Remember Drake’s Birkin collection? The haunting wall of untouched handbags he was saving for his future wife, a woman who did not then — and does not now — exist? Should this lucky lady ever materialize, she may have another enviable amenity at her disposal: A roomful of bras.
Imagine, if you dare, that you are said future wife — the 43rd woman Drake thought about proposing to, maybe. He gives you a tour of the cavernous mall he calls home: the dizzying marble staircase, the regulation-size basketball court, the aforementioned purse closet. All very impressive, until you are ushered into this room, a poorly lit expanse of corporate carpeting covered in brassieres of all shapes and sizes: plunge, balconette, strapless, unlined — you name it, he’s got it. In the back, a mirrored wall nearly tricks you into believing this man’s bra collection is infinite. And then, there stands Drake, just like he is in this photo: wearing JNCO jeans and a novelty tee, arms outstretched over his sea of lingerie, grinning like a madman. Welcome! he says, a maniacal twinkle in his eyes. Meet the bras.
More jarring still, Drake appears to have procured these bras through sheer charisma and sex appeal, if you can believe that. It is apparently a thing to toss one’s bra at Drake during his concerts — just as it is apparently a thing for Drake to quietly gather up all the bras and squirrel them away, arranging them in a grid formation for en masse viewings whenever the mood strikes. A totally normal, non-creepy thing for a man to do, perhaps even with his future wife?