Flight of the cords
The drought was long and hard, stretching over the whole of this hot summer. Truth be told, I’d begun to doubt it would ever break.
And then, at the weekend, it did. ‘Cords galore in M&S. £20’, tweeted a friend. The high-street gods, who for the past six months had decided cords were ‘out’, had relented. Word spread; a zombie army of men set out for their nearest Marks. Some fell by the wayside, picked off by a passing gadget shop or pub; others became stranded in the cooked meats aisle of the food hall, unwilling to ask for directions; a game few wandered ‘accidentally’ into the lingerie section, where, living with their memories, they remain even now.
But like newborn baby turtles dashing for the sea, just enough made it. Blinking under unfamiliar shoplights, they replenished their stock of corduroy keks and felt a sense of rightness return to their lives.
The world of fashion, as may be clear, is not my world. But I am a strong and experienced advocate of cords. Comfortable, inexpensive, adaptable and – in boot-cut form – racily bohemian, it is the all-purpose trouser, appropriate for the following looks: ruffled academic, unwashed indie kid, weekending businessman, adorable grandfather.
Take heed, retail buyers. Cords are not seasonal, they are evergreen — or brown, or blue or, at a push, pastel.
(This article appeared in the Scottish Daily Mail on August 18, 2014)