Years ago, I stopped looking down when looking for the arrival of a train. The subway tracks below are always dirty and dotted with fetid pools of water. Rats scurry and cavort. During tights season, it's best just to keep one's eyes peeled for tights like these. Monochromatic gray tights may be among my favorites. Dove gray. Dare I say--rat gray? Yes! Of course I do! One one hand (leg?), these tights were part and parcel of another boreal day. These were practical city tights made glamorous with blush pumps and a leopard skin print coat, reminiscent of Edie Sedgwick, although I'm sure she was almost always above ground in cabs.
Why do I love tights so much? For a relative pittance, they provide not only warmth but glamor. They are ubiquitous, easy to find, easy to pack and stow away. They are democratic like Levis. They obscure faults but tell the truth. They make the truth more beautiful. They easily re-contextualize a shoe. They make it easy to be stunning. And they don't have to be dry-cleaned.
Just writing off the top of my head here and fully aware of how silly this might sound!
The train came and the gray tights disappeared into an adjacent car.