I love warm weather. Warm weather is my favourite of all the weathers. Warm weather and I...we’re like this (imagine my fingers crossed). Warm weather’s my bro, my homie, my...something else 90’s sounding. So, understandably, the fact that the weather is indeed warming up makes me deliriously happy.
Today I left my house wearing a dress. This is nothing new; I wear dresses 90% of the time. But I accessorised my dress with bare legs.
You see, in order to wear dresses for most of your days, certain layers need to be added. And for a cold frog like myself, that can add up to a lot of layers. But, you know, layers done in a subtle way, more outwardly invisible layers than those that make you look like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. Cos that’s just awkward. Trust me, I have had it happen.
But my favourite layer is definitely my stockings. Or my cardigans. No, no, my stockings. But I love my cardigans too. They’re snuggly.
Side note: I know I’m supposed to call them pantihose, since “real” stockings are those stay-up doovers, but I’ve been saying stockings my whole life and have no plans to stop now. So there.
Also, stay-up stockings are COLD. Get a breeze up your skirt in winter and you FREEZE.
My stockings are my best friends in winter, and I live in them. I even layer them under tights, or under a second pair of stockings. Cotton stockings under nylon stockings – the secret to warm legs, my friends.
But as with even the most wonderful of things, after months of wearing stockings even I get sick of them. They ladder, they occasionally pill, the frequent holes in the toes are frustrating and, let’s face it, by October I’ve usually forgotten that my legs are skin-coloured. So you can imagine my delight when that warm weather sneaks in and allows me to go bare-legged and fancy free.
Seriously, who knew ankles could be so warm with so few layers?
But then...after wandering around at work, doing my morning busywork, I took a seat at my desk. My skirt rode up, just the slightest amount, and I placed my legs, knees together, under the desk.
And my thighs, having amassed a small amount of winter padding, rubbed together.
I’ve been at my desk for almost 4 hours now, resisting the urge to put my knees an inch apart to stop this unpleasant feeling. I am a lady, after all. But it gets me thinking, and thinking gets me missing. And I realise that the celebratory feeling of this morning, where my bare legs frolicked in the fresh air, has been replaced by a desire to go straight home and pull on a fresh pair of stockings.
It’s the small things, people. It's the small things.