“Oh my god…hey…where have you been?”
These are the sentiments that bubbled in my brain as I casually and recently pulled on a pair of thigh high stockings. The “where have you been” was me talking to myself at age 17 when I wore thigh highs, much like people wear underwear—almost daily. It was in my early years that I put a lot of work into my looks and wore vintage pumps, garter belts, swing skirts and tight sweaters. I loved the ’50s era and dreamed of perfecting Marilyn Monroe’s inimitable signature facial moves complete with bedroom eyes and flirty little nose twitch. No, really, I had a dream that she visited me from the grave and taught me her tricks. In the end, and in front of the mirror after waking up, this beak just didn’t have flirt.
It’s funny how our evolutions sometimes have us losing our better selves for ones that are managing, coping, getting by. I haven’t felt sexy in a long time, even though my sweetest husband tells me differently.
I abandoned thigh highs I don’t even know when, only to kill my waistline with conventional hosiery, and that too has been long forsaken. Now I just go bare. With the upcoming holiday season, temperatures dropping, and impending trips to New York and London I realize I’ve got to keep my gams warm.
Pulling on my newly acquired VienneMilano’s (sounds sexy to me) and some party shoes, I’m seventeen again. These stockings are soooo goooood, gripping my thighs with a “lady we aren’t going anywhere” smooth band, hitting higher and more assuredly on the leg then the tired hose I used to wear, which slid below my knees by lunchtime. I. Feel. Sexy. And even more importantly, comfortable. I can breath, I can dance. Forget Marilyn, now I’m Sophia Loren since these beauties are from Italy.
Scusa, I have to go and order a pair of the VienneMilano cashmere thigh-highs, pronto! Ciao, Bella!