For the Love of Tights

Post by C.M.

What do Duchess Catherine the Great Middleton and I have in common? Besides owning a pair of go-to nude heels, possessing demon hair that turns into a frizzy beast in humidity and having a penchant for recycling favourite outfits, not a lot. However there is one more pivotal thing: a mutual love of hosiery.

I’m not talking about black tights, stockings or novelty, I’m talking skin-coloured beauties complete with gusset and reinforced toes.

Now I’m sure Kate doesn’t really need to encase her legs in nylon, and it’s down to some prim royal protocol that she is wont to break out the old 15 dernier, but I’m sure she appreciates just how much easier a pair of tights makes your life. Missed a few errant leg hairs after a hasty shaving? No problem! Freezing outside but want to put your pins on show? Grab a pair of American Tan!

My legs are pale beyond belief and erupt goosepimples at the faintest hint of cool air, and no matter how much exfoliating, moisturising, fake tanning, Sally Hansoning and praying I do they are impossible to make presentable. I went to an outdoor gig last summer and wanted to wear the new shorts I had bought not long before, thinking there would be a summer, but the same problem inevitably recurred. So what did I do? I popped my tights on underneath and off I went! Probably looked weirder than if I had just left my chicken-skin on show, but I didn’t care. There’s safety and warmth in those funny-looking thingamajigs, except when they ladder and your whole world falls apart.

They are deeply unsexy and it evokes an image of shedding a layer of skin when you take them off. If you get them in the wrong shade the overall effect can be, I admit, quite unflattering. Sometimes they’re really shimmery and that is just not right! But Kate and I know that once you’ve found your perfect pair they’re as indispensable as an LK Bennett court, and just as versatile. Tights – I give you the Royal salute.

TIghts pic
Tights under shorts, in the daytime, at a music festival! Needless to say my trips to the port-a-loo were based on a desperation level.


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