I’ve spent £432.78 on black tights this month. No, I haven’t lost my mind (well, no more than usual). I’ve been conducting what might be the most quintessentially British fashion experiment possible: finding the perfect pair of black tights. My bank account manager has concerns. My boyfriend thinks I’ve joined some kind of hosiery cult. My legs, however, have never been more thoroughly researched.
It started, as these things often do, with a disaster. Three weeks ago, I was rushing to an important meeting with a potential advertiser when my tights—supposedly indestructible 80 deniers that shall remain nameless but rhyme with “shmwolford”—developed a ladder so spectacular it practically reached my armpit. This happened, naturally, four minutes after leaving my flat, one minute before my bus arrived, and with absolutely zero backup pairs in my bag.
I ended up conducting a serious business meeting with my coat strategically arranged over my lap, sweating profusely despite the November chill, and making a solemn vow that this situation would never, ever happen again. Thus began The Great British Tight Investigation of 2024.
My methodology was simple but thorough: I would try every major brand available on the British high street, from budget to luxury, wearing each pair for a full day of normal activity. Normal activity in my case meaning rushing for tubes, spilling coffee, sitting cross-legged on uncomfortable chairs, and occasionally doing that weird half-jog when you think you’re late but aren’t quite committed enough to break into a full run.
I created a spreadsheet with categories for price, denier, durability, comfort, appearance, and that elusive quality I’ve come to call “not-rolling-down-ness”—the ability to stay put at the waist without gradually migrating toward your knees like some kind of nylon glacier.
Let’s start with the budget options, shall we? Primark’s 3-for-£5.50 tights in 80 denier seemed too good to be true, and reader, they absolutely were. They lasted exactly 4 hours and 27 minutes before developing a hole in a location that made me genuinely question if someone was playing an elaborate prank on me. The waistband also performed an impressive vanishing act, rolling itself into a tight, uncomfortable sausage that settled precisely at the widest part of my middle. A impressive 2/10 for effort.
Next up: Marks & Spencer’s 100 denier heatgen tights for £8. Now we’re talking. These are a British institution for a reason. They’re warm, they’re reasonably priced, and they have a satisfyingly robust feel when you put them on. Like a dependable friend who always returns your texts but never suggests anything wild on a night out. They survived a full day of meetings, a spilled chai latte, and an unexpected dash through light rain. The colour stayed true black rather than fading to that sad, washed-out charcoal that cheaper tights often deteriorate to. The only downside was a slight baginess at the ankles by day’s end—not enough to be visible to others, but enough to mildly irritate me. A solid 7.5/10.
Sainsbury’s Tu Clothing 90 denier tights (£7 for two pairs) were the dark horse in this race. Supermarket fashion doesn’t always deliver, but these were surprisingly excellent. Good opacity, comfortable waistband, and they survived an encounter with my friend’s excitable French bulldog puppy who has absolutely no respect for hosiery research. They did start to lose their shape after washing, though, developing that slight sheen that less expensive tights get when they’ve been through the wringer a few times. Still, at that price point, a respectable 6.5/10.
Moving up the price scale, Next’s 100 denier “forever black” tights (£14) talked a big game but delivered mediocre results. Despite their promises of colour longevity, they faded faster than my enthusiasm for Dry January. The fit was decent, but they seemed mysteriously attracted to every slightly rough surface within a three-mile radius. One journey on a wooden bench at a pub quiz, and they looked like I’d dragged my legs through barbed wire. A disappointing 5/10.
H&M’s 200 denier “super opaque” tights (£12.99) were a surprise hit. What they lacked in sophisticated packaging they made up for in bullet-proof density. These things could probably stop small projectiles. They have that perfect matte finish that makes your legs look like you’re in a slightly stylized black and white film. They’re a bit warm for heated offices, mind you—I had to subtly pull them away from my legs during one particularly stuffy meeting, like some sort of reverse Marilyn Monroe moment over an office air vent. For sheer (or rather, not sheer at all) opacity, they scored 8/10.
Uniqlo’s Heattech 110 denier tights (£14.90) had me at hello with their promise of warmth without bulk. These are the technical fabric wizards of the tight world. They’re genuinely warm but don’t make your legs feel like they’re encased in cardboard tubes. The waistband is wide and comfortable, and they have a slight sheen that looks intentional rather than cheap. After a full day that included a 40-minute walk when the Central Line decided to have yet another existential crisis, they were still perfectly in place. My only criticism is that they’re a little too good at their thermal properties—there were moments on a crowded Northern Line carriage where I feared spontaneous combustion might be imminent. Heat management issues aside, 8.5/10.
