Before nylon became a wartime casualty, it was a revolution in fabric. Wallace Carothers invented nylon in 1935, and DuPont introduced it to the public at the 1939 World’s Fair. The company marketed it as a material made from “carbon, water, and air” — a clever pitch for what was, in practical terms, a cheap, strong, and attractive alternative to silk. Women’s stockings were one of the first products made from it, and nylon quickly became the fabric of choice. Silk had been the standard before, but nylon was more affordable and looked just as polished on the leg. By the early 1940s, nylon stockings were one of the most popular clothing items in both the United States and Britain.
When the United States and Britain entered World War II, both governments introduced clothing rationing in 1941 to redirect raw materials toward the war effort. Nylon was among the first materials pulled from civilian use. DuPont, the largest nylon manufacturer in the US, shifted its entire production toward military needs — parachutes, ropes, and cords replaced stockings on the factory floor. Silk had already become scarce due to trade cutoffs with Japan. Women suddenly had no reliable way to get the one item that had become a daily wardrobe staple.
A black market for stockings emerged almost immediately. Prices shot up as supply dried up, and the few pairs still in circulation became hot commodities. Some shops tried to meet demand in creative ways, offering coupon-free substandard stockings or special deals that drew long lines of customers. Women and men alike scrambled to get their hands on any available pair.
The British government’s response to the clothing shortage came with the slogan “Make Do and Mend.” Women were urged to repair, reuse, and make the most of what they already owned rather than seek new purchases. Stocking mending became a serious business. Dedicated repair shops opened across Britain and France, employing teams of workers whose only job was to fix runs and holes in old stockings and extend their life as long as possible.
Even military women weren’t exempt from the stocking shortage. Women serving in the Auxiliary Territorial Service mended their own stockings at training depots, and old silk stockings collected by voluntary organizations were repurposed entirely — airmen wore them under their socks for extra warmth, and they were used to keep bandages clean in medical settings.
When mending wasn’t enough, women turned to an entirely different solution: they painted their legs. Using gravy browning, liquid makeup, and specially formulated dyes, women coated their bare legs to create the appearance of stockings. A dark line drawn up the back of the calf completed the look, mimicking the seam that ran up the back of a real stocking. This wartime look was called “Glamour Hose.” Salons and beauty bars opened specifically to offer the service, with trained beauticians applying the coating and drawing the seam with steady hands.
Stores in Croydon, England, were among those that set up dedicated leg-painting services. Customers came in, had their legs coated in tinted lotion, and left looking as though they were wearing real hosiery — all without spending a single clothing coupon. The newly opened Bare Leg Beauty Bar at Kennard’s store in Croydon became one of the most well-known venues offering this service.
Many women also did this at home, helping each other apply the liquid evenly and draw the seam straight. Getting the line right was tricky — a crooked seam would give the game away. Products like Legstick were marketed specifically for this purpose, and even the Radio City Rockettes modeled the look, helping normalize it as a fashionable wartime adaptation rather than a workaround.
At the same time, women on the home front who weren’t painting their legs were often knitting. Voluntary efforts produced stockings and other garments for both civilians and military personnel — groups of women gathered at camps and community spaces to knit replacements for items the factories could no longer make.
Fashion didn’t stand still either. By September 1943, designers were developing official alternatives for servicewomen. A new artificial silk-plated stocking called “731” was unveiled at a fashion show at Kennard’s of Croydon and modeled specifically for women in uniform — a sign that even wartime clothing restrictions were pushing innovation in textile design.
When the war ended and nylon production resumed for civilian use, the pent-up demand exploded. In Pittsburgh, more than 40,000 women lined up for just 13,000 pairs of stockings. The lines turned chaotic. Fights broke out and protests erupted at stores across the country. These events became known as the “Nylon Riots” — a measure of just how deeply the shortage had affected everyday life and how desperately women wanted their stockings back.
