Knickers to that!

Knickers eh? What a strange garment.

I was contemplating them... as you do... and the more I looked at the various sizes folded neatly on my shelf there, the more the mind boggled at the whole industry that has arisen over the years, around just that (relatively) small item. It's big business, from the six pairs for a tenner made in some horrible dungeon in India, to one tiny bit of fluff for... oooh, way too much!... made in some horrible dungeon in India. (Well, who knows!)

It's a fairly modern bit of apparel by all accounts and used to be very 'sensible', going on the examples still to be found from Victorian days. Imagine if your knickers were to be on display in a museum. Arghgh. Big giant bloomers, originally crotchless too. I suppose the long gowns worn at the time kept the drafts off. I do wonder why anyone would want antique knickers of any persuasion from any previous owner, even if she was the Queen. 2nd-hand of any age do not appeal to me one bit! I suppose it's handy, for historical purposes if nothing else. Bras, I can see, sure. Knickers... not so much. 'If they're not new, they're not for you!'

There was no such thing as knicker elastic in those days either so, untying when you've a long gown on top... hmmm, makes sense to be open to the elements so you don't have to do that. So now I'm imagining the horrors of the easily-tripped-over hems on grand staircases with legs akimbo, head over heels... bad enough nowadays, with crotches intact! Not counting the risque crotchless affairs available.

I remember when first married, we had two old age pensioners in the flats below and they shared the same drying green with us. Old Maggie used to rail at us about old Janet with her dainties hanging out for all to see... 'You can't tell me she wears them!' she'd rant. 'They're just for show! Do you see the size of them?' They were indeed of the rather tiny variety, and given the age, not to mention shape, of Janet, they were on the small size. You can't know though. How would we know?! Though Maggie did have a point, there was no finding out for sure. It was hilarious listening to the rants, I have to say. Discussing your neighbour's ludicrous, knicker-wearing habits has to be up there with the best of comical memories. Aaah, good times.

Myself, I've never taken to those string affairs... thongs, whatever they're called. I know plenty wear them, but have never seen the attraction. I suppose they can look good on a beach but the examples of actually attractive derierres are few and far between... let's be honest here. Not worth the horrors that are displayed with impunity... and man, but they're uncomfortable (I did try). I really don't see the point of them and dread to think what the neighbours would say if they saw them hanging out on my line!

I will admit to, fairly recently, still buying the ones that are just too bloody wee. I mean, they fit, sure, but they don't... cover. Ye cannae tuck yer vest in! I've finally capitulated though, and will no longer subject myself to the discomfort of anything but nice, comfy BIG pants. You can get them nice now too! You can! 

They do look horrendous on the line, I agree. Even I can hold them up in disbelief that 'these are mine?!' but I'm now that pensioner neighbour that Maggie was wont to ridicule behind her back and really, what IS the point of flaunting wee bits of lace and elastic that merely make you look ridiculous - and are uncomfortable to boot?

I am at peace with myself that there will be no more 'dance of the seven veils' at the bottom of the bed. Comical as it was to start with, it didn't used to make him want to poke his eyes out like it does now. So, the tiny knicks really are history... or at least will be when the currect supply runs out. I don't see any of my cast-offs turning up in a museum display cabinet in the year 2345, but then again, I won't be around to complain about it so, fire ahead you historians.

I do have some nice ones, damn it though. I'll probably never even get through all of them because, as is usual, I tend to keep rewearing the newly-washed comfies until they wear out, which isn't fast, not really, and the wee useless things stay unworn at the bottom of the pile. Then I buy new ones. I think the trick is to combine 'giant' with 'pretty' with 'practical' with 'comfy'. They do exist, and not all of them are extortionately priced, so I'm golden for a whiley yet.

So. This was not to gross anyone one about the thought of my knicker collection, but just to get it off my chest about one of the luxury problems we women all face at some point in our lives. There are more pressing problems in the world, I do realise, but I have little or no say about most of them. 

I feel so free now... almost like I'm not wearing knickers.