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November 20, 2007

The history of stockings

Filed under: — Tman @ 3:26 am

The history of stockings (first version)

What goes around, comes around – and that’s never been truer than in the world of high fashion. Stockings may be the hottest garment for the new millennium, but did you know that they actually date back over 400 years?

The story begins in 1589. That was when the English churchman Reverend William Lee invented the world’s first knitting machine and started to make hosiery out of cotton, wool and silk. The machine was a national treasure. In fact, the queen of the day threatened the death penalty for anyone who attempted to export it. It’s a shame this threat couldn’t have been extended for the person who invented tights!

The technology remained reasonably static right until the 1930s, when a new circular knitting machine meant garments could be made in one piece, and no longer needed to be sewn together. Elsewhere in that decade, scientists at the Du Pont company in Delaware, USA started experiments in molecular chemistry that would quite literally change the world.

Julian Hill was one of the scientists in a group led by the brilliant but manic-depressive Wallace Carothers. Hill was looking for a silk substitute, and one day he discovered that by pulling a heated rod from a mixture of coal tar, water and alcohol he could create a filament that was strong, sheer, and silk-like in appearance. Further research led to the first synthetic fibre, which soon came to be known as Polymer 6.6. Two years later, in 1937, Du Pont patented the discovery, but the year was sadly just as memorable for Wallace Carothers’ untimely death. Fatally depressed, he committed suicide shortly after his wife informed him that she was pregnant. As a tribute to his work, Du Pont decided that he – rather than Hill – should be hailed as the inventor of Polymer 6.6, and so a legend was born.

Synthetic fibres were first shown by the company to the public at the World’s Fair in New York in 1939. Taking the NY from the city’s initials, the fibre became known as “nylon”. (Just as well, then, that it wasn’t in San Francisco, as I doubt sflon would have caught on quite as well!)

Nylon was a revelation. The first nylon stockings appeared in New York stores on May 15, 1940. Over 72,000 pairs were sold in the first day alone, and the Japanese silk market collapsed almost overnight. Department stores throughout America saw a similar stampede. In the first year, 64 million pairs of stockings were sold and manufacturers could not keep up with demand.

When the US joined the Second World War in 1942, most nylon production was switched into tent and parachute manufacturing for the military forces. American GIs could still get hold of stockings, though, and they became the gift of seduction as the GIs tried to woo their way into the hearts of British women.

After the war, demand rocketed. The first post-war hosiery sale took place in 1945 in Market Street, San Francisco, and attracted 10,000 shoppers. Throughout the ’40s and ’50s, stockings were known as “fully-fashioned” rather than the single size of most hosiery today. Fully-fashioned stockings were tailored to the shape of the leg, and had a distinctive seam at the back. When women could not afford stockings, or had difficulty getting hold of them, they would often draw a vertical line up the back of their legs to simulate the effect.

Tragically, hosiery entered the dark ages in the 1960s when some misguided soul saw fit to invent tights. Unaware of the health problems we now know tights cause, the unknowing inventors marketed them as a convenient alternative to stockings and the traditional suspender belt. And although tights became the dominant product in the hosiery market for the next 30 years, stockings are now returning to the prominence they enjoyed in the golden era of days gone by.

The history of stockings (second version)

Stockings as we know them began life back in the early 1940s. But we need to go even further back, to 1930, to find out exactly how they came to be. It all started one day in a laboratory in Wilmington, Del…

Julian Hill was a researcher for the DuPont Company who, along with others in the lab, was studying chains of molecules called polymers. They were trying to find a silk substitute. Hill made the discovery that when a heated rod was pulled from a jar containing a mixture of carbon- and alcohol-based molecules, the substance inside stretched. When pulled at room temperature it became silky in appearance.

Everyone in the lab was pretty excited about the discovery, except for Hill’s boss, Wallace Carothers. He just couldn’t imagine a good use for the stuff, and it wasn’t until 1935 that the researchers produced the first genuine nylon, then known as “polymer 6,6.” Two years later DuPont received the patent for the first truly synthetic, artificially made fiber.

Wallace Carothers is the man accredited with inventing nylon, so you might be wondering why Hill didn’t receive the accolades. Wallace Carothers was a brilliant chemist but suffered from chronic depression. In 1937 a few days after his wife told him she was pregnant with their first child, he drove to Philadelphia, checked into a hotel and swallowed cyanide. DuPont responded by heaping praise on him as the inventor of the miracle substance, creating a sort of Carothers legend.

In the meantime, Julian Hill’s discovery became a sensation. It was called nylon because it was first unveiled to the public at the New York World’s Fair in 1939 – the ‘ny’ in nylon stands for New York.

