Regular readers of this blog (if such wonderful people indeed exist) will already know that the entire concept of men’s fashion is something that escapes me and has done for most of my life.
I try to keep abreast of female fashion (the ‘gypsy’ look, the shrug, the wrap-around dress, the chicken brick, etc) so I don’t feel entirely lost when the missus goes clothes shopping, but all things related to male attire remain a foreign country. In fact they remain another planet that will stay unexplored and unchartered. For ever.
This idea of male fashion as a personal no-go area was reinforced by a trip into Kensington today where I stood and stared at a pair of trousers for several minutes in a high-street shop. Passers-by thought I was a piece of performance art until the missus arrived to move me along.
The trousers were actually a normal enough pair of jeans but they had what I can only describe as tan leather chaps sewn into the inner-thigh area, prompting me to assume that the rodeo look is obviously the next big thing.
So if that does happen you read it here first. And I obviously want a prize of some description…
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