"The year was 1953 and if you were a woman, a night on the town meant either squeezing into a girdle or slipping on a garter belt. Formal dress dictated that females wear such intimate, and often uncomfortable, articles of clothing. How else could you hold up your nylons? Allen Gant Sr., then running textile company Glen Raven Mills, was inspired by his wife’s lament. “How would it be if we made a pair of panties and fastened the stockings to it?” he asked Ethel. She stitched some crude garments together, tried them on, and handed the products to her husband. “You got to figure out how to do this,” she said. Allen brought his wife’s experiment into the office, and with the help of his colleagues Arthur Rogers, J. O. Austin, and Irvin Combs, developed what they later called “Panti-Legs.” Their product—the world’s first commercial pantyhose—began lining department store shelves in 1959. “It was wonderful,” a 74-year-old Ethel Gant told the Associated Press 30 years later. “Most people my age loved them from the very beginning and couldn’t wait to get a hold of them. I don’t think we’ve ever changed our minds,” she said. Allen Gant Sr. had at least one satisfied customer, but the panty-stocking combo did not grab most women’s attentions at first. Though the convenience of not having to wear a girdle or garter belt was a plus, what helped pantyhose take hold was the rise of the miniskirt in the mid-1960s. For the fashion-conscious woman looking to wear a skirt shorter than stockings are long, pantyhose were the perfect fit. When iconic models such as Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy donned their mini skirts, demand for pantyhose exploded and women flocked to the stores for pairs of their own.
By the 1970s and 1980s, pantyhose were a staple in every teen and woman’s wardrobe. As more women headed into the workplace, sales of pantyhose only grew. In return, hosiery manufacturers continued to market new colors, textures, sizes and technology. “The silkiest ever,” teased one Hanes advertisement. “No one knows I’m wearing support pantyhose,” declared another.
Those glory days came to an end in the 1990s, a shift that Hosiery Association President Sally Kay attributes to a more relaxed work environment. “You saw the fashion pendulum swing more towards the casual,” she says. The industry witnessed a decline in pantyhose sales, and an increase in other products, such as tights and—with the rise of pants in the workplace—trouser socks.
Today, many women no longer feel pressured to don hosiery at all. First Lady Michelle Obama, considered a fashion trendsetter, has placed the garment in the retired pile. “I stopped wearing pantyhose a long time ago because it was painful. Put ‘em on, rip ‘em—it’s inconvenient,” she said on talk show, The View, last year. Valerie Steele, director and chief curator of The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology is also not a fan. “It does not look good for pantyhose,” she says, “The long term trend is for people to dress more and more casually.”
Though numbers are down, with 1.4 billion pairs of pantyhose sold in 2008, it does not appear that pantyhose will go extinct anytime soon. For women in more conservative work environments, pantyhose are still a must. Some others still prefer the more traditional option. “Today’s consumer envisions hosiery as more of an accessory,” Kay explains.
Although Allen Gant Jr. doesn’t distribute pantyhose through Glen Raven Mills, his father’s legacy remains. “I don’t think he had any idea pantyhose would change fashion the way it did,” Gant Jr. says. From the runway, to the office, and now stored away in women’s dresser drawers, the garment has gone through several life cycles. But that’s the order of things in the industry. As designer Coco Chanel once said, “Fashion is made to become unfashionable.”
So, there's your history. I started asking some of my girlfriends if they still wore hose and most said "not in years" unless you're going to a wedding or live in a cold part of the country. Put your one foot in then the other foot, pull them up around your knees, stand up and try not to fall over, don't let your nails rip a hole in one, suck that stomach in for the appropriate muffin top, unless of course you've got on Spanx to the bosom line, pull, tug, wiggle, uh oh, wrong size. The crotch is still at the knees!!!
His main character has angst out the ying yang. His name is Jack Griffin and is married to Joy and they have a daughter, Laura. And Jack has one hell of a set of parents. College professors as snobby and uppity as one can be without having any money. They always vacation on the Cape. When they're crossing the Sagamore Bridge, they begin to sing "That old cape magic" to the tune of "that old black magic". They always looked for a summer home but found them to be either "wouldn't take it as a gift" or "can't afford it!" Joy comes from a large, loving family where all of the children's names begin with "J". Jack can't stand them and they can't stand him. Jack never lets Joy and Laura have anything at all to do with his parents. Then Laura's best friend gets married and then Laura is to get married, and the marriage that Jack and Joy have cobbled together, gets uncobbled, or as Griffin puts it, "that he and Joy where now out of plumb". Read more...
