I got a call from a friend who had just taken her thirteen-year-old daughter for a first bra fitting at Nodstrom. It went badly, my friend said, and my mind leapt to the typical reasons ... But it turned out that the problem had come in a slightly different package: six feet tall, pancake makeup blurring a stubbled jaw, two breasts grafted onto a muscular torso like add-ons. Weeks later I headed to the Nordstrom to confirm my friend's story. The employee was elegant, attentive and professional, fluttering around the floor in a tulle skirt, pink manicured nails trailing her every gesture like streamers. But there was no mistaking that this lingerie specialist was male.