A brief history of the racy, lacy thong

At the star-studded Met Gala this past spring, Kendall Jenner donned a crystal-encrusted sheer sheath by luxe lingerie brand La Perla with a black thong plainly visible. But the skimpy skivvies haven’t always been so high fashion — or so in-your-face.

Once derided as the underwear of choice for burlesque dancers and strippers, the thong became a pop-culture phenomenon in the ’80s and ’90s before settling into the red-carpet staple and go-to undergarment for everyday women we know today — largely thanks to New York lingerie brand Hanky Panky, which celebrates its 40th anniversary this fall. Its iconic stretch lace thongs in a rainbow of colors are worn by women all over the world.

Lingerie brand Hanky Panky is celebrating 40 years in business. Co-founders Lida Orzeck (left) and Gale Epstein pose at their Manhattan studio with their iconic stretch lace thong.Annie Wermiel/NY Post

The concept of stringy undergarments goes way back. Loincloths, which covered up private parts while revealing the buttocks, can be traced as far back as ancient Egypt. The thong as we know it, though, really came to be in the ’70s, when Austrian-born designer Rudi Gernreich created it as a pointed response to a Los Angeles ban on naked public swimming. (Technically, its wearers were clothed even though their rear ends were exposed — leading to their popularity with exotic dancers looking to skirt nudity laws.)

Hanky Panky was founded in 1977 by New Yorkers Gale Epstein and Lida Orzeck. They decided to start a lingerie line inspired by a simple bra-and-panties set that Epstein sewed for Orzeck, out of handkerchiefs edged in lace, as a birthday gift. Boutiques and department stores started stocking Hanky Panky’s dainty wares almost immediately. But it wasn’t until 1986, with the advent of elastic lace, that the company introduced its biggest seller: the stretchy thong classified as No. 4811.

“In the ’70s and ’80s, they were just developing spandex incorporated with lace, but it was not yet widely available,” says Epstein. After months of “careful tinkering,” what resulted was a soft band of lace that laid flat without digging into the skin.

“It was a poignant design moment,” says Orzeck.

And people caught on.

“One of the revolutionary things Hanky Panky did was make the thong feel like something anyone could wear,” says Cora Harrington, the founder and editor-in-chief of the Lingerie Addict Web site.

This wave of thong acceptance hit a peak — though some might call it an all-time low — in the late ’90s and early aughts, when celebrities from Paris Hilton to Christina Aguilera intentionally hiked their thongs above the waistbands of their jeans, displaying a tiny triangle of fabric flanked by stringy straps. Hugging the hips in plain view, their so-called “whale tails” were meant to be seen.

It was to this receptive audience that singer Sisqó unveiled “Thong Song,” the second single off his 1999 solo album. The unbridled enthusiasm the lead singer of R&B group Dru Hill, then just 21, displayed for the revealing women’s underwear captivated pop music lovers and catapulted the track to No. 1 on Billboard the following summer.

The catchy track was inspired by a first-date hookup that revealed a style of underwear he’d never seen before, Sisqó tells The Post.

“She took her pants off and I said, ‘What is that?’ ” he says. “I forgot about making out at this point because I was just enamored by this thong. I wanted to shout it from the mountain tops. Everybody, I found the holy grail!”

Ironically, thanks to TV censorship rules at the time, his popular music video doesn’t include a full-on shot of the female backside clad in its namesake undergarment.

(Sisqó still performs the song while on tour with Dru Hill for an audience of zealous fans. “They throw thongs onstage. I have to make sure I don’t slip on them,” he says.)

Meanwhile, Hanky Panky was taking off.

In 2004, a front-page Wall Street Journal outed the brand’s thongs as the secret obsession of boldface names including Cindy Crawford to Julianne Moore. Hanky Panky underwear started flying off the shelves; Epstein and Orzeck expanded into a Madison Square Park showroom with a 90,000-square-foot warehouse in Queens.

“Women who had never, ever tried it, felt like they had to, and men wanted to buy them for their wives or girlfriends,” says Danny Koch, the fourth-generation owner of the Upper West Side’s Town Shop, which has sold 20,000 Hanky Panky thongs, ranging in price from $20 to $39, since it digitized its cash registers in the 1990s.

It’s a brand whose customers span generations, including a 93-year-old former bra designer who still sports a wide array of jewel-toned undies.

“I know from a friend that someone wanted her thongs buried with her,” Epstein says of another fan.

Customers wax poetic on the brand’s blog about their pairs — one musing that they made her feel sexy after a mastectomy and others bragging about full-coverage-loving friends they’ve converted.

But the ubiquitousness of the garment hasn’t stopped paparazzi from delighting in snapping celebrities’ accidental flashes. Last summer, Paris Hilton’s white thong peeked out while she bent to look at something in a Milan shop; fotogs were on the scene. It’s amusing, sure, but no longer scandalous.

A sign of the times: According to Epstein, even the name “Hanky Panky” initially made Bergdorf’s quake in their designer boots. The luxe retailer has, of course, come around and carries the brand.

Speaking to the shift, Epstein says, “We had G-strings in collections made out of hankies or silk, but those garments were considered risqué at the time . . . It’s a change of societal norms.”

Orzeck gets to the point, saying that these days, “You don’t have to be a slut to wear a thong.”

A visual history of the thong