Mysterious Death of Pantyhose

Notes on Love & Laundry

Dear Notes on Love and Laundry Readers,

Happy Fall! All across the land, the Nikki's of America are back at Target with school supply shopping lists, searching for that clear, plastic, six-inch ruler and the red folder without prongs.

In addition to the mysteries of the Oddly and Irritatingly Specific School Supply List, I offer another mystery for you to ponder.

If you know the answer, hit reply and tell me, because I have spent a great deal of time over the past few years trying to unravel (cue the dramatic and creepy music) ...

The Strange and Mysterious Death of Pantyhose

Let me set the scene:

We were getting ready to attend a funeral. My mother came into the living room appropriately attired for this solemn occasion in a dress and heels.

Clearly, my mother hadn't gotten the news.

I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, we don't have to do that anymore."

"It's over," my sister whispered.

My mother looked alarmed. "What's over?"

"Pantyhose," we said in unison.

My mother gasped. "You mean I can go to a funeral without wearing pantyhose?"

I gave my mother a solemn nod. "Our long national nightmare is finally over."

My mother sat down on the sofa, clearly stunned. "But...how did this happen?"

My sister and I didn't know the answer. No one does.

But somehow, somewhere, someone liberated us all from the Tyranny of Pantyhose. 

My mother rose from the sofa, went into the bedroom, removed her pantyhose and threw them in the trash. "That's the best news I've heard all day."

No one knows exactly when it happened. There isn't a National Let's All Stop Wearing Pantyhose Day on the calendar.

There were no mass demonstrations on the National Mall in D.C. where women set fire to their Barely There or Natural Nude or Shimmering Pearl pantyhose.

No one pelted the president or members of Congress with plastic L'eggs Eggs (remember those?) demanding a constitutional amendment outlawing pantyhose.

And there is no Joan of Arc of Pantyhose who stormed the barricades singing that song from Les Misérables.

But something happened. Because during my working years, pantyhose were an essential part of the work wardrobe, just like black pumps and a suit from Ann Taylor.

We wore pantyhose in the newsroom when we anchored and reported. We wore them on Capitol Hill as we carried press releases and bills onto the floor of the House and Senate, and we wore them at the Department of Commerce when we travelled to China for trade talks.

All kinds of work, done everywhere by women clad in pantyhose.

Then I "retired" to stay home with my children. And at some mysterious point between then, and now, a quiet revolution sprang to life in the world of women's undergarments.

Let's pause for a moment to reflect on the sheer awfulness (pun intended) of pantyhose.

During World War II, both silk and nylon were vital to the war effort, and women's stockings were in short supply, which led women to draw lines down the back of their bare legs to mimic the seams on silk stockings.

But after the war, "improvements" in nylon technology led a man named Allen E. Gant to invent something he called "Panti-legs." And nylon pantyhose were born.

As we all vividly recall, nylon pantyhose were prone to "runs" or a little ladder of torn material that started small and then grew, running up your leg from your big toe, broadcasting to the world that you were not the polished, put-together woman you wanted everyone to think you were.

We tried, ineffectually, to fix these runs with nail polish or hairspray in the ladies room when we discovered them ten minutes after arriving at work.

But those nylon pantyhose with their snags and runs always got the best of us. They lay coiled and tangled in everyone's underwear drawer like a den of snakes, just waiting for an opportunity to make you dash into CVS on the way to work to buy a new pair when you were already running late.

Pantyhose were hot in the summer. They bagged around the knees. They bunched around the waist. They were an awful and required part of being a grown woman with a real job.

I know so many women who've described a certain period of their lives this way. "I had to drive downtown to the office every day, and I had to wear pantyhose."

"I had to wear pantyhose" is shorthand for "I had a tough job with a tough boss. I had zero flexibility, no work-life balance, and a ton of stress." That's what "and I had to wear pantyhose" really means.

And now...it's done. Gone. Bare legs for everyone. Except apparently Kate Middleton. I've heard she is still required by the duties of the crown to wear pantyhose.

I've always loved Kate Middleton, and I've always wanted to be a member of the Royal family, waving from the balcony of Buckingham Palace in an enormous hat on major public holidays.

But now I'm not so sure. Would I rather be a commoner with bare legs or a member of the royal family with a vacation home on the island of Mustique in pantyhose?

I honestly have to think about that.

Perhaps it's enough to know that my 14-year-old daughter will graduate from 8th grade and have confirmation this year, two major life events commemorated without pantyhose. The cycle of discomfort and L'eggs Eggs is broken at last.

So let us raise our coffee cups this morning and toast the unknown woman who liberated us from the corset, the anonymous woman who ended the tyranny of the girdle, and the valiant and unsung woman who liberated us from pantyhose. On behalf of a grateful nation, we salute you.

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Book News

I just sent a few chapters of The Next Book off to my agent. She's been reading and sending me thoughts. I'm typing as fast as I can between back-to-school nights, flu, strep, and Covid tests, and college move-in trips.

I'll admit that coming up with this next book has been hard. I want The Next Book to include all the humor and suspense and relatability everyone loves in Friends with Secrets. So many of you have sent me lovely emails or took the time to leave a positive review and I'm determined to repay all that cosmic kindness with the best Next Book possible. No pressure or anything :-)

So keep your fingers crossed, say a prayer, and stay tuned :-)

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Band of Mothers

My mom friends (without secrets) have hosted a number of wonderful launch events for Friends with Secrets here in Alexandria, Virginia where I live and where the book is set.

I'm also having a total blast (as we used to say in the '80's) attending book club meetings. If you enjoyed Friends with Secrets,  please consider choosing it for your book club.

I can Zoom into your meeting, or I can attend in person bearing cookies if you live in Virginia, Maryland, or D.C.

So, that's all the news that's fit to print, a probably a great deal that isn't. Thank you so much for subscribing to Notes on Love and Laundry. If you know someone who might enjoy this newsletter, feel free to forward and pass it on.

Next month I'll be including scenes cut from Friends with Secrets, including one where Nikki explains why she always eats dessert first.

Until then, enjoy this increasingly cozy weather, and the books and cups of tea that go with it...Jane Austen weather, as the dog and I like to call it.

As ever,

Christine

Reunited with beloved friends from my Pantyhose Era at the Friends with Secrets book launch party.

The fabulous hostesses of the book launch party. We met when our kids started kindergarten. Now those kids are college freshman and high school juniors. We of course, have not aged :-)

Beautiful book launch event hosted by Lisa Camooso-Miller of the Friday Reporter Podcast, a fellow mom and friend from my Durable Goods/GDP days at the Commerce Department.

With Phyllis and Brittany Patterson, fabulous mother-daughter entrepreneurs at a book event in historic, Old Town Alexandria. George Washington didn't necessarily sleep here, but he definitely slept in one of the buildings down the block.

Band of Mothers: A wonderful event wedged in between Back-to-School nights in my friend Lee's beautiful backyard in Old Town. We talked about writing and the publishing process and making time to do what you love while microwaving chicken nuggets and raising a family.

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