L ast week I set off on a two-days-and-two-nights tights-wearing odyssey. Why, you ask? Because tights for men are a thing. I know this for two reasons: first, because I had coffee with the author of Hosiery for Men , a blog built on the premise that men do wear hosiery. Also — I have come to understand — not only are tights nice and snug, but they were originally intended for us men anyway, in all our swashbuckling Tudor glory.
Corporate dress codes are barometers of the standards of polite society. Between the lines, they also articulate the limits within which power may permissibly intrude on personal space. Consider, then, the dress and decorum policy of the Mayo Clinic, which is, among other distinctions, a hospital where your doctor is likely to turn up wearing a suit. No casual Friday has ever mussed its calendar. Sheer hosiery entered a steady decline in It is impossible to think that it will recover its former esteem, though observers have suggested the Duchess of Cambridge, often obliged by palace protocol to wear nylons, as a force guiding its resurgence. Her intervention is a twist appropriate to hosiery history.
For decades upon decades, women wore hosiery. All through the 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s, this is simply what the ladies wore… but then, suddenly, it went away. What the hell happened? In the UK and much of Europe, hosiery has made a comeback in recent years, but in the United States it is entirely absent. Feel free to offer your own explanation for their mysterious disappearance, and together we can solve this mystery.
The story of pantyhose runs in the Gant family. Since the late Allen Gant Sr. Three generations of women have now experienced waist-to-toe stockings, and few would be surprised to discover that a man invented pantyhose. According to Allen Gant Jr.