In an era dominated by online transactions and AI assistants, a simple act of in-person service has revealed itself as a potent remedy for the growing epidemic of loneliness. Health journalist Jodi Wilson recounts how a routine bra fitting in Melbourne transformed into a moment of profound human connection, offering a stability we all crave.
The Search for Support in More Ways Than One
On a work trip, Wilson heeded a friend's advice to visit a professional bra fitter, an experience described as universally worthwhile. Despite her usual aversion to department stores, she sought out this "small moment of guidance." Having breastfed four children over eight years, her worn-out maternity bras were symbolic: tired, soft around the edges, and a little threadbare, much like she felt entering the ambiguous phase of perimenopause.
She was assisted by a fitter named Debbie, whose efficient expertise quickly identified suitable options. The process delivered a visual, humbling reminder of the inevitable changes that come with age. Within the change room, Wilson tried to avoid focusing on self-perceived flaws under the bright lights.
A Single Word That Changed Everything
It was here that the interaction transcended the merely transactional. As Debbie calmly adjusted straps and commented on the fit, she asked a simple yet resonant question: "Do you feel held?" Wilson's affirmative reply unlocked a deeper reflection. That word – held – stayed with her for the rest of the day, symbolising the stability and care we all seek in an uncertain world, even if only momentary.
While she left with practical new basics, it was the fleeting human exchange that left the most lasting impression. It starkly contrasted the dull, lonely nature of online shopping, highlighting the bolstering power of real conversation.
Why Casual Connections Are Vital Public Health
Wilson's experience underscores a critical loss in our convenient, digital-first society. We are increasingly sidestepping opportunities for planned or incidental engagements where we can both care and be cared for. Research has proven loneliness to be as physically damaging as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.
These micro-interactions – with a bra fitter, a local barista, or a fellow commuter – are now recognised as a form of early mental health intervention. They provide a vital dose of optimism and a sense of belonging, particularly for vulnerable groups like new mothers. They remind us that in the middle of a bustling city where we often scuttle anonymously, connection is still possible.
Wilson muses whether fitters like Debbie see women in the street and wish they could offer them similar relief, to literally and figuratively lift a little of life's heaviness from their shoulders. In a distracted world, we all need these small moments of tenderness and the stabilising experience of feeling truly held.
