Tights
I never intended to kick my blog off with a post about tights…but it has taken nearly two years of scattered thoughts and procrastination to reach this point of typing words on to the page. Finally, I have pulled up my big-girl tights, stepped in to my boots and I am jumping straight in!
I have never described myself as a girly-girl or particularly tidy. As much as my imagination would allow for many hours spent playing with dolls, I never have looked like one. In fact, I am a scruff!
I have many early recollections - but one in particular paved the way for a detestation of tights. Whilst my brother was still a baby I remember having mornings out, by myself to a little playgroup. Perhaps my first experience of independence, even if only once or twice a week. I would be collected by a lady in a digger car. It was an old style Beetle - I have no idea why I called it a digger car, but when I owned a new version myself many years later I remembered this name adopted by my three year old self. These were the days before mandatory seatbelts, let alone booster seats so there seemed to be several of us toddlers squeezed in to the back seat. Apart from the lady driver and an older lady playing a piano I don’t recall much more…apart from my tights!
These were the 70’s - photos show me dressed in burgundy (isn’t that such a 70s colour?!) velvet dresses, woollen tights and hand-knitted cardigans. These were the staged photographs - probably taken on Christmas Day. My play-group tights were off-white, wool (or polyester mix), most probably bought at Woolworths. They sagged at the knees and were baggy on the crotch and they were full of splinters from me shuffling about on the old wooden floor. Many women complain that tights irritate, ahem…their lady gardens. For me - the scratchy wool, the sagginess and discomfort from splinters set me up for a life time of tights-angst. I fear and loathe them in equal measures.
My only reprise was my purple and black striped Mary Quant tights bought from a shop near Leeds train station in 1992. This was the year that I landed head first in to Grunge - I had found a genre - style and music that I could relate to. I wore pretty baby-doll dresses alongside over-sized holey cardigans and self-destructed boots. My Mum had long since given up trying to tame my hair, which was now plaited and twisted in dreadlock style curls. I could express my uniqueness and anger at conformity whilst still trying desperately to fit in to something…anything!
Side note: I still have those stripy tights, although I laddered them last October whilst trying to squeeze them up over my thighs for a Samhain gathering!
But here I am now, whilst still experimenting with my image and style giving tights another go! My curiosity was drawn in to social media feeds by Snag Tights (I must have friends who follow/buy from them). I was instantly in awe of the many styles, plus their use of plus size (a word I use hesitantly) and less able bodied models. Here is my first pair! I suspect they will be kept for special occasions - for fear of sagging, laddering and accumulating splinters but I have always been a show-off (since my play group days) so here I am, showing them off for you!
Please note - I am in no way endorsed or sponsored by Snag Tights, although a little acknowledgement or cheeky discount always makes me do a happy dance!