After the invention of nylon, it didn’t take long for nylon stockings to appear. They were first marketed in the early 1940s and were an instant hit. There were stampedes in department stores throughout America, as women couldn’t wait to experience the magic of stockings that wouldn’t bunch or sag. A whopping 64 million pairs of nylon stockings were sold in their first year on the market and the manufacturers couldn’t keep up with the demand.

But nylon’s run as a godsend to women was short-lived. In 1942 nylon joined the war effort. All the available nylon went into the making of powder bags for large artillery, also tent fiber and parachutes. Nylon stockings didn’t completely disappear, though; they became the gift of choice for American GIs trying to impress British women.

When the war was over, the production of nylon stockings started up again and they made a return to the shops, prompting more rushes to take place at the stores as everyone wanted their wonderful nylons again.

Nylon stockings remained popular throughout the 1950s, but were gradually replaced in the 1960s by pantyhose, considered by many to be the work of the devil! Pantyhose suited the modern, fast lifestyle of the day and were said to be more convenient for women than traditional garter belts and real nylons. I don’t agree though – and I don’t expect you do either!

You’ll be pleased to hear that this story ends on a high note. The good news is that nylons are enjoying a surge in popularity at the moment, as more people discover the luxury they offer. Our ambition with this site is to do all we can to continue that trend, and long may it continue!

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part one

As far back as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with legs in nylons. I can’t even really remember how, or exactly when, such a fascination began. It’s just always been. I’ve tried on many occasions to recall the very first incident that caught my attention, and thus begun to make the nylon imprint upon me. In some ways the earliest of mental images are so hazy… so distant… that it’s almost as if the memories were dreams or something. Yet, in other ways, it’s as if the images are of crystal clarity and could almost have happened just last week… or even yesterday. The workings of our memory are a very peculiar thing.

So where did it begin, this life-long love affair? Though the exact times and dates of the events that will be shared for the most part have long since been lost to time… these are images that will no doubt remain with me the rest of my life. It would seem fitting, in the course of trying to piece together a collage of scenes and remembrances (perhaps a better analogy would be to piece together a puzzle), to begin with the earliest of these memories. This then, will be an expose that will attempt to fit together the bits and pieces of the nylonic puzzle that has been assembled in my life, progressing from the earliest onward.

It could be that some of you will find that you almost lived in a parallel universe. Change the names, places, and other such elements, and it could be that you’ve had the same experiences. If that’s so, and if my effort triggers pleasant memories gone-by within you, then that makes the effort worth it for me. Or, perhaps you were not raised in that era where any leg you saw that was wearing nylon was clad in stockings, and this gives you just a glimpse of what it was like… then that too, makes it worthwhile. Lastly, for you ladies: perhaps it will give you a tiny bit of insight as to why some of us men are so ridiculously silly about stockings. Why we will spend exorbitant amounts of money to place stockings on that special lady in our lives… and then fall under their spell so completely and easily. If it enlightens you as well, then it’s been worth it.

Lastly, consider this a work in progress, for through the kindness of my very special lady and wife, nylonic experiences are still being transformed into memories. And for that, I perpetually owe her a profound “thank you”, which I assure you, has been given to her by yours truly over and over.

The Nifty Fifties

I don’t recall how it came into my possession, or where it came from, but even before I’d started to school (which would place the date before 1957), I remember holding, and examining a single nylon stocking. I remember how wispy and delicate it was… I remember the dark honey coloured toe and heel area. I was old enough to know what it was… but not old enough to understand my odd fascination with it. I was old enough to know that this was part of a woman’s personal attire, but not old enough to understand the strange stirrings taking place within my childish self as I handled and touched it. I did not know the “whys”… but I knew there was an unusual feeling of pleasurable sensations that coursed through me as I continued to fondle and examine.

I also recall fragmented images that go as far back as Kindergarten, which would place the images in the year 1957. My teacher was of German descent, and I vaguely recall her being maybe 40ish. Her exact facial features I can’t recall, but in retrospect, the images I do recall indicate that she was not overly heavy for her age, but not exactly “trim”. But I definitely remember the stockings she wore. They were always a tan coloured stocking, that had a reinforced area that ran up the back of her heel a ways, and they were seamed. I now know these to be “Full Fashioned stockings”, but at the time, they were just “stockings”. She didn’t wear “spike heels”, but instead wore a more serviceable type of heeled shoe. I also remember print dresses.

One such K-grade image sounds quite improbable, and indeed sounds like a fictional contrivance… but once you understand the circumstances surrounding it, it becomes more understandable. You see, during that time, it was common for the K-grade classes to have “Nap Time”. We all had a little mat-like affair that stayed at the school room.

