Since returning from my tranquil and gloriously sweaty vacation in Costa Rica, I have been simultaneously relishing and enduring the height of tight season here in New York. During the upheaval of moving from the suburbs to my new neighborhood, I had initially jammed my impressive collection of various pairs of tights into my main suitcase, which, subsequently, was artfully crammed into the corner of my awkwardly narrow hall closet. While emptying this suitcase for vacation packing was, at the time, quite the hassle, it ultimately proved fruitful since I was then forced to find a new home for my arguably most frequently worn winter garment.
Funnily, despite being so heavy in rotation, so completely and utterly versatile, I have so far resisted the financial plunge into the realm of luxury hosiery, namely, the Wolford brand. At superficial assessment, spending more than 100$ on a pair of hose seems ludicrous; with the risk of runs and snags always imminent, tights are perpetuated as a transient commodity, an accessory that has a variable and tenuous wear-life. If I were dip deep into my business acumen, take the effort to perform a thorough cost-benefit analysis, I would surmise that, in reality, the spend on those numerous pairs of tights of mediocre quality, spend measured in dollars and time and potential for embarrassing moments of a public rip, would exceed the cost of a single Wolford pair. Cost per wear. Cost per tear. This may even elegantly, or ridiculously, be modeled in a Markov-fashion. My high school economics teacher would be begrudgingly proud; my handful of years in strategic marketing are infecting my lifestyle, running rampant. Pun intended.
Time for some fresh evening air, away from the cubicle, away from tactical decks, away from budget discussions. But, still, time to perhaps reevaluate the ancient adage of quality and quantity.
(image taken from Who What Wear)