Knickers are often described as a foundation garment, they underpin your outer sartorial choices. Often a person has specific knicker requirements to make sure they're final sillhouette is not interupted by a visible pant line or black knicker shaped shadow. Interestingly, though our top layers are often part of our identity formation, we seem to work really hard to keep our knicker choice secret, it is certainly not generally acceptable to allow your knickers to be seen. In the 90s there was a sexually charged subversive movement to let the triangle of your g string poke out the top of your hipsters, but this was a deliberately provocative act. Is it just another symptom of enforced female modesty that makes pants so taboo? Is it another way that the patriarchy owns our sexuality- demanding that we keep our knickers between ourselves and our sexual partners? I don't think history supports that, the wearing of knickers has come about as women have gained more rights politically; The lingerie market is growing faster than ever, and so are movements to curb domestic violence, to challenge male entitlement to sex and to rewrite rape culture. Keeping our knickers and our noonoos (vulvas) out of the public eye could just as easily be explained as a way of keeping our sexuality for ourselves. Of taking ownership of our magical bodies, and sharing them, when we see fit. My conversations about underwear, which are frequent, usually reveal the simple fact that in a sexual relationship women are more likely to like lingerie, male partners are suprisingly apathetic, irrespective of how much they like sex. Knickers are for girls from invisible pant line to cotton gusset.
Which is part of why I love pants so much. They are the sartorial equivalent of a locket. A little secret part of your outfit, that the general public does not get to judge, (unless you want them to you saucy visible g string wearers). Not matter what your daily uniform, you can wear the most personally satisfying pair of pants, and everytime you go for a wee, its like a little joke you're having with yourself. I urge women everywhere, to be proud to selfishly wear your favourite pants, without a second thought to what they 'say about you', all that postmodernist symbolic bullshit complicates what should be a pure appreciation of the sensuality of good quality materials, the elegance of a good cut, the relief of a fully functioning object.
Since I birthed my second child, and personal time got chucked out with those enormous maternity pads, I've been streamlining my underwear drawer. I want a collection of sleek and comfortable black pants, extensive enough to negate the need for a 'dark colours wash' more than fortnightly. I am slowly erradicating from my life, all my underwear clutter- anything where the elastic is deteriorating, or the waistband digs in, or i get a regular wedgie. And as a little joke with myself, I like the wee time pick me up of a chirpy contrast gusset, frivolous on the inside. Lucky for me I make knickers, and I'm looking for kindreds who'd like me to make there's too!