Topic 180: Fashion Bondage

Carol:

Of Human (Fashion) Bondage

I suppose this topic cries out for a sophisticated X-treatment of behaviors that create a niche for black, leather, chain, fishnet  and skimpiness, I know about those things only because my husband tried to take a photo in San Diego of his old apartment building from the 1960’s with his new Android phone, and he took one of” the black, leather, chain, fishnet and skimpiness” store below the apartment. Oh yeah, so I’m not really that naïve, but I do have a nagging concern that someday I will put the wrong combination of words into a daily theme that will link to that huge subterranean digital world of people who take photos of people who buy things from “the black, leather, chain, fishnet and skimpiness” store.

So, yesterday was Father’s Day and we took the Father out to dinner at a nice but fairly empty restaurant around 5 p.m. I guess today’s topic was on some of our minds because Megan and I got into a discussion of the evolution of stockings and garters to pantyhose and tights. When I was in high school, panty hose had not been invented and teen-age girls wore girdles, which are to me one of the worst forms of fashion bondage. By the time I was ready to graduate from college, panty hose had been invented and they increased in popularity as more women entered the workforce. The contortions involved in puttiing on a pair of pantyhose were even worse than pulling on stockings and a girdle, and sometimes a fingernail positioned in the wrong place would start a ladder up the leg of the hose before I had even finished dressing. For emergencies clear plastic nail polish could stop a ladder from expanding.  By the time I was working full time as a college teacher, I was buying 10-packs of pantyhose (nude, suntan, black and off-white) via catalog. I was also wearing heels and professional suits, another form of fashion bondage that was expected in the 80’s and 90’s.
 

Somewhere along the way to the 21st century, “work clothes” took on a new, relaxed meaning and apparently pantyhose are on the decline, replaced by bare legs, “dress down Friday” and leggings. I embraced the transition to more casual clothes because that also meant a transition to comfort. By the time I retired last year, I had one pair of pantyhose in my drawer. What a relief.
 

So, what does the Father do on Father’s Day when his wife and daughter take up the dinner table conversation with stories about women’s fashion bondage? He could share his own experiences with trying to wiggle into a pair of women’s pantyhose on a San Diego beach, an extra layer for warmth underneath his wetsuit for winter scuba-diving. Or he could recount the iconic advertisement Joe Namath did for pantyhose. Or maybe how hard he laughed watching Mel Gibson shimmy into a pair of fishnet pantyhose in the movie What Women Want. Instead, well, his problem is not with the fashion bondage of too tight but the fashion embarrassment of too loose. For now, I’ll respect his privacy on the details and allow our readers to imagine what might happen when someone—who has been begged to throw out his old underwear, nagged even—realizes the waistband has given out on a pair of…. briefs, boxers?... and feels them slowly descend towards his knees underneath the trousers of his business suit.
 

I’ve got my suitcase out ready to pack for our trip this week to New Orleans. I’ve got just enough room in the pocket where I used to put two or three pairs of pantyhose for an extra book, a good mystery about vampires and murder and Mardi Gras.

 

Sources :

Image of pile of panty hose.

Megan:

Here we have another topic that could quite possibly attract traffic to our site outside of our usual demographic. In fact, reversing the title to Bondage Fashion was a joke I was making all weekend. Outside of the leather straps, whips and stiletto heels, my mother has already talked about how fashion has restrained women in the past with corsets and, in China, bound feet.

I’m distracted today because we are leaving tomorrow night for New Orleans (via Phoenix), and in addition to needing to assemble my conference schedule and paperwork, I also have to pack. According to the weather predictions, the temperature will be roughly the same as here (early 90’s), with thunderstorms expected every day. I love thunderstorms, but not so much when I’m wandering the streets of a new city. Anyway, I might as well try to make this essay about the ways I have tried to make myself fashionable for the trip.

I dyed my hair yesterday. It’s the same color I’ve been dying it for the past 4 years, but because it fades so much from the initial purplish red to a lighter auburn, people who see me only occasionally, and at different stages of the fading, always ask me if I’ve changed the color.  I dye my hair myself for several reasons, but mostly because I enjoy the process. I like standing in the aisle the store and looking for the lady on the box. If they ever change the model, I’m going to have problems because I can never remember the brand or shade I prefer. I like putting on the rubber gloves, mixing the various chemicals together and then methodically parting my hair to ensure an even and consistent application. The only part I don’t enjoy is the cleanup process.  After unsuccessfully scrubbing the dye from my ears, neck and shoulders,  I didn’t try very hard to clean all the residue out of the shower because I knew the cleaning service was coming today. It was only as they pulled into the driveway that I realized the stains in the bathtub look very much like blood.

I went to Walmart with some friends of mine over the weekend. I try not to shop there, but I was looking for a variety of items and we were in a hurry and it seemed like the one place I could find a dog leash, a Pilates ball, a child’s swimming pool and self-tanner all together.  I’ve never used self-tanner before and my friend suggested a slow-developing brand that applies like a moistureiser. I’d be pretty satisfied with it except that my impatient self found it too slow, so I applied more often than instructed. But this morning I was distracted by the dog and one leg got a double dose but I can’t remember which.  I’m waiting for it to develop so I can figure out which leg is darker and avoid the problems experienced by Ross from Friends, and this entire experience is not worth the trouble.

I’m going to have to leave this essay here because a large group of men have arrived to install solar panals on our roof and I change into pants before they notice that one of my legs is darker than the other.