When “Nap Time” came, we would be instructed to get our mats, unfolding them and laying them on the floor, and then “nap”. I seldom napped… it’s hard for an excitable 5 year old to “sleep on demand” you know. Anyway, one Nap Time session, I distinctly recall laying near the teacher’s desk. Laying on my stomach there on my mat, I had innocently turned my head and it was facing her desk. As was typical for the day, her desk was made of heavy oak, and was almost fully enclosed on the sides and front, thus, the desk legs were only about 8″ long. But laying on the floor, I could clearly see the floor beneath the desk… including Mrs. Doughfitz’s feet.

On this day, in this image, I recall that she had slipped off her shoes as she sat at her desk reading. I distinctly remember the reinforced toe area, and undersole of her full fashioned nylon stockings. Unconscious of her movement, one of her feet would slowly move up her instep, lightly tracing along with her toes…. almost as if slowly attending to a slight itch. As she did, I could just barely hear the whisper quiet “swishing” of nylon on nylon. If she was not doing this action, then her ankles were crossed, and she would simply wriggle her toes slowly. As she would, the nylon would ripple and straighten, ripple and straighten. Laying there, watching this privately viewed, and certainly unintentional display, that odd sensation crept through me again. It was like that feeling I mentioned above when I was looking at that nylon curiosity, only perhaps it was stronger this time? I laid there in silent fascination, and watched her nyloned feet all through “Nap Time”. Of course, at my age at the time, I had no clue as to why I was finding this so attention riveting, nor did I know why it was oddly pleasurable to watch. But at that age, these things didn’t seem to matter… I simply watched. Odd though, I was cognisant enough of this show privately being espied by yours truly, that I was quite careful to remain incognito as I visually indulged.

Perhaps it was images like this that began forming and moulding my earliest association of things sensual? I honestly don’t know… but something had an influence. I even remember a dream I had once… could it have been influenced by some scene as above? (For it would have been in this same general time frame.)

Apparently, I had watched an old black and white movie on TV, and one portion of it had the hero and heroine lost in a jungle. Of course, as was common in those old movies, the heroine was in a skirt and blouse, complete with high heels. Well, that night in my sleep, I dreamed that I was seeing my K-grade teacher in that same scene, as she was also trying to find her way (I guess) through a jungle. But the thing that stands out most in my memory of this dream, is that she was wearing nylons (which, in keeping with her day to day choice, would have been full fashioned stockings… but I can’t recall that particular dream detail)… yet she was bare foot, having shed or lost her shoes? I recall in that dream that there was an abundance of runners in her tan stockings. And that’s all I recall upon my awaking. But so profound was the dream to me as a youngster, that to this day I still remember that images from it. Strange.

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part two

As the years began to move along, I began to be more and more attuned to nyloned legs. And the wonderful part about my childhood (even into my late teens, though not as prevalent as my elementary years) was the fact that nylon stockings were a way of life for the average American woman. Therefore, I was exposed to them often, at school (on teachers), at churches, in the stores (the lady clerks, as well as some of the ladies that were shopping)… everywhere. It was wonderful!

I don’t have any specific images of stockinged ladies from the latter part of my elementary school years (the “gray years”) that are distinct enough to be shared. There’s the nondescript types of images of certain legs crossed, or walking, that sort of thing… but nothing that poignantly stands out.

During these years, I do recall my older sister’s 16th birthday party. Mom made it into a big deal, what with a live band and all. Therefore, there were lots of young couples, and I don’t recall one of the young ladies that wasn’t wearing a skirt or dress outfit… which meant stockings! I also remember the funky hairdos typical of the early ’60s abounding on said young misses, as well as those flats with the pointed toes that were popular at the time.

But in regards to the nylon path we are retracing, there is a somewhat vague era in my nylon sojourn in my latter elementary years where the memorable markers along the way are not quite distinct. But that would all change once I entered Junior High.

An amazing transformation happens during that summer between sixth and seventh grade: You discover girls!

True, throughout my earlier years I had discovered a fascination with ladies in nylons, but they were always on “women”… members of the opposite sex that were essentially unattainable. They were in an entirely different stratos of the social level. They were “grown up” and I was a kid. Thus, though I found them pretty, and their nylon adorned legs enchanting… they were only objects in which to dream of. But girls my age? (Before seventh grade.) Nuisances. Pests in which retaliation and rivalry existed. They wore ankle socks, “little girl” skirts/dresses. At the school playground during recess, they wanted to play dolls right where us guys wanted to play football. They were The Enemy.

But something happens in the summer between that sixth and seventh grade year. What a change a summer can make!

