As we get older, the flesh wars that dictate the socio-cultural principles of women’s dress becomes achingly prevalent. Fashion, seemingly overnight, seems to lose its sense of humour, and, it seems, so do we. I never know why that is: I know only that it’s so. What once had a devilish sense of fun and a certain level of arrogance now becomes a precarious tightrope as the old “should I, would I, could I?” mantra settles in for the duration. Take the hemline – a question that cuts right to the heart of the modern mid-lifer’s identity crisis; the rules as complex as they are ever-changing.
Historically, the hemline has certainly created something of a stir – typically the lowering of morals resulted in the heightening of the hem. Yet, when examined, it’s often associated with periods of social and political change. Take those at the forefront of a social revolution in the 1920s who danced the Charleston like nobody was watching, rebelling against preconceived convention and doing the unthinkable – showing their knees.
Then there was Twiggy and her band of merry women, who were defined by shrinky miniskirts so short a fair amount of skin must have touched their seats. It was these trailblazers who helped the emergence of a youth culture.
Not to mention the wealth of nations. It’s said that women’s dress lengths also rise and fall with stock prices: the stronger the economy, they say, the shorter the skirts; the weaker the economy, the longer. Now that’s a heck of a lot of noise about something as seemingly irrelevant as a hemline.
Regardless, when short becomes mainstream, what we have to aim for is the right amount of risky – a kind of now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t appeal. The truth is that the wrong side of the timeline of the mini verges precariously toward the inappropriate side of things; an awkward distraction, if you like.
So, to be frank, unless you can still dance like Tina Turner, it’s more than likely that it isn’t going to work for you. If one can’t bend over without a wince-inducing gasp from the crowd, perhaps it’s time to re-evaluate. That’s not to say that those above the age of 40 need to look like a miserable bunch of Elizabeth Bennetts.
Admittedly, in terms of a shape to suit all, the pencil (a time-honoured silhouette created by the French designer Christian Dior in the late 1940s as part of a post-war “new look”) is hard to beat. It has the remarkable talent of adding much-needed curves to a boyish figure and making the most of an hourglass shape by following the natural form.
Getting the right skirt shape and length is all in the wiggle, which almost always comes down to the cut of the skirt and the choice of shoe. Oh the shoes. Try to remember that there’s a difference between pictures and real life. Wearing heels that you can’t do anything in borders on insanity. Know the place for a vertiginous heel – one should never need a minder to make it down a set of stairs.
There’s nothing worse than preferring to say nothing at all rather than to make a mistake. So choose one or the other – if you wish to ignore all form and formula and perform night raids on your teenage daughter’s wardrobe, then good for you. Just make sure to do so with a certain level of confidence and pizzazz – we owe that much, at least, to our predecessors.
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