Looking Sharp

Tonight’s prompt at our Writers Group was “that particular look”…

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Fashions come, go and then come back. The mini skirt is hot, then not, then hot again. Brylcreem were thriving in the hair-slicked 40s, then struggling, now thriving again in the hair-gelled 10s (is that the right term?). Braces fall out of style, then back in (Americans call them suspenders, but believe me, suspenders never go out of style).

Through all of this, though, one particular look has never come back.

The 1970s. What were we thinking?

Elephant flares. Five-inch platform shoes. Cheesecloth shirts that opened all the way to your navel if you yawned and stretched.

Flowery shirts with ties that exactly matched.

Hair. Oh God, so much hair. Afros like a giant black dandelion. Masses of curls, like you were wearing a Scottie-dog as a hat. Sideburns like Brillo Pads. Hair of Rapunzel-like straightness (and indeed length) that bounced up and down in a curtain in front of your face as you air-guitared along to Smoke On The Water.

Bay City Rollers scarves.

Giant collars like the wings of Concorde. Ties the width of a tablecloth, with a knot the size of a frog.

Bobble hats. Doc Martens. Trousers that stopped halfway down your shin. Denim jackets in colours that weren’t denim. Corduroy jackets. Bomber jackets.

Footless tights, just in case you girls think it was only us that looked daft.

Doctor Who-like scarves that stretched three times around your neck and still reached down to your knees.

Oh. Ok, I’ve still got one of those.

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