And their nylons… the way they wore their nylons! Young legs trying to wear women’s hosiery too soon. It was typical fare for there to be multiple creases at the bend of their ankles, ripples of nylon up above the heel of their foot, loose nylon just below their knees when standing, wrinkles just below their calves… you name it, I saw it! By the end of a long day at school, their stockings could be quite the worse for the wear. I’ve seen it all on Jr. Miss! From multiple runners to reinforced heels twisted up onto the inside of her heel, to ripples at the knees, calves, ankles… or all! In a word: Everything! And to think, I used to complain about our school system’s “Dress Code”! (i.e. The Dress Code: No shorts on boys or girls, shirt tails tucked in on the boys, girls to wear dresses or skirts/blouses only, etc.) In sixth grade such a dress code was a pain, but now that I was in seventh grade… the dress code would cater specifically to my evolving nylon leg tastes by encouraging the Jr. Miss’ to wear nylon stockings! After all, it was now “childish” for a Jr. Miss to wear ankle socks. Thus, the peer pressure around her was to “grow up” and wear nylons as any “grown” woman does.

I must have been born at exactly the right time and in the right place. For not only was there a Dress Code that inadvertently encouraged nylon stockings to be worn by the young female students, but it was nearing the mid-’60s, one of the most ideal times for nylon lovers everywhere. During the mid-’60s, there was no such thing as readily available pantyhose… therefore any nylon you saw belonged to a stocking. BUT…the greatest advent to hit at that time, and turned out to be a stocking lovers delight for a short season was: the mini skirt. Can you think of a better combination than being surrounded by careless Jr. Misses’, and almost all of them beginning to wear shorter and shorter skirts… YET wear said short skirts with stockings?

Truly the golden era

And this voyeuristic nylon environment would be “my world” for the next 6 years. Years that would be instrumental in determining what I associated with “sensual”. Why, so short were some of the skirts, that sometimes if you followed a short distance behind a girl down the hall during class change, you would actually see stocking tops flashing from beneath the short skirt with each step she took. I have even seen soft white flesh as they would ascend stairs ahead of me! (More prevalent with stockings that had very narrow top welts.)

Accenting that wondrous change that takes place, is a scene still in my mind concerning a one-year younger Miss that was my next door neighbour: Lisa. One summer, she’s “one of the guys”, rough-housing with the best of us. Then, off to Jr. High she goes. Next thing I know, I see her getting off the bus after school, and walking across her lawn. She’s wearing a short little red plaid dress… and as she walks across the lawn headed for her door, she drops a book. With her backside toward me, she bends over to retrieve it. The plaid dress rides way up above her short stockings. Not only is the entire welt visible, but also the garter straps… and her soft white thighs! I never looked at Lisa with the same “little girl” mentality again. But now, on most school days, she could be found wearing nylons. From there on out, her legs were to be checked out at every available opportunity.

One class I was in had those combination chairs w/half-desks arranged in a semi circle. I sat on one side of the circle… this would place the desks opposite facing me. One of the Jr. Misses’ (her name was Joanie) sat across from me. Joanie had a tendency to cross her legs (and swing the crossed leg briskly). This combination of the shortness of her attire and that swinging leg, would make her short little skirt or dress ride high up her thigh, exposing the underside of her stockinged leg for my hungry, but discreet, staring eyes. Often were the times that I could not only see the top of her stocking, but also the underside of her tender thigh above the stocking top. Some days, the show was so exquisite, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to what was being taught by the school teacher… but I was sure being taught what was sensual and erotic by another very youthful (and quite unaware) teacher!

In a school of students numbering in the hundreds, you usually can’t learn everyone’s name. But I would often know a young miss by the type of stockings she most often wore. I got quite proficient at discerning the differences.

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part three

Pure, 100% nylon stockings were the rule, as “stretchable” stockings were not mainstream. With 100% nylon stockings, there were two dominant types by this time (full fashioned stockings having slipped into the background) and they were: “Sheer” weave, and “mesh” weave.

Sheers were woven in a square (or rectangle) weave pattern, thus the “grain” of the nylon ran up and down the length of the stocking. Sheers of the time were almost always of the reinforced heel and toe variety. However the shape of the toe area, as well as the heel area, could differ significantly between brands.

Mesh stockings were woven in a “diamond” pattern. Mesh stockings were developed to add “stretch-ability” to a stocking made of 100% nylon, for nylon does not readily stretch. Mesh stockings were also widely available with reinforced heel and toe (RH&T), but also quite commonly available only as reinforced toe. (RT). Mesh stockings’ “stretch-ability” advantage over sheer weave stockings was very limited in actual use, for they still creased and rippled.

Sheers gave more “glisten” when the light reflected off them, and the square weave pattern was quite evident if close enough. Sheers felt very smooth to the touch. Also, sheer stockings gave a quiet “swishing” sound if the young miss happened to rub her legs together.