I wanted to get AWAY from small town life. If you wanted Italian food, you ate it out of a can (Chef Boyardee and I were good friends). If you wanted Chinese, that's right, out of a can. I didn't want to drive an hour and a half to go shopping. I had taken the SAT and ACT and had done Ok but nothing to write home about. As you know, one criteria of the acceptance process is what percentile you are in your class. You needed to be in the top 10%. Well, golly, I was 3rd in my class, out of thirty! When I told my parents that I had been accepted, they were ecstatic but leery. Remember those liberals? My first semester was in Sept. of 1970. We were in the throes of the Vietnam war. Riots on campuses, riot police. And here I am. The small town girl who doesn't no shit from shinola. Yes, I had, maybe, if my memory is correct, inhaled, but I don't remember (we actually had a "paraphernalia" shop within walking distance from our apartment) . What I do remember is my first day of classes. I make my way to an English class of some kind, seat myself, and before you know it, a Black Panther comes screaming into the room. Oh gentle youthful readers. I am not talking about the feline black panther. Read more...
I certainly can understand an older man being attracted to a younger woman who, apparently, could keep up with his stamina...Ok. Who came on to whom hasn't been stated. She was ready, as she entitled his book, to go "All In". After listening to some of the news, there seems to be military "groupies". Never would have thunk it. The crux of the biscuit, though, is that he didn't HAVE to have the affair, but yet he did. It was his choice. Petraeus 
had everything to lose with this affair, status, power, family and loss of integrity. Oh but he's just another guy who had an affair. No biggy. Is it really that important? When you're head of the CIA, you really don't need to think with your d*ck. As one commentator said," Since when do generals take orders from their privates?" Now there are conspiracy theories running rampant about all kinds of stuff. You've got the President defending this person and that person, all kinds of misinformation regarding Benghazi, are you tainted enough so that your congressional testimony can't be believed, and/or were you set up to take a fall... Petraeus, remember when someone bought a full page ad in the NYT and called you "Be-traeus"? Well, I'm just going to call you a 4*-d*ckhead. I appreciate everything you've done for your country, but really, under military law, you could have been court marshaled. Ever hear of Mata Hari, who spied for the Germans during WWI? She was Dutch, slept with British officers and sold their info to the Germans. Hey, it COULD be possible. Read more...
was written in 1867. Columbus? 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue...They had the poor guide so flummoxed, he kept trying harder and harder to get them to squeal in ecstasy. And they called every guide, every guide no matter where they were, Ferguson. Maybe this is where the term "ugly American" began. I'm enjoying the book tremendously. He brings up many topics that I, as a traveler, have pondered. For example, all throughout Europe, Northern Africa and the British Isles one can see magnificent, towering cathedrals and castles and fortresses that are gilded with gold and silver with swords and crowns glittering with precious stones. But I, as did Twain, question how could the "powers that be" that had these churches etc built, gild the churches etc while their parishioners were living in abject poverty (and in many cases, still do)? And, they themselves living an elite life? Just something to ponder. Read about my travels to Tahiti and Istanbul...
and my husband is I-talian and from New York City. NEW YORK CITY? Now, that's a combo plan, wouldn't you say? Let's talk about proms in south Texas in the 1960's. Or, specifically mine in 1969. In my hometown, while in HS, you actually attended two proms. The juniors "hosted" the prom for the seniors (so, I was a junior in 1969) and then my own, as a senior (again, hosted by the juniors.) The year I was a junior, I remember the theme was Gone With the Wind. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. How politically incorrect is that? And looking back, how politically incorrect was that? But, it was 1969. It was also the time of the hairpiece. Not for men. For women. You took this false piece of hair to your stylist and they "styled" it for you. I had long hair and we tied it up in a knot and the stylist had made this hairpiece into lovely, cascading curls. Since we were in the land of Tara, I had it done "southern belle style". It cascaded half way down my back. At about 2am, it was cascading out the window of my boyfriend's car. But, let's progress. Proms in the 1960's in rural Texas. Read more...
rant on the US and our possible use of torture (water boarding specifically). If you haven't seen it, here's the link. Caution, funny Mr. Shep uses a few choice expletives to make his point: 
about the US's involvement in trying to track and kill the infamous drug dealer, Pablo Escobar. It is a fascinating read, very much a true life thriller. Then, to learn more about our hostilities with Iran, I read Guests of the Ayatollah about the hostages taken during the Carter administration. Yep, there's old Ahmadinejad right in the middle of the fracas. Read more...
(to say "studying" may be stretching it. I think studying partying was more like it). Since my husband and I hadn't been to Europe in a couple of years, we decided we would meet her in Paris and then she could fly home with us. Well, the best laid plans...We had chosen the weekend of the French Open and there were few hotels available. We had two choices, either the Ritz Carlton at $800 a night or the 2 star Hotel Des Deux Avenues 
at $120 a night. Read more...