ASOS’s own brand 120 denier tights (£8) were a mixed bag. The colour was good and deep, the price reasonable, but the fit was bizarre. They seemed to have been designed for someone with thighs twice the length of mine, resulting in a strange bunching situation around the knees that made me look like I had some kind of joint-related medical condition. They also had that synthetic smell that lingered even after washing. A mediocre 4/10.
Now for the heavy hitters. Wolford’s 80 denier “Neon” tights (£35) are the ones that sparked this whole investigation with their spectacular ladder, but in fairness, I’ve had pairs from them before that lasted so long I was considering including them in my will. This replacement pair restored my faith—they’re buttery soft, perfectly opaque, and make your legs look like you’ve spent your life devoted to ballet rather than biscuits. The comfort level is off the charts—I actually forgot I was wearing them at one point, which has literally never happened to me with tights before. They’re eye-wateringly expensive, but if you calculate cost-per-wear over their lifespan, they’re actually decent value. Quality comes at a price, and that price is 9/10.
Falke’s Pure Matt 100 tights (£29) were my highest hope. German engineering applied to legwear—what could go wrong? Nothing, as it turns out. These are exceptional tights. The density is perfect, the matt finish makes your legs look like they’ve been lightly photoshopped in real life, and the waistband deserves some kind of engineering award. They don’t budge, they don’t roll, they just sit there doing their job like the consummate professionals they are. They survived a day that included running for a train, sitting through a three-hour presentation in an overheated room, and an unexpected downpour without so much as a hint of failure. If I were the sort of person who got emotional about hosiery (and let’s be honest, 3,000 words into this article, we all know I am), these would bring a tear to my eye. 9.5/10.
Heist Studios’ The Eighty (£28) came highly recommended by several colleagues who speak about them with the reverence usually reserved for religious experiences. The unique selling point is their seamless, high waistband that promises to stay put without digging in. Reader, it’s no lie. These are the Rolls Royce of waistbands—comfortable, secure, and blissfully roll-free. The legs are beautifully opaque with a soft matte finish, and they moved with me rather than fighting against every bend and stretch. The only reason they don’t score a perfect 10 is that they’re slightly less durable than I’d hoped—after three wears and washes, they were already showing slight signs of wear at the inner thigh. Still, a magnificent 9/10.
Swedish Stockings’ Lia Premium 100 denier tights (£30) deserve a mention not just for performance but for sustainability credentials. Made from recycled nylon, they’re the eco-warrior’s tight of choice. Performance-wise, they’re excellent—good colour, good opacity, comfortable fit. They lasted well through multiple wears and washes without losing their shape or colour. The waistband is on the tighter side, which I actually prefer as it keeps everything in place, but might not be everyone’s cup of tea. For those seeking hosiery with a clean conscience, these scored 8/10.
Special mention must go to Snag Tights (£15.99), which aren’t available in physical stores but have developed a cult following online. Their sizing system is revolutionary—based on both height and dress size rather than the standard S/M/L that serves precisely nobody well. Their 80 denier “Chub Rub” tights (what a name!) were a revelation for anyone with thighs that have met and become well acquainted with each other. No laddering at the inner thigh, no awkward adjusting throughout the day, just comfortable, reliable performance. For inclusive sizing and durability, they scored 8.5/10.
Forty-three pairs of tights later (I told you I was thorough), I’ve reached some conclusions. The perfect black tight does not exist in absolute terms—it depends on your specific needs. For everyday office wear that won’t bankrupt you, M&S Heatgen tights offer the best quality-to-price ratio. For special occasions when only the best will do, Falke Pure Matt 100s are worth every penny. For sustainability with style, Swedish Stockings leads the pack. And for those whose thighs create friction with every step (solidarity, sisters), Snag Tights are life-changing.
What I’ve also learned is that proper care dramatically extends tight lifespan. Hand washing is ideal but realistically, who has the time? A mesh laundry bag in a cold, gentle cycle is the compromise that works. Never, ever tumble dry them unless you’re trying to create doll clothes. And keep your nails filed smooth—the number one cause of unexpected ladders is rough nails catching the fabric during the putting-on process.
My bank account may never recover from this investigation, and my drawer is now so stuffed with black tights that it refuses to close properly, but I consider this research time well spent. There’s something uniquely satisfying about finding the perfect pair of black tights—a small victory against the combined forces of British weather, public transport, and fast fashion quality control.
Yesterday, I wore my Falke tights for an important presentation, and in the middle of my talk, I caught a glimpse of my perfectly opaque, matte black legs and felt a small surge of confidence. It’s the little things, isn’t it? My name is Olivia Bennett, I’ve spent £432.78 on black tights, and I regret nothing. Well, maybe the Primark ones. Those I regret.