Whenever I go home for the weekend, everyone always asks me what I miss the most.

It's not the sushi shops on every corner.

It's not the skinny chai latte, with a cinnamon frosted heart floating on it's frothy surface and extra

honey on the side at my favourite cafe.

It's not even my nearest and dearest, best friends - most of whom I've been friends with since I was

five years old.

It's the tights.

Robin Hood once sang about tights - "tight tights!" - and I think he was on to something.

Open the second drawer of my dressing table and you will see a rainbow of stockings.

I think I've amassed perhaps one of the world's largest collection of tights.

Every hue you could possibly imagine.

Magenta, red, purple, mustard, grey, blue, black, brown, tan, even forest green.

Not satisfied with block colours, I have a range of zig-zag, checkered, diamond, stripes, polka dot

and other fish-netted marvels.

But the tights I love the most - the ones at the very back of the sacred drawer - the pair I am most

reluctant to bring out into the open in Ballarat, are my aquamarine fishnets.

Bought on impulse last year, they were soon a favourite.

Although they sound impossibly garish, they look fabulous with a black dress and boots.

I first noticed I was gaining notoriety for always wearing tights and dresses or skirts around the

office when I decided to wear a pair of simple black pants one day.

I was on an afternoon shift, and it can get rather chilly in the office in the evening.

I walked in and was about to sit at my desk when one of the reporters spun around and exclaimed:

"Oh my God! You own pants!''

Last year I was in Ballarat doing some work experience when I bravely decided to give the

outrageous blue tights a run.

I was assigned to cover the launch of something in Bridge Mall that called for the attendance of local