How come I wore that?!

Imagine the scene: It is ca. 1988 and, aged 12, I am about to make yet another 80s fashion mistake. I decide that not only are braces a brilliant idea, I really ought to own 2 pairs, because one just wasn't enough. So, I have pale, sickly green ones, and dark purple & black checked ones. As this was the 80s, I obviously don't use them to hold up my trousers. Instead, I cleverly wear them hanging down around my waist - thus ensuring that I either look as though I can't dress myself, or like I have rushed out of the toilet, or perhaps I just look like a fashion victim. I am not sure which is worse.

Fast forward a few years to 1992, and I am on a class trip to Greece. Slightly self-consciously, I don my new leggings for the first time. They look magnificent, but can I carry off red, orange, yellow, green and pink vertical stripes? My friend and I walk down the hotel corridor to another room, and knock. The girl answering the door takes one wide-eyed, shocked look at me, before exclaiming "Oh my God!" with a broad smile. I never wore the damn things again.

It is 1998, I am 22, and for the past few years, I have tried to look sexy. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to do that, which means that I am the proud owner of a blue, sparkly, see-through t-shirt and a short black skirt, which I wear when I go clubbing. I imagine this outfit makes me look attractive and fun. Wearing it, I dance in what I hope is a seductive manner. In reality, I look like a demented prostitute, smiling inanely at my boyfriend while dancing awkwardly. Just as well I never tried to make a living from my moves. Quite why he put up with the embarrassment is a mystery. As we have not yet married, he can easily escape. However, he stays put.

It is 2013 and I love my Danish pyjama trousers. When I bought these in 2010, they were the height of fashion there, so I was embarrassed to buy them, but knew that most people in England would not realise that they were so trendy in Denmark. I just don't want to look like a slavish follower of fashion, but I fell in love with this style. And I like to think they suit me. So I feel somewhat deflated when my toddler stops, mid-cry and whimpers: "Mummy, you are still wearing your pyjamas." This wouldn't be so bad, but she is the second person to say that.

A far less flattering pyjama trend is the current fad of onesies for adults. They look comfortable, and perhaps if I wore one, I could more easily get away with some of my more childish behaviour: Looking like an over-sized toddler, who could possibly be mad at me? However, this is one trend that really should have stayed in the bedroom: How do you go to the toilet in them? Do you have to awkwardly hold on to the top half of your outfit as it dangles round your waist, hoping the sleeves don't drag on the urine-stained floor of the public toilet you may find yourself in? Worse, as a friend pointed out, they are impractical for children who need the toilet, as it takes ages to undress. I realised adults must have the same problem: Imagine really needing to pee (in the way you only do when you realise you are finally very close to the toilet). There you are, desperately struggling to get the blasted thing off, getting tangled in it and falling over, hitting your head on the toilet in the process. Fashion victim indeed.

Image credit: http://theonepieceblog.com/2011/05/robbie-williams-loves-his-onesies/