Women's Nylon Tights Guide

Tights are a kind of cloth garment, most often sheathing the body from the waist to the toe tips with a tight fit — hence the name. They come in absolute opaque, opaque, sheer and fishnet styles, or combinations of them, such as the original concept of the American term pantyhose, with sheer legs and an opaque panty. Pantyhose, called sheer tights in the United Kingdom and a few other countries, are close-fitting legwear covering the wearer's body from the waist to the toes, and they first appeared in stores as a convenient alternative to stockings and control panties.

Like stockings and knee highs, pantyhose are usually made of nylon, or of other fibers blended with nylon — and that ‘usually’ carries one of the great stories of fashion. Women's sheer tights and pantyhose subtly cover legs and elevate style: pulling on a pair still lets your skin peek through while giving you a little extra coverage.

1940: The Fiber That Changed Legs

Nylon was the first commercially successful synthetic thermoplastic polymer. DuPont began its research project in 1927. Nylon was first used commercially in a nylon-bristled toothbrush in 1938, followed more famously in women's stockings — ‘nylons’ — which were shown at the 1939 New York World's Fair and first sold commercially in 1940. After nylon's nationwide release in 1940, production increased: some 1,300 tons of the fabric were produced during 1940, and during their first year on the market, 64 million pairs of nylon stockings were sold.

The success created its own problem. As pure nylon hosiery was sold in a wider market, problems became apparent: nylon stockings were fragile, in the sense that the thread often tended to unravel lengthwise, creating runs. Pure nylon textiles could also be uncomfortable due to nylon's lack of absorbency — moisture stayed inside the fabric near the skin under hot or moist conditions instead of being wicked away — and nylon fabric could be itchy, and cling and spark with static. The solution found was to blend nylon with other fibers or polymers such as cotton, polyester and spandex, retaining nylon's elasticity, durability and dyeability while fixing the comfort. Every modern pair of tights is that solution, knitted.

Denier: The Sheer-to-Opaque Scale

Denier is the number that runs the hosiery drawer: it measures the weight — and therefore the opacity — of the yarn. 5–15 denier is ultra-sheer, a whisper of color for evening and bridal legs, and correspondingly delicate. 20–30 denier is the classic sheer tight or pantyhose weight: covered, but skin shows through. 40–70 denier is semi-opaque to opaque, the workhorse for skirts in cool weather. 80 denier and above is fully opaque — effectively a legging with feet, worn as a garment layer in winter.

Around the scale sit the constructions: sheer-to-waist (one fabric throughout, for short hems), control top (a firmer panty section for smoothing), sandalfoot and reinforced toe (the toe decides whether open shoes are possible and how long the pair lives), fishnet and patterned tights (texture instead of coverage), and footless tights where the garment shades into leggings. Buy denier by season and formality: sheers dress up, opaques dress down and warm up.

Choosing, Wearing and Making Them Last

Size by the chart on the packet, honestly: tights sized by height and weight fail when bought optimistically — too-small sheers run at the toe and ladder at the thigh, and a pair that fits lasts several times longer. Choose the rise and waistband you'll forget you're wearing (wide, flat bands beat elastic cords by the second hour), and consider a cotton or breathable gusset for all-day wear — the blend lesson of 1940 applied at the pattern level.

Putting them on is a technique, not a tug: gather each leg to the toe, place the foot, and unroll up the leg rather than pulling from the waistband; keep nails and jewelry away from sheers. Wash by hand or in a mesh bag on gentle, hang dry out of the sun, and store rolled, not folded over hangers. Runs begin as snags — a dab of clear nail polish at a snag's edge still stops a ladder exactly as it did for the first generation of nylon wearers, who would have expected nothing less of the miracle fiber.