You spent your childhood being bought long socks by your mum, followed by snaffling the most superior pair of tights from your older sister's underwear drawer as you got older. But when it actually came down to you buying your own pairs, you were thrown by the wide variety of tights on offer. Suddenly you've got 5 Denier, 40 Denier, 60 Denier. No but seriously, who is this Denier and what does he want you to choose? You pick up the nearest pair and purchase them, hoping to God you picked the right ones. You get them home, eagerly open you brand spanking new leg attire - and it's like trying to fit a woollen lamb over your calf. They're so thick. It's a disaster. (If you were interested, Denier refers to the thickness/weight of material used in tights; so wearing a 5 Denier is like having nice naked legs, while a 100 Denier is like wearing leg jumpers).
I love Stephen King and music festivals; I eat my toast upside down; I daydream about getting married probably a bit too much; and I wish every day for a pet sausage dog puppy (who never materialises – sob).
