P.S.A.

Let's be really clear about something - tights aren't leggins. Let me repeat: tights are not leggings. Tights are NOT leggings. Tights are not leggings. Is the message coming through? I hate to be so pedantic but there seems to be a pervasive misunderstanding about what constitutes a pair of tights. On what evidence do I base this claim, you might ask yourself? (particularly if you're one of my sociology friends or one of my research methods students whom I'm constantly haraunging about the difference between "normative" and "empirical" statements). I've just returned from a shopping trip in SoHo, one of New York City's most well-known shopping districts. What was meant to be a jaunt turned into a man hunt. I wanted a pair of tights to go with the corduroy skirt I was wearing and the navy shirt I purchased to go with it to complete the ensemble so that I might look spiffy at dinner on Thanksgiving. Prep-chic. The confusion began at the cash register when I asked the sales lady if she new where I could find tights. She informed me that they carried them downstairs, so after finishing the transaction I popped downstairs to look, figuring I had missed them before. Not seeing tights, I asked a sales guy. "We don't have tights, just leggings." Ah, I see. Crucial, practical difference.
Off I went, figuring one of the next two shoe stores would have tights. Not so, my friend. Aldo, Nine West, Guess, H&M, Banana Republic, Express, Ann Taylor Loft, Steve Madden, Zara. I'll spare you the details. Now in all fairness, some of the stores did have tights, but didn't have the color I needed. More than once, however, I was told that they did have tights but then directed to leggings or, on one occassion, trouser socks. SO...hoping to spare others of a similar shopping fate I thought we could do a brief vocabulary review:
tights - leg coverings, usually from waist to toes, although you can have foot-less tights, that fight tightly to the body. they are usually made of nylon, cotton, spandex or some combination there of, but can also be wool. they can be more or less opaque and come in different colors, patterns, and textures. tights are also what ballerinas and figure skaters wear.
pantyhose, also called nylons generically, are tights of 40 denier or less (thank you wikipedia, I did not know that), meaning they are more sheer. pantyhose are generally what a woman would wear with a suit or a dress. both nylons and tights come in a variety of figured-fixing/enhancing forms. trouser socks are made of tight material and come to just below the knee. they are mean to be worn with pants or slacks and dress shoes. not to be confused with knee-highs, which are pantyhose that, you guessed it, only come knee-high. note: it is not okay to wear knee-highs with something other than trousers unless you are someone's grandmother and/or are from eastern Europe. you can also have knee-high, or over-the-knee socks. then there are stockings, which are like nylons but need to be held up with a garter-belt. these are best compared to thigh-highs, which can be tights or nylons but have some form of elastic or gripping-strips so that they stay up on their own. finally, we get to the bane of my shopping trip, leggings. leggings can be made from a variety of fibers not unlike tights, but they are thicker and more opaque than tights. leggings were very much in vogue in the 1980s, and often came with stirrups, but generally are foot-less. leggings are often used as a substitute for pants, although this is not advised, unless you are a professional or high-grade althete. leggings can be ankle length but more frequently stop just below the knee or mid-calf, often with a lace trim.

So I hope we've cleared things up, and that you can now fully appreciate my aggrevation at being continuously directed to leggings, when I wanted tights. I mean, look at me. Do I look like I do leggings? I'm not saying I wouldn't if I was about 4" taller and/or weighed 10-15 lbs less, but in my current state my style is much more "I'm going to read in a coffee shop" than "I'm going to a loft in TriBeCa to see an indie-rock band". Tights complete the preptastic look by adding a splash of color and practical leg covering when it's not exactly skirt weather. They say, "I love in NYC, and I'm a graduate student." Leggings, paired with a denim mini skirt and ballerina flats, say, "I'm staying at my artsy, heroin-chic skinny boyfriend's loft in Williamsburg tonight."

"I'm not fat, there's just more of me to love." "I'm not fat, I'm fluffy." These are just two of the many lines I've given myself over my lifetime. Sometimes I've been overly hard, but, truth be told, the dial on the scale has been creeping up on me over the past few years. While I've always yo-yo-ed a bit, since starting grad school just over 3 years ago I have slowly but surely gained about 15 lbs. I'm an adult, I can control what I do with my body (unless I've had too much to drink) and I understand the fairly basic math of calories in minus energy expended = weight. So, in that light, I've been trying to take a more moderate approach to food and couple it with increased exercise. The problem is that I'm thwarted at every step! I make a healthy, fiber and protein rich whole-wheat pasta dish, and look what jumps out and smacks me in the thighs. I love ice cream, but usually I'm a Ben & Jerry's devotee. Haagen-Dazs really isn't my thing (I could go on and on about ravines of chocolate versus swirls and whole cookies versus chocolate chips - I don't like cold chunks of chocolate in my ice cream, they become too matted into the surface of my teeth - but that's not so important right now), although, like B&J, it comes in it's own hand held cardboard bowl that I really enjoy. But last week while my local heinously over-priced Gristedes, I saw this little beacon of joy and puggy-dom gleaming behind the frosted glass. It's a special edition "Sticky Toffee Pudding" flavor. S.T.P. STICKY TOFFEE PUDDING!!! Can we think of anything more delicious? Being a shameless Anglophile made it that much more irresistable. Fortunately, I polished off the pint last night so that I could get back to my more health-conscious ways...

Babydolls for grown-ups

I don't know what caused me to think of it today, but as I was walking down Broadway this morning the recollection of one of the few positive experiences I had when I worked at Victoria's Secret brought a smile to my face.

Guys came in all the time to buy gifts for their wives/girlfriends/whatevers. Some were painfully shy, and I took a great deal of pity on them, usually directing them to the cotton pajama nightshirts. Others were way too enthusiastic (if you want to buy her that lace bodysuit in turquois for your 3 month anniversary be my guest) and some were just so sleazy I wanted to shower after talking to them ("I'll take 2 - one for my wife and one for my girlfriend!" Oh, how I envy the woman you're going home to...). However, there were a few rare jems that seemed likely genuinely nice men. Again, rare. Very rare.

One such gentleman came in one day and wanted help purchasing something for his pregnant wife. I suggested a pair of soft pink fleece pajamas - they were popular with the new moms because the button front shirt provided easy access for breast feeding. No, he said, she was feeling bad about her new body with the weight gain, and he wanted her to know that she would always be sexy and beautiful to him. I suggested a sexy, yet classy, black tie-front babydoll. It would accomodate her growing belly but still be wearable post-baby. Perfect.

Part of me wanted to be there when she opened the present to see the look on her face, to watch them hug and cry and spill "I love you's" all over each other like a DeBeers commercial. Part of me wanted to ask the guy for his number, but while I have many less than desirable character traits I don't fancy myself a homewrecker. Instead I just wrapped the gift, in awe of this incredible man. Sometimes I use this memory as immaginary ammunition against boyfriends (real and potential). But will he think I'm sexy when I'm pregnant. Maybe I should just be happy knowing that those type of men do indeed exist and hope that it just contributes to some overarching cosmic balance of appreciating women's bodies.