On stockings

There is a girl in my office who wears black stockings every day. I don't know how long this has been going on but we're in the last month of a Queensland summer and she's still wearing them.

Perhaps I should set the scene. This is Brisbane. Summer in Brisbane means daily temperatures regularly above 30 degrees Celcius and a high degree of humidity. Over the last week, we've had weather that I can only compare to Bangkok in May. As in 35 degrees with 90% humidity. It's been very, very uncomfortable weather. And still she wears stockings. I asked her if she ever gets hot in them, she said no. I haven't yet had the courage to ask her why she actually wears them. Hardly anyone else around here who wears skirts to work in summer does, which just makes it plain strange.

I was never a fan of stockings. I've owned a few pairs in my lifetime and I tend to buy one new pair every winter, which then never get worn except in the direst of circumstances (ie. pants are all in the laundry basket and a skirt is the only option).

They're so uncomfortable. And even though they cover your legs, you still have to shave them otherwise it's unbearable (for you and for others). And yet, I've always aspired to be that be-stockinged office girl, striding down the pavement in a sensible pencil skirt and heels, satchel at my side, on the way to my important work.
I think I've come to realise now those days will never come - putting that much effort into my work outfits is just beyond me most days. But a girl can still dream.

As me again in winter when it's zero degrees with an Artic wind blowing across the train platform.