It was only a matter of time before I decided to branch into vlogging. Some (most) would argue that I’m about 4 years late to the party, but, hey, noone ever likes a keeno. My foray into the world of video can be seen below; a wee bit of advice on the five new capsule classics you need in your wardrobe for an instant update. Watch it, then scurry along to my YouTube channel to subscribe. It will make me very, very happy.
I used to hate 70s fashion. Looking back at pictures of my mum in her 20s, resplendent in wallpaper prints and a not-insignificant auburn afro, made me thank my lucky stars that there was no way in hell that I would ever have to suffer the ignominy of bell-bottoms. The world couldn’t possibly be that stupid twice, I reasoned. A one-time plague of flares would have been enough to teach everyone a lesson, surely?
Call me a sucker, then, that not only have I fallen heavily for the turbo-flare, but I am also willingly committing photos of me in them to The Internets; out there 4 lyf. ‘Tis for good reason, though. Firstly, they make my otherwise-modest 5 ft 3 and an (important) half appear at least three inches taller (side note: this might also be the elephantine wedges I’m wearing underneath), but also, due to sheer bloody physics, the balancing act a flare provides means that if you’re a pear shape like me, the proportions work for you. Trick of the eye, mate. Can’t argue with science. And it looks like I can’t argue with my mum anymore, either. Dammit.