Builder's Bum

In only a very circuitous way is this blog about builders and their derrieres, or ‘seats’ as my dear mama used to call them. It is more to do with current fashions for males and females.

We have all seen our young men walking down the street with their trousers falling off their hips, exposing parts of their nether anatomy that is best kept hidden, even in the most beautiful of bodies. Example, David Beckham or any of the James Bonds are all very gorgeous but it is not in anyone’s interests to have to peek at part of their cheeks. Thinking about it, David Beckham posing in underwear thankfully, did not expose what might be called footballer’s bum. He may have in the past, I do not know, as I do not follow said sport, but I hope not.

What is currently exercising my interest is the ladies fashions and in particular, what is the now long-standing penchant for wearing maternity clothes. That is what they would have been called back in the latter part of the 20th Century. Our department stores and ladieswear shops are full of tops in all fabrics and hues that look, to me, identical to what ladies back in my day, wore to disguise their developing babies. And now women, young and old can’t get enough of the things. Conversely, pregnant women in the 21st century appear to  delight in exhibiting  their expanding bodies, covered only by extremely well-fitting T-shirts or contoured sweaters, proudly announcing to the watching world, the imminent arrival of little Johnny or Mary.

So, what to make of all this? I don’t know dear reader. As you may know and possibly lament, I am no fashionista. I have described in previous blogs how my glamorous sibling has to drag me, kicking and screaming, around the department stores to update my wardrobe, as I seem to be constitutionally unable to perform this task for myself. When she deems my state of dress beyond what is considered by her acceptable, my sister announces a shopping trip. (See blog ‘How To Make A Yorkshireman Cry’), only in my case it is not the opening of the wallet that is distressing, it is all that dressing and undressing in changing rooms.

So having ‘fessed up to no fashion credentials whatsoever, why am I rabbiting on about fashions? Because I think it’s time we all moved on and got a bit more creative and stylish in our clothes. Yes, even me. Can’t we banish the ugly leggings and tunics to their proper place in history, the short dresses that aren’t dresses at all and that ‘layered’ look that looks like people arose in haste that morning and got dressed in the dark in the first garments that came to hand?

Call me an old dinosaur, but I bet there’s many a young person out there who longs for the return of some glamour and stylish dressing coming home to roost soon.

My sister is at the door, my miserable fate awaits. How not to spend a Saturday. I am tempted to exit stage left and leg it through  the patio doors and claim sanctuary in the church. That’s it! What’s not to like about a cassock?