Mesh stockings didn’t have as much glisten, and if close enough to see, the diamond weave pattern was evident. Also, they did not feel as smooth to the touch as sheer. And when a pair of legs wearing mesh stockings were rubbed together, there was more of a “rasping” sound. For cost reasons, the majority of the Jr. Misses wore mesh type stockings. (Mesh stockings were cheaper than sheer.)

Goodness, I can remember how those Jr. Misses would drive me crazy just being around them! Simple things, like standing in a lunch line for example, and in front of me there could be two or three young ladies in line, talking, standing relaxed. As I would stand there, and discreetly glance downward…

One could be wearing a brown shade of mesh stockings, reinforced heel variety, with penny loafers. There would be several creases across the top of her instep… just below her calves would be a ripple or two of loose fitting nylon… same for her knee areas. The other could have on honey coloured sheer stockings… again with the ever-present creases at the ankle, ripples and sags… maybe a runner going up one stocking. And the last young lady could be wearing coffee coloured stockings… mesh type, but with a nude heel.

How do I know they are nude heels? Because the heel area has moved around to the inside of her foot on one stocking causing a large area of creases and folds! Oh yes, this one has a runner fully 1/4″ wide, that comes up from under one of her heels, and disappears out of sight. (We guys used to call runners “beaver trails”… because it traced a “trail” up to her “beaver”! Yes, I now agree that such was quite immature and denegrating to the opposite sex.)

And so it was for the next six years of my Junior and Senior high days. No one had to tell me that these were the good old days! School was a nylonic voyeurism delight for this young man! In fact, there are simply too many nylon vignettes in my mind to share within scope of this essay! Besides… if I were to try to sit down and recall each and every one at one sitting… I don’t know if I could, for logistic reasons, as well as having clear and accurate memories concerning.

However, I remember one vignette that is a bit different from the other “School Daze” memories…

Before I share it, you first need to understand that the city school I went to had grown to the point that it had assimilated a nearby former elementary school building. It was a couple blocks from the main building (which also had an “annex” built on to accommodate the growth.) Thus, one or more of your classes might be at the “McElroy Dagg” elementary school building turned High School. (Called “Dagg” because of the elementary school’s name.) This was fine and dandy as long as the weather was nice. But it could be miserable during inclement weather and you had to walk the two blocks to or from “Dagg”.

Well, in this particular stocking vignette in my mind, it was pouring rain outside. I’m not talking about just a rain, I’m talking about a deluge that soaks everything. Thankfully, I was in the main building in the hall by the main entrance, and groups of students were clamoring in through the doors, ending their wild, wet dash, from “Dagg”.

One group of Jr. Misses came running in… books held over their heads… and were squealing in protest at their misfortune. The impressionable thing in my mind is the way that my eyes were immediately drawn to their wet stockings. Their nylons glistened from the downpour and splashing water they had just run through for the two blocks. As they continued to lament their plight, one Miss reached down and pulled off a penny loafer, and emptied the water out.

To this day, I can still see the beautiful tan color of her nylons, can still see the rivulets of water running down her glistening stocking, over the soaked creases of nylon… and dripping profusely off her drenched toes! Needless to say, I paused incognito near a locker and watched the scene unfold as she also emptied the other shoe. Ah… what days!

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part four

However, not all of my memories during this time come from school girls, though. Some are from very unexpected places. This one from my Jr. High years for example…

My first “inside” employment (as opposed to “outside” employment: i.e. mowing lawns, etc.) came about when I had just turned 14. My father owned a supermarket in the suburbs of the large mid-western city where we lived. After I’d served my apprenticeship tending the grounds (keeping the parking lot clean, hedges trimmed, etc.), I was “promoted” and went to work on the inside. My first assignment was to help in the store’s delicatessen.

During this time, dad hired a new manager for that department. She was a more mature lady (maybe mid 50s?) and via a divorce, single. Though she was 50-something, she still had a nice figure, with maybe just a bit more derriere than “perfect”, but still, not bad at all. She was not a small breasted woman either, but amply endowed. She wore a bra that did an admirable job of lifting her, and displayed her nicely graced abundance in an appealing way. (The bra gave a pronounced pointed nature to them. Quite pleasing at the time.) Her overall effect was that of giving the appearance of being sensually oriented.

Adding to this aura, was the bright red lipstick she wore, the make up that was a bit on the heavy side, the obviously dyed black hair… oh yes, and she smoked. She would call a man “Honey” when talking to him, and seemed friendly when talking to particular males… VERY friendly.

