Road Wars is on at the moment. Believe it or not, I actually love Sky One’s Road Wars and all of those guilty pleasure trashy reality police shows where scumbags get nicked whilst simultaneously demonstrating their immense stupidity for the whole world to laugh at. One of the most idiotic things about the criminal fraternity is their enthusiasm for the current fashion trend of wearing their trousers half way down their arse. That way, when they get chased by the police, they end up with their jeans nearly tripping them up, meaning that they’re caught easily and you get the wonderful obligatory camera shot of them being led away with their hands handcuffed behind their back and their trousers round their knees. Naturally, if they were smart, then they would be wearing something to aid their escape, rather than something a clown would wear. Actually, if they were smart, then they wouldn’t be getting caught in the first place. Furthermore, if they were really smart, then they wouldn’t be petty criminals – they’d actually do something useful with their lives instead of being scumbags on Road Wars.
I’ve never been able to understand “fashion”. Fashion: the act of wearing certain clothes the world says you should wear in order to be popular. It’s fucking ridiculous. The only one time I’ve ever been inadvertently fashionable is when I wore a pair of Farah trousers to school in the late 80’s and my fellow pupils made lots of impressed noises. Of course, it was unusual for me to gain any kind of acceptance at school, so I was curious, puzzled and then, eventually, annoyed that I became momentarily popular just because my Mum had happened to order a certain pair of trousers from “Kays” the catalogue a few months back. Of course, my “coolness” soon evaporated when I admitted that my blazer had come from the Co-op. Still, it made a nice change to have a few hours where I didn’t have to worry about being beaten up. It didn’t change my mind about how ridiculous fashion was to me, though.
I still think that fashion is one of the most idiotic concepts around. All you have to do to lend weight to that statement is look at what most people were wearing for the majority of the 1980’s. I rest my case. It’s not that I’m approaching my forties and am becoming an old, grumpy git. Well, that’s not entirely the reason for my viewpoint, anyway. I have always, basically, worn what I’ve wanted to wear regardless of what is in vogue. What’s annoying, though, is when fashion encroaches on what’s available in the shops. For example, I wanted to buy myself a couple of pairs of jeans in the summer – and the majority of the jeans I could find started halfway down my backside. When I complained and asked if they had any “normal” jeans, I was told by the shop assistant that “it’s the way people wear them these days”, like I was an alien from the planet Moron.
Now, I’m not being falsely modest here or putting myself down by saying this – nobody on this Earth is interested in either (a) seeing the waistband of the underwear I have on or (b) viewing my arse crack in full, glorious Technicolor. These things considered, I think I was more than justified in continuing my search until I found a pair of jeans which had a waistband above my hips. Personally speaking, I think young people look bloody ridiculous in those kind of jeans, let alone a 35-year-old bloke who could stand to lose a few pounds. Not that body shape makes any difference to me. Regardless of whether you’re a slim, young, shapely woman or Vanessa Feltz… I’m not interested in seeing your underwear, irrespective of what brand it is or how flimsy the material may be. There’s a reason it’s called underwear – it’s meant to be under your clothes.
Like many reasonable, sensible people, I tend to simply buy clothes that I like – items that are quite nice, reasonably priced and that I’ll feel comfortable in. Those are the only criteria I find important when choosing clothing. However, I remember seeing something on sale a few years ago and commenting to my Heat magazine-reading wife (at the time) that I liked it. She looked horrified and told me that it was in “last year’s colours”. This absolutely fried my brain. How can an entire colour be out of fashion? Surely this is just propaganda from an industry that wants you to feel really bad about your wardrobe, throw away all of your perfectly good clothes and go and spend all of your cash (or credit limit) on similar items, but in different colours… ones which will please the fashion Gods, naturally. Forgive me for thinking that if you fall for this transparent bullshit, then you clearly have the intelligence of a mollusc.
Another major problem I have with fashion is that some people who embrace it when they’re young can’t bring themselves to let it go when it goes out of fashion. You can see it in the blokes in their late 30’s who are still wearing the Adidas “trackies” sported by Blur in the early 90’s, the rockers in their 50’s still wearing their seventies leathers, your Great Granddad who still desperately attempts to Brylcreem his thin, wispy hair into Elvis Presley’s quiff and the Michael Jackson-loving people in their 40’s who still wear a pre-pubescent boy around their penis. I hate to think of the Jordan-worshipping pensioners of 2050, with their Lycra tops barely covering their saggy knockers, vast expanses of “muffin-top” flesh spilling out over skin-tight trousers, worn half way down their buttocks, with a tiny thong cutting their ample fake-tanned arse in two like cheesewire on a jellyfish, complete with “tramp stamp” tattoo at the base of their spine.
Thankfully, I’ll probably be dead by then – and, if I’m not, a sight like that will probably do it. Either that, or it’ll be deemed unfashionable to be that old and I’ll be ordered to kill myself by Vogue magazine. In which case, I’ll stay alive just to spite them. That’ll show the bastards.