"What did I wear last year," I wonder. "What shoes went with what?" "Do I really want to cripple myself with that pair of pointy boots I bought on a whim or should I put them in the secondhand bag?"

Warm clothes are more difficult to figure out than summer outfits - cold temperatures necessitate that. There are bare legs for example. Last week on a chilly day, I put on an old skirt and a new sweater vest and was pleased with the result. But what about my bare legs? Tights were too heavy to wear with the skirt.

I reached deep and pulled black-tinted pantyhose from the recesses of a drawer that hasn't seen daylight since the Dark Ages. There were two pair in their original packages, right next to the dainty, white gloves I wore on my wedding day 40 years ago.

It hasn't been that long since I wore pantyhose, but I'll bet it's been a good 10 years. The act of pulling them into place brought back memories. Thank goodness for Mom. She not only taught me the right way to set a table and iron a man's shirt, she also demonstrated the correct way to handle delicate hosiery.

Carefully, I unfurled the pantyhose gathering them up with my fingers. Pointing my toe, I gently wriggled them into place with nary a snag. For the rest of the day, my legs were warm and I didn't have to worry about my feet sweating in my flats. Pantyhose might be pass, but they sure were comfortable and just the right weight.

When I started writing this article, I had no idea that this year marks the 50th anniversary of pantyhose. According to an online Smithsonian article, the first pantyhose appeared in stores in 1959, marketed under the name, "Panti-Legs."

One might think they'd have been created by a woman, like the more modern Spanx (pronounced spanks) - undergarments guaranteed to flatten any wobbly fat on a gal's body - but in actuality "Panti-Legs" were invented by a man - at his wife's urging, I might add.

In the early 1950s, on a train ride home from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, a pregnant Mrs. Gant, wife of Allen Gant Sr., informed her husband that she wouldn't be going on any more trips with him. Round with a baby, the garter belt she wore was just getting too uncomfortable over her tummy, and she couldn't go out in public without her hosiery.

Allen Gant Sr. operated a textile company, Glen Raven Mills, and said to his wife, "How would it be if we made a pair of panties and fastened stockings to them?"

Gant, along with his colleagues, Arthur Rogers, J.O. Austin and Irvin Combs, fashioned a trend that virtually exploded in the '60s when mini-skirts became all the rage. Twiggy wouldn't be seen without pantyhose; neither would lots of other gals. All that changed when attire became more casual, and women tossed their tricot slips, barred their legs and opted for tights when the temperature dipped. In 2008, only 1.4 billion pairs of pantyhose were sold, the article states.

It seems a shame if you really think about it. Today's young women will never know the joy of dabbing a dot of nail polish on a run to keep it from dashing up their leg or donning a pair of pantyhose too short in the crotch, even though the package they bought was labeled "tall."

Though they're out of style, I'm hanging onto my pantyhose. Who knows - they might come back in, like the 15-year-old paisley vest I found in the basement when I was doing my clothing switch. ÊÊ