If this wasn’t enough to enhance her mystique, then I might as well mention that the working “uniform” for the ladies in the deli department were white work dresses, similar to a nurses attire, made of thin “seersucker”(?) material. These “uniforms” had a split in the back for walking and stooping purposes. (As for my “official” attire it was to be clean and unfaded blue jeans or slacks, white shirt, and tie.) Further reinforcing the image that she thought about things sensual more than the typical female of her maturity, was the fact that she would wear her work outfits very, very tight, and shorter than most women of her age. (Above mid knee.) I recall that she apparently didn’t wear a slip underneath it either.

In spite of all of this though, her attribute that most caught my attention was her legs. They were amazingly smooth and without flaw, and quite shapely with nice trim ankles and well proportioned calves. This fact is made more impressive when you once again take into account her maturity.

But the real “piece de resistance”, the real frosting on the cake, was her choice of stockings. Her stockings were always a beautiful dark suntan brown shade. They too, were of the mesh type. Given the combination of that tight dress (made of thin white material), and the lack of a slip beneath, made for some interesting moments for me.

In retrospect, I guess you might could say she was a bit “trashy” looking. But, I might add that (for some reason) I found it “delightfully trashy”. She was unlike any of the women I had been around in my family, or at church and the like. (And, truth be known, I think I find women with dual roles “fascinating”. That is, on the one hand she’s a nice, classy looking lady… yet at other times… can be quite the “tramp”. The former could be typified by her wearing modestly applied facial make-up, a knee length skirt and blouse in subdued colors, beige seamless stockings, and conservative shoes. The latter would be when she wears heavy make-up with bright lipstick, a black tight fitting and short dress, black full fashioned seamed stockings that fit a bit too loose, and outrageous spike heels. Both personas can drive me nuts!)

Anyway, I remember well how, when this mature deli manager would bend over to attend to something under the counter, and her tight dress would cup her behind, stretching tightly across it (revealing the faint image of her white panty girdle underneath). Thus presented to my gaping stare, her nicely rounded derriere would look its most appealing. But as “interesting” as that was… it was those stockings that would quickly capture my attention during such an encounter. You see, that tight dress would ride up high on her legs, and the hem would pull up in the back. Because of these combination of things, and that split in the back, often were the times I was not only afforded a delightful view of her nice derriere, but I could also see her stocking tops, and at times even her garter clasps and soft white skin. Whoa.

Sometimes, the cola dispenser would run amuck… and I would be called upon to fix it. This would require me squatting down (or getting on my knees) to reach under the counter top, and change out either the product or gas canisters. Of course, this always happened when a customer (or customers) was being waited on, and their drink was being drawn. So, as she would attend the needs of the customer (or customers), I would be beneath the counter fumbling with the cola canisters. This would mean, that as she waited the counter, she would at times be standing next me while I was down there. There wasn’t an abundance of room, and sometimes she would lean over my way to hand a sandwich to a customer… her leg nearest me would press against me. Under such conditions, I’ve had such a close look at her stocking covered legs, that I could easily see every detail… the diamond weave pattern of her mesh stockings… the subtle ripples of nylon beneath her knees… the creases at her ankles… everything. In such an encounter, I don’t recall ever rising back up until after she was finished and had moved to another area. I swear, if she stood there the rest of the afternoon… I think that’s how long it would have taken me to “fix” the cola dispenser!

At other times, I would be cleaning beneath the serving counter, moving the stock items, and wiping out the counters underneath. Obviously, I would again be at a lower level. I can remember scenes where she would be getting some item from underneath another part of the counter down a ways from me, and she would squat down to do so. Sometimes her legs happened to be facing me! During some of those times, I ALMOST got to see her most secretive area. For sure, I could see lots of stocking top, garter, and thigh.

I loved my job.

Looking back, I know what was adding to the eroticism for me. Yes, she was nicely built for her maturity. Yes, she gave the visual impression of being quite experienced and flirtatious (an arousing aspect in itself), and yes, she was “delightfully trashy”, but these elements by themselves would not have been sufficient to cause the sensations inside of me I was sensing. No, it was the stockings pure and simple. And, even back then, I think I knew it. But nevertheless, it was quite disconcerting to me at the time, to find myself secretly devouring the sights she was placing before me.

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part five

Now, it was somewhere through this time of my life that I started getting introduced to erotic magazines. One of my friends had an older brother living at home who would buy various publications. Fortunately, my friend would sneak out the older issues, and we would hungrily devour them! The pictures therein simply reinforced my mental association I was making between nylons and sexuality. For almost without fail, the women therein were wearing stockings. This was before the lax, unimaginative obscenity laws of today, as there were many restrictions as to just what, and just how, a woman’s attributes could be displayed. Thus, the photographer and model had to be more creative to portray that certain acts were taking place, and had to seek to employ a long lost faculty among today’s eroticism: The imagination.

