As complete, total and irrefutable proof of my slow slide into ancient relative territory, recent trends in fashion flummox me completely. It started around the time boys went around wearing pants that were so loose at the waist, the belt and waistband was somewhere around their knees, and their ratty fake CK briefs were in full unwashed display along with back hair and butt crack. Which is not a pleasant sight. Whatever ever happened to pants at the waist or the hipline, held up with belts. Thankfully, with all the tripping around that happened thanks to the practical difficulties of trying to swagger when your pants are threatening to fall right to your ankles, and the fatalities that inevitably occured with pants worn low slung and potholed roads, this fashion trend was short lived.
The current street chic of wearing short kurtis with jersey churidars has me flummoxed too, favoured as they are by women who are not six feet of never ending legs, and 19 inch waistlines. This trend is seen most on women who have patted their waistlines in, tyre by tyre into their kurtis which skim the hipline, and seem in sheer danger of bursting a bloodvessel, or worse, a seam, if they dare breathe. And this corpulence is balanced on skin fitted churidars, which makes the total look one of avert your eyes right now or risk permanent retinal damage. And the ganji trend. Worn by sleek worked out bodies, I voice no objection, and on well buffed male bodies, I can even be counted on to painstaking remove and polish spectacles for a better look. But on bodies with jiggly bat arms, painstakingly accumulated tyres and assorted corpulence, or on the flip, matchstick bodies, with spare ribs on full display, I would be the first to run to said visual offender with any available piece of cloth to spare us wusses the sight that only bravehearts can stomach.
The newest trend that confounds me is them dratted bags with scarves tied to them. Are them bags at the risk of dying from sunstroke? Or will exposure to the air, bring them down with a cold and cough? Why on earth would bags need scarves wrapped carefully around them. Be sensible, wrap your head in a scarf in old Hollywood glamour style, top the look with a pair of oversized sunglasses in true retro bug eyed fashion (Tom Ford’s Samantha is a great bet, as are the new gold rimmed Prada aviators or resin square framed ones), and slick on deep matte red lipstick (carefully outlined of course) for a shot of insta glamour. Why waste all that potentiality on your bag? Or are we now required to build up wardrobes for our bags as well?
Yup. Am getting truly and absolutely old when I demand to see the practicality of any fashion statement. When I look at the scarf purely as a weapon to save oneself from a sunstroke, and pair of sunglasses as the good lord intended it to be, to protect the eyes from the blinding glare of the summer sun and these contact lensed eyes from vagrant dust particles that exist in the lower atmosphere for the sole purpose of winging into my unprotected eye and causing tearing, hopping mad with the world syndrome and I will never wear these damn lenses again moments.
I’m so not waiting for the day I get into granny heels, ditching them stilettoes I now live in, saying shoes are meant for walking and not mincing around. Come to think of it, I think I’m halfway there already. The day some serious walking around needs to be done, I’m the first to ditch them stilettoes for saner walking shoes. Or slippers. Or moccasins. Damn. Bring on them granny shoes already. Who am I kidding?