Imagine my horror when a couple of days ago I found myself invited to a party with a 90s theme.
Quite honestly I can't think of a more abhorrent decade as far as fashion trends go - skirts over trousers, bumbags, rave, the ubiquitous scrunchie, the trend for wearing all-over-denim ushered in by B*Witched and the popularity of shellsuits. Britney "Hit Me Baby One More Time" Spears is currently a bloated, fag-toting mess, lightly powdered with a mixture of Cheeto dust and class As and weighing in, the cover of Heat magazine proclaims, at (gasp!)"over ten stone" - to me, this fall from grace is emblematic of what should have happened to the decade itself, but then what do I know? Try telling that, for instance, to Christopher Kane.
Yes, Christopher Kane, the current darling of the British fashion industry and the man single-handedly responsible for suggestion that women mummify themselves in body-hugging neon bandages. Also responsible, in part, for the fact that Topshop - who carried his concession line a few months ago - now have a collection called "Pop", offering is fluro hotpants, white denim and t-shirts screaming "SAVE THE RAVE!". Incidentally I can't be the only one who noticed that when the sickeningly talented Gareth Pugh was the enfant terrible of London Fashion Week for all of twenty minutes we weren't subjected to an "S&M RULES OK" collage on Topshop.com full of leather, vinyl and, um, balloons (and more's the pity, because I would have bought five of everything). I can't also be alone in realising that your average women, when wrapped in a flourescent tourniquet which barely covers her arse, looks not unlike The Mummy Returns as re-envisaged by Flava Flav. I am willing to admit that last year I did visit Dover Street Market and buy a House Of Holland t-shirt - yes, before they appeared in Elle and that - if only to point out that I bought "UHU GARETH PUGH" rather than the bile-green "CUM AGAIN, CHRISTOPHER KANE" because yes, I was genuinely interested in giving a shoutout to "Gazza" and his balloon animal chic.
"A SARCASTIC THANKYOU FOR BRINGING NINETIES RAVE FASHION BACK INTO VOGUE AGAIN, CHRISTOPHER KANE."
Images: Neon arse from Christopher Kane; Pierrot nightmares from Gareth Pugh; The nudey photograph by Toyin has absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand, but I thought we all needed to calm down. An exercise: imagine coming home to find this lanky streak of perfection crawling around in your sheets. Any anxieties about bumbags becoming en Vogue should melt away.