Usually, they tried to accomplish this with a pictorial “series” article. That is, a particular “scene” would contain several pictures as the action progressed. One of the ways the photographer and model would convey a wild solo experience would involve the nylons she would be wearing. As the scene would progress to the point that she was as unclad and exposed as she could legally be, the stockings would leave the impression that she was frolicking with great abandon. Typically, by the last pictures, her nylons would be quite twisted and sagging, often the relaxed portions gathering significantly above her ankles. To reinforce the impression that she had been cavorting on that bed with sensual abandon, one or two of her garters would be unfastened, which would add even more to the disarray of her stockings. It is unfathomable how many times I experienced auto eroticism while staring at the most arousing of the pictures. Well, the most arousing picture for that encounter! (For it would change from encounter to encounter.)

Through all of this, what with the Jr. Misses of school and their loose fitting stockings, in conjunction with the erotic magazine pictures of sensual women in their twisted and ravaged nylons, the message began to be subtly imprinted indelibly into my erotic mechanisms:

Wrinkled stockings = erotic.

And, it’s an imprint that is just as powerful to me now as then, maybe even more so. As the wrinkled nylon eroticism was being quietly imprinted into my mind, another item was not-so-quietly imprinted also. And that is…

As guys get thoroughly in the grips of puberty’s hormones, it becomes quite natural for those guys to talk about girls. In my circle of fellows, we would do this often. One time we were talking about our favourite turn-ons. We all agreed that a nice looking behind definitely got the juices flowing, some really liked breasts, etc. Well, since we were all talking about our turn-ons, and feeling I was among sexually-minded friends making their inner most feelings bare, I told them that I also found a girl in stockings very arousing.

Mistake.

For some odd reason, I was ridiculed for my tastes! The next day as we waited at the school bus stop, a rather plain looking young lady who lived in the neighbourhood was walking toward the stop area. One of my “friends” looked at me and blurted out…

“Whoa dude.. there she is! Better go get her! She’s wearing stockings!”

Like lemmings blindly follow the lemming in front of them, my other “friends” that were privy to the matter laughed in appreciation of the remark, and joined in the ridicule. So much for close friends.

Lesson: Don’t ever tell another soul. EVER.

But it had left its mark. The message I received loud and clear was: “They” were “normal”, because pure female nudity was the ultimate in arousal for them. “I” was a “weirdo” because I found nyloned legs ADDED TO the arousing attributes of a woman. From that point on, my fascination with nylons began to be a part of me that I was uncomfortable with, and such a nylon fascination was never, ever, verbalized again to any contemporary male friend(s) or any of the young ladies I was to date.

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part six

Remember me telling you about that mature lady I was fascinated with? You know the one that I can’t remember her name? Well, I sure remember this name: Brenda.

A while after the Deli and the Mature Lady, I was “promoted” to stock boy. Soon, I became friends with an older guy who worked at dad’s store named Riley. Mainly, because he was sort of humorous and fun to be around. Well, one day, as I was working at the store, in came this bombshell with long, straight black hair. It turned out to be his daughter! And, though she didn’t look it, she was one year younger than me! I had a crush on her immediately. From that time on, I would keep my eyes open for her, hoping she would stop by to tell her dad something, or with her mom as they got groceries.

Somehow, my mom found out about it. And, as most mom’s, she thought is was “cute” that her “little boy” liked a “little girl”. (If she only KNEW what her “little boy” was fantasising about concerning that “little girl”! Shoot, if she only knew what her “little boy” was doing with the hidden erotic magazines in the downstairs den! And she’d die for sure if she knew I had often fantasised about our Deli woman, complete with indulging in auto-eroticism!) Well, to make a long story short… mom suggested I invite her along with us to an open air theatre that was a big deal in that city. (I wasn’t old enough to drive.) Vicki Carr was starring in a musical. (Was it “South Pacific”?) While at work the next time, I hinted all around about it to her dad… hoping for a word of encouragement. Finally, after a few days, I mustered the courage and (with much trepidation!) called and invited her. She said yes!

Nerves working overtime, (I was dressed in a black sport suit with a white turtle neck… very debonair!), I knocked on the door. When it opened, I nearly died! She was very provocative looking, dark eyes outlined with jet black eye-liner, that long black hair and the shortest dress I believe I’d ever seen! And mercy her legs… loooong legs… adorned in beautiful dark brown nylons! Escorting her to the car, my heart pounding, I opened the rear door for her and she slid in. As she did… her mini slid up above her stocking tops… I could even see the white garter clasps! They weren’t your typical stockings with a wide top welt. Instead, it looked like they were very long, and the tops had been folded and clasped. Thus, instead of seeing a stocking top proper… the garters were attached to folded stocking. They were definitely mesh weave, I could see the diamond weave as it reflected the light. Plus, they sounded very “raspy” when her legs would rub together, a sure sign of mesh weave.

