The time has come to retire my opaque tights for the summer.
I know it’s hot and I know it might make you feel hot to look at my fabric-covered pins, but I could wear tights all year round. I would. And I have. When I was about 16 I defied convention and wore black tights and cowboy boots for the duration of the summer.
This year, however, I am baring my legs to the world. I’m doing this because:
A) I’m sick of hearing “aren’t you hot in those!?!?”
B) articles like this suggest it’s what you’re supposed to do
C) the irritants from point A) actually have a point, it is quite hot this year.
So with reluctance, with sadness, with regret,
I have pushed my tights to the bottom of the washing bin, folded my tights up and put them away for the year, accepted that they are the adult equivalent of a safety blanket and told myself I can survive without them.
It sounds so simple doesn’t it? Just stop wearing tights! If anything, it should save a couple of minutes in the morning, non?
There are a MYRIAD of issues that crop up the moment the trusty opaques are banished.
Sit comfortably fellas ‘cos I’m going to list the myriad. Ready?
The moment opaques are out the window, you suddenly realise that all your dresses are far too short to be appropriate for the workplace. In a tight, I can skip around, pick up boxes, even venture outside on a windy day. Once the legs are bare, I’m in constant danger of flashing someone and all my dresses seem to reveal an awkward amount of thigh.
I don’t mean to get all Protein World here, but I don’t feel “summer body ready”. I feel like a thumb that’s been under a plaster and has gone all pink and wibbly. As females, before baring our legs, we’re generally supposed to make them completely and utterly BALD like the head of Harry Hill. That takes a while and is boring and/or expensive.
My legs are also the colour of an albino earth worm. I think the next stage, generally expected of me by a society influenced by the Daily Fail Sidebar of Shame, is to go to Boots, buy a bottle of brown, and then pour the brown on my legs. FEMINIST RANT AIR HORN: Why do I have to do this and my boyfriend doesn’t? Why can’t I leap around like a happy antelope with white hairy legs?
‘White hairy legs’ sounds gross doesn’t it? But Ryan Gosling has white hairy legs, and that’s not gross, and antelopes have hairy legs too and they are the most elegant creatures there are! Exhibit A.
I say let’s change our leg-inspo icons. Less GISELE, more GAZELLE?
I am incredibly clumsy and I go about my business bumping into stuff and acquiring a fair amount of bruises along the way. In fact, I tripped up a curb and fell onto the street a few weeks ago. Completely flat on the floor. A few days later I fell down the stairs.
Do you ever wonder who actually needs to be reminded to ‘mind the gap’ when leaving the tube? ME. I once fell down the aforementioned gap and had to be hoiked out by a random.
In summary, I am Madame Bump and my legs reflect this.
In the summer I can’t cover these catastrophes with a double-figure denier. I have to bare them, with all their cuts and scrapes looking like I’ve been dragged through a bramble bush, set on fire and then pelted with bruise-hued paintballs.
Don’t tell me to use concealer – do you not think I’ve tried this? It doesn’t work.
What am I doing with my shoes? All shoes look completely different without tights. I know some people can pull off bare legs and black boots, but I just look like I got distracted while getting dressed and forgot to wear something. It just looks wrong.
And then pumps. Do you wear socks, or are we also going sockless all summer? And don’t get me started on sandals. My feet resemble something from Lord of the Rings, it takes weeks of work to make them suitable for a general audience.
In summary, the day I have to cast aside my trusty opaque tights is a really sad one. On the flip side, I appreciate there are far more pressing issues in the world right now, so basically dear Nicola, suck it up and get over it!
RANT OVER. [DROPS MIC]