After eight years of designing lingerie, Nancy Yoo has learned a thing or two about how to make a woman feel sexy and comfortable.

“It’s not about being risqué,” says the newlywed matter-of-factly, while flipping through look books of her summer and fall collections. “[My line] isn’t one that would make men go ‘I want my girlfriend in this.’ But it is something [that would] make a woman tell another woman, ‘I really love this.’”

Yoo is the brainchild behind Fleur’t, a line of lingerie and sleepwear she describes as “fresh, flirtatious and feminine.”

“We’re a line about firsts,” she explains. “The first time you fall in love, your first date, your first crush, your first flirt.”

With more than $1 million in sales last year, Fleur’t gives women an alternative to racy bustiers and edible underwear. Instead of emphasizing the overtly sexual, Yoo opts for lingerie that fits and feels good. The lace-trimmed panties stretch gently and softly. The camisoles always have a lining or a shelf bra. Their best-selling boy shorts sit low on the hips and give a snug fit without a tight waistband. Many of the styles are accented with lace embroidery and playful appliqués, and come in vibrant, floral patterns.

The 39-year-old creator says her inspiration is loosely based on “the whole sort of good girl idea.” It’s an appropriate theme for Yoo, a self-professed “good girl” who grew up in the South.

Yoo, who is not a formally trained designer, recalls spending much of her childhood staying out of trouble and listening to her parents. “I played the piano,” the Atlanta native says. “My mom really wanted me to be a lawyer or a professor. There was a lot of pressure to conform.”

The middle child of immigrant parents, Yoo and her siblings were sent to private schools where they were often the only Asian people in the class.

“Living in the South was interesting,” she says, laughing. “Nobody asked me out on dates. … A lot of the kids’ parents were members of a country club that wouldn’t even let Jews in.”

Longing for some space and independence, Yoo eventually moved to the West Coast to pursue a doctorate in Asian American literature at the University of California, Los Angeles, where she experienced culture shock.

“When I came out,” she recalls, “I was really surprised people weren’t staring at me all the time and that I wasn’t getting nasty looks when I went to grocery stores to buy things.”

Yoo’s creative awakening officially came halfway through graduate school when she and her friend Julie Park decided to start a mail order company that sold only white lingerie. “We had a beautiful catalogue but I think we had, like, three sales.”

Forced to get rid of their inventory to recoup their losses, they sold their duds at a trade show. Much to their surprise, the two made some valuable connections at the event. “It” boutiques like Ron Herman and Jill Roberts decided to purchase the leftovers, and Yoo and Park were out of the red.