Frills, thrills and tassles

Sexy lingerie. It's the classic cliche, all red and black with satin bows, perceived by men as the ideal romantic gift and feared by women as a waste of space in a small box. Yes, it's "peep-hole bra" time of year again and Agent Provocateur in London's Soho is packed full of Valentine-shopping men with unfulfilled fantasises. They want to give something small and sexy, even though the average English woman is actually a size 16. They want it to be a figure-hugging fit but they're not sure if that means A or D.

"We had one poor soul in here this morning who obviously couldn't take it anymore," says Marilyn Bygraves. "He just came up to me and begged me to give him anything - as long as it was pretty and frilly, he didn't mind. When I asked him what size he wanted, he just said: 'Any size, it doesn't matter, I've just got to give her something.' So I gave him a 32A. I think we'll be seeing her shortly for an exchange."

At this time of year Marilyn Bygraves' job is more akin to that of social worker than sales assistant. And she loves it. Marilyn, you see, lives for lingerie. "I haven't really got any clothes," she says, "because every time a new range comes in, I just have to have it. One day I think I'll have to go and work in Millets just so that I can put some sensible clothing in my wardrobe."

Meantime, each time the gold buzzer rings on the shop door, she and her colleagues, Anna and Gina, are ready to help. Like Florence Nightingales dressed in cotton and chiffon Nell Gwyn uniforms, they administer to the needy. They smile and coo as their customers make choices, ranging from crotchless marabou-feathered French panties to leopard-print baby doll outfits that would barely cover the average, umm, baby. And they attempt, without smirking, to guess bust sizes with nothing more to go on than a pair of outstretched cupped hands.

Of course there are some men, like 30-year-old designer Max Greenall, who are dab hands, as it were. He's been successfully buying lingerie for his girlfriend for years, without any help from the female of the species. "There's a fine line between turn on and turn off," he expertly explains. "For instance, the red outfits are always popular but they can look cheap, even if they're not. And personally I don't like the baby dolls, they remind me of something from that Seventies family comedy, Bewitched."

Max eventually settles on a very classy chiffon corset, trimmed in eau de nil lace. His girlfriend is one of the lucky ones. "Do you think she'll like it?" he asks as it's being wrapped. "Ooh yes" we all chime, because it's true - it'll probably fit and she won't end up looking like Cher in drag. The boy done good.

Meanwhile James, sporting an all-over tan picked up from his life running the Ibiza nightclub Fantasia, has spotted the nipple tassles, or "pasties" to give them their correct lingerie term. Marginally smaller than egg cosies, finely covered in red sequins with six inch-long silk tassels, they have no visible means of support and need to be held on with fake eyelash glue. Ouch. "Yes!" he roars. "She said she'd wear a pair if I found some. I don't know if they're really what she wanted, but she'll look really hot in them. She can wear them to the club."

Surely he'll need a nice Marks & Spencer cardi to go over those? "Nah, I'll just get the tasselled G-string to match and that'll be it. Could be asking for trouble, but still, she'll look fantastic." Apparently nipple tassels are all the rage in Ibiza this year.

Over by the leather brassiere section, Brian, a law clerk from Windsor, is umming and ahhing. He is holding a leather half-cup in his hand. This is a bra where most of the bosom is left outside the garment. He is undecided. Will she, won't she? "It would be more sensible to give her gift vouchers I suppose, but I gave her some last year and she was too embarrassed to come and spend them, so I had to come back and spend them myself. But I don't mind. It's nice being in the shop and looking at the gorgeous undies, and the girls are really helpful, but I don't think they'd try things on for me. Shame really, I bet they look great."

There are some men who, unlike Brian, leave nothing to chance. These are the men who come Valentine's shopping with their beloveds. The sensible ones, or the cowards, depending on how you look at it. Robin Banks and Caroline Feraday stroll into the shop looking like love's young dream. He says he has seen something he likes, but can't remember what it is; it was in a magazine, but he's having trouble finding it. "Boys and describing underwear don't really go together do they?" sighs Caroline.

Robin is about to take over from Bob Geldof on the Xfm radio Drivetime slot, and Caroline is a DJ on Capital radio, so they fall into the category of celebrity shoppers, not a new phenomenon for Agent Provocateur. "When Noel [Gallagher] came he sat outside the shop on the front step while Meg strolled around inside," says Robin. "Me, I like to see what I'm getting."

And what he's getting is a pink leopard-print baby doll complete with matching panties. They were keen on the black satin and pink lace corset number but sadly Caroline's bust was too large for their largest size. "It just wasn't big enough," Robin keeps saying proudly.

However, not all the shopping couples are so love-struck. George Wilson is sprawled out on the wet-look leather sofas at the front of the shop. "I really only agreed to come in so I could have a sit down," he confides. "I'm not really into all this stuff. But the wife likes it, so I go along with it - she's buying it for herself, not me."

As the lunchtime rush calms down, Gina, who has worked for Agent Provocateur almost since it's inception four years ago, talks me through some of the favourite items. The see-through black bra and G-string combination is a perennial seller, as are the heavy boned-and-laced French corsets. But she admits it's difficult to judge a customer just by looking. Often it's the straightest-looking ones who go for the more outlandish outfits and vice versa. Although it's always the unaccompanied men who seem the most anxious.

"Some of them come into the shop and they are visibly shaking," she says. "I don't know what they think is going to happen in here but it takes them at least 15 minutes to relax. We're very nice to them and help them pick out a few garments and then they seem to calm down. But I'm constantly amazed by the shaking and the fear."

As I'm leaving, Peter, a sous chef from West London, is whittling down his choices. Should he go for the pink satin bustier or the cowgirl briefs? He and his girlfriend had agreed only to give each other tiny gifts this year, so it might have to be the pounds 60 micro panties. Decisions, decisions. He says that the added bonus of coming here is that they wrap everything beautifully in a box with ribbons, which makes it look like he's made an extra effort and so it's worth every penny.

I wonder if he, like some of his fellow shoppers, becomes nervous and shaky when he first steps into the shop? "Shaky?" he laughs. "Look at this stuff, it's impossible not to feel shaky, it's a basic biological reaction!"

Agent Provocateur, 6 Broadwick Street, London W1, tel: 0171 439 0229. Mail order: 01483 204469