Quick! Somebody don’t tell Nicki Minaj this isn’t done any more!
I have been informed of many things while writing this blog and Fast Lane. Crazy things. Things my man-brain could never have conceived of. But now I have been informed of what may be the craziest thing, which is—and I quote:
“No one wears stockings with heels any more.”
Which raises the question, “If not with heels, then with what would one wear stockings?”
Apparently nothing, if possible. I was also informed that men like seeing women wearing stockings more than women like wearing them.
This was just one revelation imparted to me at my Tuesday writing group. The other is that no woman would have problems running in three-inch heels. A shocker, for sure, since I can barely run if I’m wearing the wrong kind of sneakers.
The demise of stockings, I was told, has come about due to the rise of waxing and something called “spray tanning.” Now, I got nuttin’ against bare legs. But legs with stockings on them? That’s what heaven looks like.
The conversation about stockings and heels quickly morphed into a jeremiad for today’s young women.
“I’d hate to be twenty-five,” ManWARrior and information source supreme Judy said. “Young women have to do so much these days. Nails. Hair. Tanning. Waxing almost their entire bodies.”
I can clearly remember being twenty-five and not being all that concerned about whether a woman did any of this stuff (though legs and armpits that had regular encounters with razors were always appreciated).
With apologies to Cameron Crowe, “You had me at female.”
Upon further research, I’m pleased to find that stockings have not disappeared entirely from the fashion landscape; in some circles they’re considered the perfect accessory for Army boots. Fine. I can imagine that. Already have. A character in Fast Lane does exactly that. I thought I was making up something quirky and clever, but I guess it’s another case of fact preceding fiction.
I will, though, have to go back into the manuscript to expunge the errant reference to stockings in one scene and add this spray tanning thing to another.
The writing group ended with a woman reading a comical lament about how she’s getting laid (her words, not mine) with diminishing frequency as her age advances. She posits reasons for this, but I could see the true root of her problem.
“Have you tried,” I suggested in the most helpful, friendly tone I could muster, “parading around the house in stockings?”