Silk Stockings

By Alison Bruce

Is there a sexier image than a long, elegant leg clad in silk stockings? Think Cyd Charisse in the movie Silk Stockings. Now think Joe Namath in the famous pantyhose commercial. Sure, he was attractive in his day, but pantyhose just doesn't have the same allure.

It's not just the stockings. Think lace-trimmed garters with matching bra and undies optional. Maybe they are red hot satin or sultry black lace or not-so-virginal white with pink and blue ribbons.  This is the stuff of fantasy and erotic romance book covers.

Then there's reality.

Silk stockings are nice. I used to buy silk pantyhose because nylons made my skin break out. I don't think you can find them outside specialty shops now. It was hard enough for me to find them back then. I had to take good care of them because they cost me a small fortune.

On the other hand, they felt gorgeous. I had a date try to feel up my leg under the dinner table. He got distracted by the silkiness of my stockings and forgot what he was trying to accomplish.I sympathized, but there was never going to be a second date. I'd never know if he wanted me for myself or my hosiery.

Perhaps I was cheating, having silk pantyhose, not silk stockings. Frankly, I wasn't sure I was up to wearing garters. The only kind I was familiar with were the type used to hold up sanitary napkins. Nothing romantic about those. Then there were the roll-on girdles my mother used to wear. They had garters attached. If I could have found one in sultry black or red hot satin, I might have been tempted. But there was something else...

My mother grew up in World War II, when silk stockings cost a fortune and nylon stockings practically unheard of in England. One of my mother's many skills was darning silk stockings.

An attractive young woman in a small town surrounded by air fields, my mother had a very active social life...and only one pair of good silk stockings. One trick she employed was to take off her stockings at dances as soon as it dark enough for the change to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, without the stockings to hold the girdle down, it had an evil habit of rolling up like a blind.

After some jumping and jiving to a few quickies, the band would play a slow piece and Mum's favourite guy du jour would sweep her into his arms and SNAP! Up rolled the girdle. So much for sexy.

This would never have happened to Cyd Charrise... or Joe Namath. And it wasn't going to happen to me.