All the way there (shoot, all evening long!), she would often tug at her dress hem in an effort to keep the tops of her stockings from showing. But (much to my delight) it was quite a vain effort! For though she could pull at it to where she couldn’t see the tops from her “down on” vantage point… I could see them easily from the side! Plus, while at the theater, her attention would be on the action taking place on the stage, but my attention was discreetly riveted on her legs! Many times during the performance, I could see a front garter clasp… only to look away quickly when she realized it, and tugged again. I do believe I spent the entire evening with an erection. And EVERY time she got in or out of the car… it was a sublime show of too much leg and not enough dress! Seeing as we were with mom and dad, the most daring thing I was able to do was hold her hand… but that in itself was quite an exciting event! (Hey, I was still a child! Besides, being accomplished at “making out” wasn’t yet in my repertoire!)

All too soon, the evening was over (but not until my parents shot some pics of us at the house)… and we had to take her home. I thought (or hoped?) the night had gone well.

After I got home from school early on in the following week, I gave her a call… hoping that we were beginning to be an item, and maybe ask her to a movie. (She went to a different Jr. High than I did.) She acted odd on the phone… not very talkative. After some awkward conversational attempts on my part, she flatly told me she was going steady with a guy several grades above me…. he was here… did I want to talk to him?

Bummer. I “sort of” knew the guy, and after having a very stilted, and short, conversation with him, (explaining that I did not know of her relationship) I hung up the phone… and felt like a total idiot. After I was in High School a few years later, through some friends that knew her and her boyfriend, I found out that her dad had made her go with me in the hope of gaining some “brownie points” with my parents. (Dad owned the supermarket where he worked, remember?)

She had not wanted to go.

Memoirs of a stockings enthusiast – part seven

I’ve always liked the shoe danglers. For some reason, girls (even some women) dangle their shoes when sitting. Closely akin to this are those that will subconsciously slip their foot in and out of their shoe (while sitting or standing still). Either way, I always enjoyed such activity while at school.

In High School, there was a girl who sat beside me at the long table in Study Hall. Study Hall was considered the students’ time, thus we could use it wisely, or waste it… our call.

I used it VERY wisely: I would sleep! But it wasn’t really “sleep” most of the time. Instead, I would feign being asleep. (And not without reason, as you shall shortly read!) The technique was simple, yet quite effective: I would fold my arms and place them on the table top, then lean over and rest my forehead thereon. Arms and head placed “just so”… I could look down at the floor… and see the legs and feet of the Miss beside me. But the best thing of all… it could not be seen that I was playing the voyeur.

I loved it.

In such a state of “sleep”, I would enjoy her podiaphilic delights as she would slip her stockinged foot in and out of her penny loafer or slip-on flats. In my mind, I can still see the dark brown reinforced toe areas as she’d slip her feet from inside her shoes… and place them on top of her shoes. Or, she would have her legs crossed, and on her elevated foot… would slip the heel of her shoe off… letting it dangle. Then, by adeptly flexing her toes, slip it back on… over and over again. The nylon would make whisper sounds as the shoe leather slid on and off her stockinged heel, as well as rippling and dancing about her ankle as she flexed it about.

My life at that time was filled with nylonic experience. My days at school were surrounded by stockinged young ladies. Some of my work environs were filled with visual stocking erotica (The Deli Days). And now that I’d unleashed the nylon demon within… most of my evenings included some form of erotic release that included nylon stimulation: Either actual, or visual, or both!

I was definitely under the influence of a very powerful natural Viagra named “testosterone”, and was certainly falling under the trance of the spell binding nature of nylons. However during a private intimate encounter at hand, I was not really minding it at all. Yes, it was a time in my private life that hormones ruled, and restraint was simply not there. But no way, not even at threat of death, would I EVEN consider the thought of telling another soul about my nylon fascination.

Thus, during this period of my youthful lifetime, when at the home alone, my downstairs “den” would often become a private sex parlor as I would retrieve from hiding my stash of erotic literature and purveyed nylons… and unleash my vivid imagination. That time of my life was a torrid series of private explorations. Self-control was all but non-existant. But it was my own private world, and at the time… a private world that was almost overwhelming. Obviously, I was still struggling mightily with puberty, and appeared to be losing the battle… but at the time didn’t really seem to mind!

Then dad dropped a bombshell: We were moving…

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