It was a scene straight out of a 1950s movie: an exclusive table in a Monte Carlo casino, a captivated crowd and a chiseled-chin gambler who’s doubling down. A femme fatale watches the play, swathed in silk, a flourish of gilt, semi opaque stay ups and a skirt dangerously short. The croupier pauses. The bettor looks up. Is she a runaway heiress or Lady Luck? As they resume their play, she sashays away with a flash of lace. Of one fact she’s sure: you make your own luck. That’s why she loves her thigh highs: exactly the right fit.