Every fashion influencer account I follow seems to have independently come to the conclusion that pantyhose are back as of late, but they all say it in the same patronizing tone that takes the opportunity to remind you that it was never up for debate: pantyhose are back, sheer tights are the new nude lip, stop hauling your old ones from the graveyard and put some on. Or something along those lines. I’ve seen it worded four different ways this week already, and every time I do I roll my eyes so furiously I fear they’ll dislocate. Because what nobody Instagram shoving their new pantyhose in your face wants to tell you is that pantyhose didn’t bow out of fashion wearing their coal black cape dramatically, they limped limply into the trash can, laddered, after one wear and that doesn’t get undone just because a fashion stylist threw them under a slip dress at some runway in Milan.
The maths of an item that dies embarrassingly fast
I bought a three pack of sheer black tights sometime in March because my Instagram had beaten me down, eleven dollars, better brand than most, not something I even bothered inputting into my wardrobe spreadsheet because it felt negligible. Wore the first pair to a dinner with coworkers, snagged them getting into an Uber, full on hole by the time I sat down to order got absolutely nothing to drink, one pair gone in less than two hours. Second pair lasted me four wears before a run began at the toe. Second pair mathes out to about a dollar per wear if I’m rounding up, which I try not to because the real value almost always bothers me more than the rounded value. Third pair has lasted, mostly because now I’m paranoid and treat them like glass, which negates the whole point of having an item in your wardrobe that’s supposed to just live there waiting to be grabbed. Does not break.
That right there is what nobody’s telling you in all the pantyhose trend pieces. When something comes back as a “throwback”, it’s because it was durable enough to come back. You wear that blazer fifty times and it looks basically the same on the fiftieth wear as it did on the first. You cannot do that with pantyhose, they’re literally not built for wear you care about. They’re a literal consumable product, more like a tube of deodorant than a shirt. Sure, wash them gently and they might last you longer than pantyhose of yore, but that doesn’t change the fundamental interactions between a very thin nylony weave and your thighs rubbing together OR the fact that they hit every surface at home like it’s a gymnastic apparatus. My coworker Danielle actually sat me down and told me bluntly she thinks even buying into pantyhose right now is “paying full price to be disappointed twice as fast,” and I didn’t have a smart rebuttal because she’s not wrong. The value per wear of an actually good pair, ones of the kind that have actual reinforcement and cost more than your morning coffee, can look pretty good if you stretch them to eight or nine wears. But when pantyhose come back like they are now, washed in every brand’s Spring 2022 ad campaigns, they aren’t built to last more than the trend they’re riding on. You’re buying into a nostalgia item made of fabric that has a better shelf life than most paperback books.
Nobody’s actually agreed on how you’re meant to wear them
And yet another problem that’s not about the pantyhose but how you wear them, which rules do you actually follow? is that nobody pretending to know what you should wear them with can agree on an answer. Pantyhose worn sheer black under midi skirts with loafers is the “old money pantyhose” trend, according to whoever tweets into the void the most. Opacity pantyhose in colours under slip dresses and thick boots is “grunge revival pantyhose.” Nude pantyhose under slim cut pants for work is “quiet luxury pantyhose,” and I will scream if anyone says that to me without a dash of glittery eye-roll emoji at the end. Three completely different aesthetics being sold as the exact same trope, and if the influencers can’t decide on a solid rule to cling to I don’t know how we little people are supposed to magically guess the correct one.
Truthfully? what’s worked for me, which I arrived at by actually wearing them and not just reading think pieces about them on my couch, is treating them how I would any other semi dressy accessory; as something you don’t wear every day, all the time, for everything you leave the house. Wear them because you have somewhere you need to wear them, not because you saw they were popular on TikTok and it’s 1998 again. Opaque black tights under a wool midi skirt and a blazer for an actual dinner reservation is intentional. The exact same pair of tights under a sundress on a Tuesday is meh-ing it at best and someone who doesn’t know it’s spring 2022 at worst. That intention, wearing them for the right places and occasions vs because you literally can is doing the heavy lifting here. And it’s the one part of leaning into a trend that every single article bends over backwards to avoid because “only wear pantyhose occasionally and for special events, they’ll fall apart” doesn’t LITERALLY COPY AND PASTE me sitting on my front porch and goingeroll that isn’t fun.
Pantyhose are back. Sure. For night outs maybe? With dresses that specifically say “TIGHTS” on the label suggestions? If you reeeeally want to pretend like you just bought them yesterday despite it being garbage almond milk week at Trader Joes and they’re only $8. But I will never trust pantyhose to come back for daily wardrobing the way my feed makes it out to. If you believe they have, good for you! Don’t @ me on my Instagram. I have worn laddered pantyhose home on the subway before, house shoe in one hand bitch slapping myself internally for the entire ride home.
