset Still Has It

Updated April 2025: This post was first written in 2012 and—believe it or not—Orchard Corset is still going strong. Some things really do stand the test of time, and this tiny NYC shop is one of them.

I Used to Be a Non-Believer

Let’s get this out of the way: I didn’t believe in magic bras. Or bra shops, for that matter.

I figured a decent bra was the result of a sale rack score and a bit of wishful thinking. But then I walked into Orchard Corset on the Lower East Side, and within 10 minutes, I was fitted into a bra that made me question all my previous life choices.

This little hole-in-the-wall shop doesn’t look like much from the outside. There’s no Instagram, no online reviews you can scroll for hours, and—brace yourself—no website. It’s like stepping back in time, in the best possible way.

The Bra Chooses You

You know that scene in Harry Potter when the wand chooses the wizard?

That’s what it feels like when you walk into Orchard Corset on the Lower East Side.

Except instead of wands and spells, it’s bras and middle-aged women with decades of experience, and instead of Hogwarts, you’re in a tiny, dimly lit shop that looks like it hasn’t changed since the ‘70s. And that’s exactly the point.

What Makes Orchard Corset So Special?

The magic starts when you meet Peggy, the owner, the legend, the bra whisperer. She takes you behind a curtain and you show her the goods. With only a brief look (and zero tape measures), she turns to the wall of stacked boxes like a wizard eyeing her spellbook.

Then, as if one whispered to her, she pulls a box down and—et voilà—she’s tucking your girls into the best-fitting bra they’ve seen in, well, maybe forever.

No small talk, no sales pitch, no drama. Just pure, intuitive expertise.

This woman, and the experts she employs, have done this for decades. You’re in, you’re measured, and suddenly you’re wondering how you ever wore anything else.

Famous Boobs, Friendly Prices

First—if the idea of getting naked in front of a stranger makes you squirm—get over it. Peggy has seen it all, including, I might add, Madonna’s and the cast of Mad Men.

Second—if that makes you think your boobs don’t measure up to “famous” ones, don’t let it bother you. Peggy doesn’t care. When my girlfriend said, “It must be so cool helping Madonna and her dancers,” Peggy just shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “No cooler than helping you.”

Finally—if you’re assuming this kind of bra-fitting magic comes with a sky-high price tag, think again. I walked out with two everyday bras, a bra for when I want to indulge the girls, and a pair of for-my-husband’s-eyes-only underwear for $150. (remember this was originally written in 2012, so prices are likely up in 2025)

Naturally, I now feel the need to schedule regular visits to New York—you know, just to keep my boobs happy. Totally valid excuse, right?