How I cheered when I read recently that skinny jeans are on the way out and that the boy-cuts’ star was in the ascendancy on planet fashion. Since the rise of skinny jeans the generational divide, leg wear wise, has been clearly marked. A few short years ago it was (almost) impossible to age a woman by her choice of denim – not so in the past couple. No mature woman of right mind larger than a size 6, except a blessed few including Kate Moss, would dare to venture out in a pair. Unforgiving and uncomfortable only fashion slaves in desperate need of an eye test and the criminally insane ventured into skinny territory. And let’s face it there’s a clue in the name, though really skinny would have been more descriptive. I have never felt more gargantuan than when, in a moment of utter madness, I tried on a pair of skinnies. Teenagers look fab in them even (strangely) those who commit the now unforgivable crime of being larger than a size 12. It’s their youth that allows them to carry skinnies off. Young fat is firm fat and older fat wobbles in a distinctly different, and much more unattractive, way.
So hurrah, hurrah for fickle fashion. Skinnies out, baggies in. I’ve been the proud owner of a pair of Top Shop boy cuts for two years now and they are without a doubt my favourite pair of jeans. I wear them a zillion times more than my boot cuts, straight legs, cropped, knee highs and so on. Comfortable, flattering and now edgy – what more could a mature girl want! Oh, banishment to fashion wilderness for leggings…
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