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The History of Hosiery
Legwear Through the Ages
When a woman rolls her nylons on in the morning, the last thing she's
thinking about is how they were invented. Or what the origins of slinky
leg coverings may be. She's just hoping she won't get a run and that
they'll last her through the day without drooping or sagging. But the
nylon fetishist gives the matter much thought. And he receives much
pleasure from those thoughts. Journey with me now, if you will, back in
time, to the beginnings of: pantyhose!
What we consider today to be pantyhose had their origins 1,700 years
ago. The absolute genesis of hose would have to date back to the Third
Century AD, with the origin of hand knitting. The earliest fragments of
knit fabric were discovered at the ruins of the ancient Syrian city of
Dura Europos, founded in 280 BC. Further evidence of hand knitting was
also found in the Egyptian tombs of the Coptic Period. A few of the
articles unearthed here were recognizable as socks. In fact, the
Egyptians are credited as having worn the first known socks, rather
bulky specimens, they were, with separate big toes much like mittens.
Attila the Hun wore brightly colored bands of cloth around his legs,
precursors to garters. He favored layers of tights and socks in
contrasting striped and checked patterns.
Medieval stockings, called hose, were made of woven material and
weren't expected to be skin tight. They rolled on the way today's socks
do. Sometimes they had feet, but often they had stirrups. Longer hose
were held up by ties attached at the tops that were then tied over a
belt. But shorter stockingsÑsocks, actuallyÑwere held up
by fabric strips, or garters, that were tied around the leg just above
the knee. Soon garters were used for both short and long hose.
In late 1500 England, a mechanical knitting machine was invented by
Reverend William Lee. Obviously, this miraculous wonder transformed the
industry. Or, more accurately, I suppose, it started the industry,
since prior to machines, there was no industry. Now, there was no
longer a need for time-consuming hand knitting. (Although I'm sure
there are a few of you out there who would lovingly revive the lost
art.)
Reverend Lee's invention was thought to of such leg-warming importance
that the Queen let it be known that anyone caught smuggling the machine
or its plans out of the country would be put to death. A frightening
specter, indeed! Well, just imagine Her Majesty's glee when she
received that first pair of silk stockings in 1589. We have no way of
knowing how they looked on her legs beneath all her layers of
petticoats, but they must have felt spectacular! Especially when
compared to the hand knit wools she'd no doubt been wearing up until
that time.
By the turn of the Twentieth Century, hosiery was being produced from
cottons, wools and silks. Since these particular fibers had no
elasticity, the hose had to be cut from flat pieces of material and
carefully sewn. When the circular knitting machine was invented, there
was no longer a need to cut and sew. A "tube" of knitted fabric was
produced. But still, without that elusive elasticity, it was necessary
to produce many sizes. And the aggravating and unattractive trouble of
bagging, sagging stockings was something women were forced to contend
with.
Then, in 1937, a research chemist for DuPont discovered that a mixture
of coal, tar air and water produced a durable, flexible fiber. Dr.
Carothers's melted, molten polymer could be stretched in ultra-thin
filaments, then cooled and stretched to form strong, sheer fibers. The
resulting fiber had the sheer characteristics of silk, but with a
strength vastly superior to that of cotton or wool. It was dubbed nylon.
DuPont's nylons display at the 1939 World's Fair was a smashing
success. On their first day of sale in New York City, May 15, 1940,
72,000 pairs were snatched up by thrilled female consumers, eager to
try out the futuristic hose. A total of four million pairs sold in four
days. Needless to say, the advent of nylon put plenty of Japanese
silkworms out to pasture.
U.S. production of nylon hosiery was rudely interrupted during World
War II, as all nylon was utilized for war supplies, such as belts and
parachutes. Women went bare-legged unwillingly, often drawing faux
seams up the backs of their legs with eyebrown pencil. But American
women had had their taste of sheer clingy things on their calves. And
after the war was over and those nylons hit the stores, the
thigh-hugging-hungry hoardes descended upon the purveyors with an
unprecedented demand. The first post-war sale of hosiery was on San
Francisco's Market Street in 1945. Ten thousand shoppers surged into
the shops, demanding their sheer, sexy stockings. In New York City,
Macy's sold out their entire 50,000 pair inventory. And in Pittsburgh,
40,00 women stood outside in the pouring rain all night long, waiting
for one tiny hosiery shop to open up. By 1948, nylon production caught
up with demand and shopping for nylon hose became somewhat more
civilized.
But how did all those women hold their hose up? Well, anyone who's ever
peeked at a girly magazine knows that the standard garter belt did most
of the hoisting. But all sorts of resourceful strategies were used to
keep those hose held high. One woman even recalls using a dime. She
would take the dime and wrap the upper edge of the stocking down over
it to hold it in place. Then she'd twist the dime around until the top
of her stocking was tight on her thigh. A quick tuck of the dime into
the inside of the stocking top kept everything securely in place. And
if she ever found herself in need of a dime for an emergency telephone
call, there was one pressed against each thigh!
Improvements didn't stop with strong and sheer, however. The next major
transformation in nylons came about in the 1950s, when yarn
manufacturers discovered that by applying crimps to the yarn under
heat, a texturing added stretch. Hose woven from this textured yarn
could stretch and snap back into shape, closely fitting the assorted
contours of the female leg. With the final stretchy development of
Spandex in 1959, the hosiery industry was truly revolutionized. As
anyone who's ever slipped into a pair of running shorts knows, the
highly elastic Spandex continuously conforms to the body, stretching in
every direction the wearer does and snapping back just as easily.
When fashion reached its most outrageous in the '60s, pantyhose went
right along for the ride. No longer were nylons just a subtle shade,
blending into a woman's wardrobe. They were woven from shocking,
traffic-stopping colors, patterned with ribbing and textures, and dyed
with wild, psychedelic designs. Skirts got so short they were almost an
afterthought, with all the onlooker's attention focused on the
legsÑand whatever whacky confection a woman happened to cover
them in.
Today, a woman has her pick. She can suffer through heavy woolen tights
if she so chooses, or she can live in those bygone medieval days by
lacing cotton thigh-highs up her legs. Old-fashioned silk stockings,
the sort that bag and sag, can still be found, and lovingly hiked up
over thighs with equally quaint garter belt contraptions. Pantyhose
come in every imaginable permutation, control top to hold in a slightly
bulging tummy, sheer-to-toe, with well-manicured toenails peeking
through, extra sheer, shiny, shimmering, sparkling or fishnet.
Personally, I have a whole drawer just overflowing with hose, hot pink
and jade green, lavender fishnets and cable knit like knee socks, one
pair with flowers woven into the hose and another pair with little
flowers sewn onto the hose. Some are cheap, with a tendency to sag a
bit, or the crotch will worm its way down to my knees halfway through
the day. I have thigh-highs with pretty satin ribbons around the tops
and wild striped tights that look like half a clown costume. And each
pair says a certain something: I'm feeling playful or passionate or
corporate and serious. But every pair is a far cry from those Egyptian
mitten socks or those sagging, stretchless wool stockings the
Victorians wore. And I'm grateful for the stretch of Spandex and the
strength of nylon. Aren't you?
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