Tossed into a dingy bin, among crumpled newspapers and empty coffee cups, I lay discarded - a once-pristine stocking now with a run. From my dim corner, I reminisced about my evolution and how I ended up here. In the laboratories of DuPont in the USA, my older cousin, nylon, was created in 1935. A synthetic marvel, these stockings were made to mimic the natural sheen and allure of silk. They were durable and affordable and made women's legs look like a dream. However, I hail from a different pedigree. Born in Czechoslovakia, I am a descendant of 'silon'. The brilliant Otto Wichterle, on the other side of the world, was trying his hand at something similar, and voilà, 'silon' stockings were introduced. We were the European counterparts to nylon, equally loved and celebrated. Women everywhere wanted us. The silk stockings, although beautiful, were easy to tear and more expensive. We brought sheen, resilience, and an elegance that was hard to resist. Our arrival in the market was met with eager anticipation and soon we graced the legs of women across continents. During World War II, our importance became pronounced. With silk getting redirected for parachutes, nylon and silon stockings stepped in to fill the void. Our elasticity and sheen made us a favourite, even when there were shortages. But, as with all good things, our era too saw a decline. A snag here, a pull there, and soon we were discarded for the smallest imperfection. We, who had seen ballrooms and boardrooms, were cast aside. And now, here I am, reflecting on those halcyon days. While I might be in the trash now, my legacy endures. Every stride, every dance - we were a part of those moments. And in the end, isn’t that what truly matters? Not the wear and tear, but the memories we've been a part of.